وَلَقَدْAnd indeed كَتَبْتُI wrote إِلَيْكَto you لَمَّاwhen جَدَّgrew intense بيwithin me
وَلَقَدْ كَتَبْتُ إِلَيْكَ لَمَّا جَدَّ بي
وَجْدِيmy passion عَلَيْكَfor you وَزَادَتِand increased الأَشْوَاقُthe longings
وَجْدِي عَلَيْكَ وَزَادَتِ الأَشْوَاقُ
Indeed, I wrote to you when I was overwhelmed
Indeed I wrote to you when my passion grew intense,
By my passion for you, and longings increased.
And my longing for you increased, and yearning grew,
وَشكَوْتُand I complained ماwhat أَلقاهُI endure it مِنْof أَلمِpain الجَوَىlovesickness
وَشكَوْتُ ما أَلقاهُ مِنْ أَلمِ الجَوَى
فَبَكىso wept اليَراعُthe reed pen وَرَقَّتِand grew tender الأَوْرَاقُthe pages
فَبَكى اليَراعُ وَرَقَّتِ الأَوْرَاقُ
And I complained of the pain of lovesickness I endure;
I complained of the torment of love and its pain,
So the reed pen wept, and the pages grew tender.
The meadows wept, and the leaves turned yellow and fell.
Sol 6.1