ماwhat بالُthe matter رَأسِكَyour head لاnot تَبَشُّrejoices بِلَونِهِin its color
ما بالُ رَأسِكَ لا تَبَشُّ بِلَونِهِ
عَينٌan eye وَباتَand it has become بِكُلِّat every ذيone possessing نَظَرٍsight يَبَشit smiles
عَينٌ وَباتَ بِكُلِّ ذي نَظَرٍ يَبَش
What ails your head, that its color delights no
Why does your head refuse to gray?
eye, though it has come to smile at every beholder?
An eye that with every beholder delights.
يُمسيis at evening كَبَعضِlike one of الرَومِthe Romans أَبيَضَwhite بارِداًcold
يُمسي كَبَعضِ الرَومِ أَبيَضَ بارِداً
وَلَقَدand indeed يَكونُit may be كَأَنَّهُas though it were بَعضُone of الحَبَشthe Abyssinians
وَلَقَد يَكونُ كَأَنَّهُ بَعضُ الحَبَش
At evening it is white and cold, like one of the Romans,
It darkens like some Greek men, cold white,
And indeed it may seem as though it were one of the Abyssinians.
And yet somehow appears Habashi black.
Sol 6.1