يا سَلمَ إِنَّ الرِزقَ جَمٌّ وَقوت

يا سَلمَ إِنَّ الرِزقَ جَمٌّ وَقوت

وَلَيسَ بَعدَ القَولِ إِلّا السُكوت

وَلَيسَ بَعدَ القَولِ إِلّا السُكوت

O Salm, provision is abundance and sustenance.

O Salma, sustenance is plentiful but silence is best after speech

And after speech there is nothing but silence.

O Salma, my soul is preoccupied with you

يا سَلمَ نَفسي بِكِ مَشغولَةٌ

يا سَلمَ نَفسي بِكِ مَشغولَةٌ

شُغلَ وِدادٍ دامَ لي ما حَيِيت

شُغلَ وِدادٍ دامَ لي ما حَيِيت

O Salm, my soul is preoccupied with you,

Preoccupied with love that will last as long as I live

With love's preoccupation, enduring for me as long as I live.

I do not desire comfort, I am a man

لا أَشتَهي السَلوَةَ إِنّي اِمرُؤٌ

لا أَشتَهي السَلوَةَ إِنّي اِمرُؤٌ

زَيَّنتُ نَفسي بِهَوى مَن هَويت

زَيَّنتُ نَفسي بِهَوى مَن هَويت

I do not desire release from love; I am a man.

Who adorns himself with the love of the one I love

I have adorned my soul with passion for the one I loved.

I have endured the hardship of love for you

لاقَيتُ مِن حُبِّكِ جَهدَ الهَوى

لاقَيتُ مِن حُبِّكِ جَهدَ الهَوى

لِلَّهِ دَرّي في الهَوى ما لَقيت

لِلَّهِ دَرّي في الهَوى ما لَقيت

Through loving you I have suffered passion's torment.

For God's sake, how much hardship I have endured in love

God bless me—what I have endured in passion!

You buried me alive though I am guiltless

دَفَنتِني حَيّاً وَلا ذَنبَ لي

دَفَنتِني حَيّاً وَلا ذَنبَ لي

وَالحَيُّ لا يُدفَنُ حَتّى يَموت

وَالحَيُّ لا يُدفَنُ حَتّى يَموت

You buried me alive, though I am guiltless,

The living are not buried until they die

And the living are not buried until they die.

So judge as you wish upon a lover

فَاِقضي بِما شِئتِ عَلى عاشِقٍ

فَاِقضي بِما شِئتِ عَلى عاشِقٍ

قَلبي مُقِرٌّ وَلِساني صَموت

قَلبي مُقِرٌّ وَلِساني صَموت

So pass whatever judgment you wish upon a lover;

Whose heart confesses while his tongue is silent

My heart confesses, and my tongue is silent.

Rather, O critic of his love

بَل أَيُّها العاذِلُ في حُبِّها

بَل أَيُّها العاذِلُ في حُبِّها

يَجري وَلا يَدري كَذاكَ المُقيت

يَجري وَلا يَدري كَذاكَ المُقيت

But, O you who reproach me for loving her,

Who flows unknowingly, thus dies the lover

He runs on without knowing—such is the watcher.

You did not know my love and tortured me

لَم تَدرِ ما حُبّي وَعَذَّبتَني

لَم تَدرِ ما حُبّي وَعَذَّبتَني

وَالشَوقُ قَد كادَ بِروحي يَفوت

وَالشَوقُ قَد كادَ بِروحي يَفوت

You did not know what my love was, yet you tormented me,

While longing has nearly taken my soul away

And longing has almost carried my soul away.

In her slender figure is a wild doe

في مِجسَدَيها ظَبيُ بَرِّيَّةٍ

في مِجسَدَيها ظَبيُ بَرِّيَّةٍ

قَلبي عَلَيها هالِكٌ مُستَميت

قَلبي عَلَيها هالِكٌ مُستَميت

Within her two undergarments is a gazelle of the wilderness;

For which my heart is dying and destroying itself

My heart is perishing for her, ready to die.

I wake thirsty for her face

أَصبَحتُ ظَمآنَ إِلى وَجهِها

أَصبَحتُ ظَمآنَ إِلى وَجهِها

شَوقاً وَلو أُسقى بِفيها رَويت

شَوقاً وَلو أُسقى بِفيها رَويت

I have grown thirsty for her face,

Longing, and if I was given her mouth to drink from, I'd be sated

Out of longing; if I were given drink from her mouth, my thirst would be quenched.