ليI have حَبيبٌa beloved ناظِرٌgazing عَنthrough لَحظِthe glance of خِشفِa fawn
لي حَبيبٌ ناظِرٌ عَن لَحظِ خِشفِ
قُبلَةٌa kiss مِنهُfrom him مِنَfrom الأَسقامِillnesses تَشفيheals
قُبلَةٌ مِنهُ مِنَ الأَسقامِ تَشفي
I have a beloved who gazes with a fawn's glance;
I have a lover with a glance that heals
A kiss from him heals illnesses.
A kiss from him cures all my ails
بِتُّI spent the night أَستَحليI savor مَجانيthe harvest of رَشفِهِhis kisses
بِتُّ أَستَحلي مَجاني رَشفِهِ
وَهوَand he يَستَحليhe savors كَماjust as اِستَحلَيتُI savored رَشفيmy kisses
وَهوَ يَستَحلي كَما اِستَحلَيتُ رَشفي
I spent the night savoring the harvest of his kisses,
I yearn for his sweet kiss
And he savored mine, just as I had savored his.
As he yearns for my kiss the same
أَرُضابٌis it nectar? ريقُهُhis saliva أَمor ضَربٌwhite honey
أَرُضابٌ ريقُهُ أَم ضَربٌ
مِنfrom عَصيرِthe juice of الكَرمِthe vine مَمزوجاًblended بِصِرفِwith pure wine
مِن عَصيرِ الكَرمِ مَمزوجاً بِصِرفِ
Is his saliva nectar, or white honey
Is it wine mixed with grape juice?
From the vine's juice, blended with pure wine?
Or a punch that makes me swoon?
هَزَّhe swayed غُصنَthe bough of البانِthe bān tree فيin حِقفِa curving ridge of نَقاًa sand dune
هَزَّ غُصنَ البانِ في حِقفِ نَقاً
وَبَلائيand my torment غُصنُa bough of بانٍa bān tree فَوقabove حِقفِa curved dune
وَبَلائي غُصنُ بانٍ فَوق حِقفِ
He swayed a bān bough amid a curving sand dune,
He shook the bough of acacia in jest
And my torment is a bān bough above a dune.
While my affliction is an acacia bough swaying above in mirth
قَمَرٌa moon صورَتُهُhis form كاسِفَةٌeclipsing
قَمَرٌ صورَتُهُ كاسِفَةٌ
كَلَّevery بَدرٍfull moon كامِلٍperfect لَيلَةَon the night of نِصفِmidmonth
كَلَّ بَدرٍ كامِلٍ لَيلَةَ نِصفِ
A moon whose form eclipses
His image is like a waning moon
Every perfect full moon on the month's middle night.
Like a full moon on the night it halves
لَحظُهُhis gaze السَكرانُdrunken فيin عَربَدَةٍriotous revelry
لَحظُهُ السَكرانُ في عَربَدَةٍ
لَمhas not يَزَلceased فيin تيهِهِits haughty pride ثانِيَturning عِطفِa side
لَم يَزَل في تيهِهِ ثانِيَ عِطفِ
His drunken gaze runs riot,
His drunken eyes in reverie
Still turning aside in its haughty pride.
Lost in the haze of his charm
آلَمتهُhurt him عَضَّتيmy bite فيon خَدِّهِhis cheek
آلَمتهُ عَضَّتي في خَدِّهِ
أَلَماًpain كِدتُI nearly لَهُbecause of it آكُلُI devour كَفّيmy palm
أَلَماً كِدتُ لَهُ آكُلُ كَفّي
My bite on his cheek hurt him—
My bite pained his cheek
So much that I nearly devoured my own palm over it.
An agony that made me nearly bite my palm
وَقَفَrested الحُسنُbeauty عَلَيهِupon him فَغَداand so became
وَقَفَ الحُسنُ عَلَيهِ فَغَدا
جامِعُmosque of الحُسنِbeauty لَهُfor him أَحسَنَthe fairest وَقفِendowment
جامِعُ الحُسنِ لَهُ أَحسَنَ وَقفِ
Beauty rested upon him, making
Beauty stood still before him
Beauty's mosque his fairest endowment.
As the epitome of beauty in its finest stance
Sol 6.1