هَل شَرِبَ البانُ شَمولاً فَمال

هَل شَرِبَ البانُ شَمولاً فَمال

أَم هَزَّهُ مُرُّ نَسيمِ الشَمال

أَم هَزَّهُ مُرُّ نَسيمِ الشَمال

Did the bān tree drink wine and sway,

Has the coffee tasted bitterness, so it inclined?

or did the biting north breeze shake it?

Or did the blow of the north wind shake it?

هَزَّ قُدودَ الغَيدِ إِذ جاذَبَت

هَزَّ قُدودَ الغَيدِ إِذ جاذَبَت

أَعطافَها أَردافُهُنَّ الثِقال

أَعطافَها أَردافُهُنَّ الثِقال

It swayed the figures of graceful maidens, as

It shook the slender waists as their heavy hips

their heavy hips tugged at their waists,

Pulled their sides in a garden that exhales its breaths

في رَوضَةٍ تُرخِصُ أَنفاسُها

في رَوضَةٍ تُرخِصُ أَنفاسُها

نافِحَةً سِعرَ الغَوالي الغَوال

نافِحَةً سِعرَ الغَوالي الغَوال

in a garden whose breaths lower,

Competing with the passion of passionate lovers.

as they waft, the price of costly perfumes.

The narcissus is still greener than its carpet and shade.

وَالنَّرجِسُ الغَضُّ عَلى السُندس ال

وَالنَّرجِسُ الغَضُّ عَلى السُندس ال

أَخضَرِ مِنهُ بُسطُهُ وَالزِلال

أَخضَرِ مِنهُ بُسطُهُ وَالزِلال

And the fresh narcissus upon silken brocade—

Its stems are like green wax and the light in it

green—from which come its carpets and clear waters—

Is its light and glow.

كَالشَمعِ الأَخضَرِ قُضبانُهُ

كَالشَمعِ الأَخضَرِ قُضبانُهُ

وَالنّورُ فيهِ نورُهُ وَالذُبال

وَالنّورُ فيهِ نورُهُ وَالذُبال

has stalks like green wax,

And the shyness of the rose and its branches

and blossoms that are its light and wicks.

From my two deadly, flirting cheeks.

وا خَجلَةَ الوَردِ وَأَغصانِهِ

وا خَجلَةَ الوَردِ وَأَغصانِهِ

مِن وَجنَتَي قاتِلَتي بِالدَلال

مِن وَجنَتَي قاتِلَتي بِالدَلال

Oh, the shame of the rose and its branches

A thrill that scatters from its shade

before the cheeks of her who slays me with coquetry!

And its flirty eyelash calls for descent.

غَريرَةٌ تَفرقُ مِن ظِلِّها

غَريرَةٌ تَفرقُ مِن ظِلِّها

وَطَرفُها المدنَفُ يَدعو نَزال

وَطَرفُها المدنَفُ يَدعو نَزال

An innocent girl, afraid of her own shadow,

When it hummed baring its neck,

yet her languid glance calls for combat.

The lion hunts the gazelle.

مَتى رَنَت مُتلِعَةً جيدَها

مَتى رَنَت مُتلِعَةً جيدَها

وَالتَفَتَت فَاللَيثُ صَيدُ الغَزال

وَالتَفَتَت فَاللَيثُ صَيدُ الغَزال

Whenever she gazes with her neck held high,

It only smiled and complained

and turns, the lion is the gazelle's prey.

Of the jealousy of its white teeth.

ما اِبتَسَمَت إِلّا اِنثَنَت تَشتَكي

ما اِبتَسَمَت إِلّا اِنثَنَت تَشتَكي

مِن ثَغرِها الغَيرَةَ بيض اللآل

مِن ثَغرِها الغَيرَةَ بيض اللآل

She never smiles but they turn to complain—

We have never seen a woman before it

the white pearls, envious of her mouth.

With a glance that captivates men's hearts.

وَما رَأَينا اِمرَأَةً قَبلَها

وَما رَأَينا اِمرَأَةً قَبلَها

بِلَحظِها تَسبي قُلوبَ الرِجال

بِلَحظِها تَسبي قُلوبَ الرِجال

And never before her have we seen a woman

It forbids connection but sees

whose glance takes men's hearts captive.

Spilling the blood of lovers as lawful.

تُحَرِّمُ الوَصلَ وَلَكِن تَرى

تُحَرِّمُ الوَصلَ وَلَكِن تَرى

سَفكَ دَمِ العُشّاقِ عَمداً حَلال

سَفكَ دَمِ العُشّاقِ عَمداً حَلال

She deems union forbidden, and yet considers

Its image, O Lord, is sedition for us

the deliberate spilling of lovers' blood lawful.

So Glory be to You, O Lord of Majesty.

صورَتُها يا رَبَّنا فِتنَةٌ

صورَتُها يا رَبَّنا فِتنَةٌ

لَنا فَسُبحانَكَ يا ذا الجَلال

لَنا فَسُبحانَكَ يا ذا الجَلال

Her form, O our Lord, is a temptation

Like the full moon its face appears

for us; glory be to You, O Possessor of Majesty!

Beautifully, may God protect it from imperfection.

كَالبَدرِ يَبدو كامِلاً وَجهُها

كَالبَدرِ يَبدو كامِلاً وَجهُها

حُسناً وَقاهُ اللَهُ عَينَ الكَمال

حُسناً وَقاهُ اللَهُ عَينَ الكَمال

Like the full moon, her face appears complete

And I have a passion for it that could not

in beauty; may God shield it from perfection's evil eye.

Be quenched by drinking pure water.

وَبي إِلَيها غُلَّةٌ لَم يَكُن

وَبي إِلَيها غُلَّةٌ لَم يَكُن

يَنقَعُها شُربِيَ ماءً زُلال

يَنقَعُها شُربِيَ ماءً زُلال

And in me burns a thirst for her that was not

The nights of connection have passed joyfully through it

quenched by my drinking crystal-clear water.

So oh my craving for its nights!

وَلَّت لَيالي الوَصلِ محمودَةً

وَلَّت لَيالي الوَصلِ محمودَةً

بِها فَيا لَهفي لَها مِن لَيال

بِها فَيا لَهفي لَها مِن لَيال

The nights of union passed, cherished

It is as if, in my view, far away

because of her—oh, how I yearn for those nights!

With ripe branches in bonding.

كَأَنَّها عِندي بَعيدُ المُنى

كَأَنَّها عِندي بَعيدُ المُنى

يانِعَةً أَغصانُها بِالوِصال

يانِعَةً أَغصانُها بِالوِصال

As though, to me, they were far-off wishes,

So they passed, and who can I see after it?

their branches ripe with union.

Where did today's phantom of imagination extend?

وَلَّت فَمَن لي بَعدها أَن أَرى

وَلَّت فَمَن لي بَعدها أَن أَرى

أَينَ أَمَدَّ اليَومَ طَيفُ الخَيال

أَينَ أَمَدَّ اليَومَ طَيفُ الخَيال

They are gone—who will help me, after them, to see

how far the phantom of fancy has reached today?