ما زالَ سُقمُكَ أَن أَغرى بِيَ السَّقَمَا

ما زالَ سُقمُكَ أَن أَغرى بِيَ السَّقَمَا

وَقَد شُفِيَت وَقَد رُمتُ الشِفاءَ فَما

وَقَد شُفِيَت وَقَد رُمتُ الشِفاءَ فَما

Your illness never ceased to incite illness against me;

Your sickness still allures me into sickness,

And you were healed; I sought healing, but was not healed.

Though you've recovered, and I sought recovery to no avail.

وَزِدتَ شُهرَةَ حُسنٍ غَيرَ خافِيَةٍ

وَزِدتَ شُهرَةَ حُسنٍ غَيرَ خافِيَةٍ

فَكانَ سُقمُكَ ناراً قَد عَلا عَلَما

فَكانَ سُقمُكَ ناراً قَد عَلا عَلَما

And you increased your beauty’s already manifest renown;

You've increased the fame of a beauty not hidden,

So your illness was a fire that had risen atop a mountain.

So your sickness was a fire whose flame rose high.

تُغيرُني فيكَ حُمّى الوِردَ إِذ وَرَدَت

تُغيرُني فيكَ حُمّى الوِردَ إِذ وَرَدَت

فَما تُقَبِّلُهُ عَذبَ اللَمى شَبِما

فَما تُقَبِّلُهُ عَذبَ اللَمى شَبِما

The daily fever makes me jealous over you when she visits

The fever of roses changes me in you when it comes,

A mouth she kisses—sweet, dusky-lipped, and cool.

For its sweet union does not kiss it insipidly.

أَقسَمتُ بِالثَغرِ مِنهُ إِنَّهُ قَسَمٌ

أَقسَمتُ بِالثَغرِ مِنهُ إِنَّهُ قَسَمٌ

أَكرِم بِهِ عِندَ أَبناءِ الهَوى قَسَما

أَكرِم بِهِ عِندَ أَبناءِ الهَوى قَسَما

I swore by his mouth—truly, this is an oath:

I swear by his mouth that it is an oath

How noble an oath it is among the children of love!

With which I honor myself among love's children an oath.

ما قَبَّلَت فاهُ إِلّا وَهيَ عاشِقَةٌ

ما قَبَّلَت فاهُ إِلّا وَهيَ عاشِقَةٌ

وَلا سَرَت ضَرَماً إِلّا لِسِرِّ ظَما

وَلا سَرَت ضَرَماً إِلّا لِسِرِّ ظَما

She kissed his mouth only as a lover,

No mouth has kissed save that it was a lover's,

Nor coursed as flame save for a secret thirst.

No cheek has walked save to a profound, concealed passion.

يا رَوضَةَ الحُسنِ لا أَصبَحتِ ذاوِيَةً

يا رَوضَةَ الحُسنِ لا أَصبَحتِ ذاوِيَةً

وَلا أَغَبَّكِ سُقيا أَدمُعي ديما

وَلا أَغَبَّكِ سُقيا أَدمُعي ديما

O garden of beauty, may you never become withered;

O garden of beauty, may you not wake up miserable,

And may my tears water you in steady rain, never missing a day.

Nor may your waterer's tears absent you long.

وَلا تَحَرَّشَتِ الدُنيا بِصِحَّتِهِ

وَلا تَحَرَّشَتِ الدُنيا بِصِحَّتِهِ

وَلا اِستَباحَت لَهُ الحُمّى مَصونَ حِمى

وَلا اِستَباحَت لَهُ الحُمّى مَصونَ حِمى

And may the world never assail his health,

The world was not rattled by his health,

Nor may fever violate his guarded sanctuary.

Nor did fevers freely take what his protection preserved modestly.