فيin حُبِّكَlove of you صِرتُI have become كَالخِلالِlike a toothpick
في حُبِّكَ صِرتُ كَالخِلالِ
وَالصَّبرُand patience فَلَيسَso it is not مِنamong خِلاليmy traits
وَالصَّبرُ فَلَيسَ مِن خِلالي
In loving you, I have become like a toothpick,
And patience is not among my traits.
واصِلgrant union to مَنone who حازَhas gathered كُلَّevery حُزنٍsorrow
واصِل مَن حازَ كُلَّ حُزنٍ
ياO حائِزَpossessor of غايَةthe utmost degree of الجَمالِbeauty
يا حائِزَ غايَة الجَمالِ
Grant union to one who has gathered every sorrow,
O possessor of the utmost beauty.
فَالعاذِلُso the reproacher عادَhas become ليfor me عَذيراًone who excuses
فَالعاذِلُ عادَ لي عَذيراً
وَالقَلبُand the heart عَنِof السُّلُوِّforgetting love سالِforgetful
وَالقَلبُ عَنِ السُّلُوِّ سالِ
So my reproacher has come to excuse me,
And my heart has forgotten how to forget.
عَذِّبtorment بِسوىwith anything but الصُّدودِrejection قَلبيmy heart
عَذِّب بِسوى الصُّدودِ قَلبي
ياO مُنيَتَهُits desire فَماfor ... not يُباليit minds
يا مُنيَتَهُ فَما يُبالي
Torment my heart with anything but rejection,
O its desire, for it will not mind.
شُربوشُكُyour sharbush cap ياO صَبِيُّyouth مِنهُfrom it
شُربوشُكُ يا صَبِيُّ مِنهُ
تَنكيسُthe lowering of عَمائِمِthe turbans of الرِّجالِmen
تَنكيسُ عَمائِمِ الرِّجالِ
Your sharbush cap, O youth—from it comes
The lowering of men's turbans.
هَذاthis one الحاليadorned بِكُلِّwith every حُسنٍbeauty
هَذا الحالي بِكُلِّ حُسنٍ
ماhow أَعجَبَastonishing فيin هَواهُlove of him حاليmy state
ما أَعجَبَ في هَواهُ حالي
This one, adorned with every beauty—
How strange is my state in loving him!
غُصنٌa bough فيin الحِقفِthe curving sand dune تَحتَbeneath بَدرٍa full moon
غُصنٌ في الحِقفِ تَحتَ بَدرٍ
يَرنوhe gazes عَنthrough مُقلَتيthe two eyes of غَزالِa gazelle
يَرنو عَن مُقلَتي غَزالِ
A bough in the curving sand dune, beneath a full moon,
Gazing out through a gazelle's two eyes.
يَرميhe shoots عَنfrom قَوسِthe bow of حاجِبَيهِhis two eyebrows
يَرمي عَن قَوسِ حاجِبَيهِ
مِنfrom لَحظِthe sidelong glance of الطَّرفِthe eye بِالنِّبالِwith arrows
مِن لَحظِ الطَّرفِ بِالنِّبالِ
He shoots from the bow of his two brows
Arrows from his eye's sidelong glances.
أَبكيI weep كَلَفاًout of passion بِهِfor him عَقيقاًcarnelian
أَبكي كَلَفاً بِهِ عَقيقاً
إِذwhen يَبسِمُhe smiles ليat me عَنِrevealing اللآليthe pearls
إِذ يَبسِمُ لي عَنِ اللآلي
I weep carnelian in my passion for him,
When he smiles at me, revealing pearls.
لاnot مَتَّعmay he grant enjoyment to فيin هَواهُlove of him روحيmy soul
لا مَتَّع في هَواهُ روحي
ماas long as عِشتُI live بِراحَةِwith the comfort of الوِصالِunion
ما عِشتُ بِراحَةِ الوِصالِ
May my soul, in loving him, never be granted
The comfort of union as long as I live,
إِنif كُنتُI am عَلىfor الرُّقادِsleep أَبكيI weep
إِن كُنتُ عَلى الرُّقادِ أَبكي
إِلّاexcept شَوقاًout of longing إِلىfor الخَيالِthe dream-image
إِلّا شَوقاً إِلى الخَيالِ
If ever I weep for sleep
Except out of longing for his dream-image.
Sol 6.1