بَيضاءُ تَسحَبُ مِن قِيامٍ فَرعَها

بَيضاءُ تَسحَبُ مِن قِيامٍ فَرعَها

وَتَغيبُ فيهِ وَهوَ وَحفٌ أَسحَمُ

وَتَغيبُ فيهِ وَهوَ وَحفٌ أَسحَمُ

A fair-skinned woman trails her hair while standing,

White draws from a standing its branch

And vanishes within it, thick and jet-black.

And sinks into it, and it is a dark red pond

فَكَأَنَّها فيهِ نَهارٌ ساطِعٌ

فَكَأَنَّها فيهِ نَهارٌ ساطِعٌ

وَكَأَنَّهُ لَيلٌ عَلَيها مُظلِمُ

وَكَأَنَّهُ لَيلٌ عَلَيها مُظلِمُ

So within it she is like a radiant day,

It's as if in it a bright day

And it is like a dark night over her.

And as if it is a dark night over it