سَقَىmay water اللهُGod أيَّامَthe days of الصَّبَابَةِyearning وَالهَوَىand love
سَقَى اللهُ أيَّامَ الصَّبَابَةِ وَالهَوَى
وَعًصرَand the age of الشّبابِyouth الغَضِّtender أكرِمhow noble بِهِit is عَصرَاas an age
وَعًصرَ الشّبابِ الغَضِّ أكرِم بِهِ عَصرَا
May God water the days of yearning and love,
God watered the days of my youth and passion,
And the age of tender youth—how noble an age!—
And the prime of my blossoming green age; may He bless a time!
سَحَاباًclouds يدِرّpours forth المَاءَwater فيin مَحلِthe drought of رَوضِهَاtheir garden
سَحَاباً يدِرّ المَاءَ في مَحلِ رَوضِهَا
وَيُنبِتُand brings forth فِيupon أَغصَانِهَاtheir branches الوَرَقَleaves الخُضرَاgreen
وَيُنبِتُ فِي أَغصَانِهَا الوَرَقَ الخُضرَا
With clouds pouring water upon their drought-stricken garden,
A cloud that pours water in the place of its meadow,
And bringing forth green leaves upon their branches.
And makes its branches grow green leaves.
وَجَادَand may drench أَصِيلاًa late afternoon بالقصيبَةat al-Qusaybah لَمnot يُضَفwas added
وَجَادَ أَصِيلاً بالقصيبَة لَم يُضَف
إِلَىto حُسنِهِits beauty عَيبٌa flaw سِوَىexcept أنَّهُthat it مَرّاpassed
إِلَى حُسنِهِ عَيبٌ سِوَى أنَّهُ مَرّا
And may He drench a late afternoon at al-Qusaybah, unmarred
It yielded copiously, that beauty without blemish added
In its beauty by any flaw save that it passed.
Except that it was bitter.
إِذِwhen الشَّمسُthe sun تَحكِينِيmirrors me وَتَحكِيand mirrors مُعَذِّبيmy tormentor
إِذِ الشَّمسُ تَحكِينِي وَتَحكِي مُعَذِّبي
بِماthrough what احمَرَّturned red مِنهَاof it لِلغُرُوبِtoward sunset وَمَاand what اصفَرّاturned yellow
بِما احمَرَّ مِنهَا لِلغُرُوبِ وَمَا اصفَرّا
When the sun mirrored me and mirrored my tormentor
When the sun reproaches me and reproaches my tormentor
In its redness at sunset and its yellow hue.
With what turned red from it at sunset and what turned yellow.
وراحَةُand the palm of مَنthe one whom أهوَىI love وبَارِقُand the lightning of ثَغرِهِhis mouth
وراحَةُ مَن أهوَى وبَارِقُ ثَغرِهِ
وَلَحظَتُهُand his glance الوَطفَاءُlong-lashed تَمزِجmixes لِيfor me خَمرَاwine
وَلَحظَتُهُ الوَطفَاءُ تَمزِج لِي خَمرَا
And the palm of the one I love, and the lightning of his mouth,
The solace of the one I love, the gleam of his smile,
And his long-lashed glance mix wine for me.
And his dewy glance blends intoxicating wine for me.
فَقَامَتso arose بِهِwith it حَولِيaround me سقاةٌcupbearers كَثِيرَةٌmany
فَقَامَت بِهِ حَولِي سقاةٌ كَثِيرَةٌ
مُنَىthe wishes of كُلِّeach ساقٍcupbearer أنthat أمِيدَI reel لَهُfor him سُكرَاin drunkenness
مُنَى كُلِّ ساقٍ أن أمِيدَ لَهُ سُكرَا
So many cupbearers rose around me with it,
Many cupbearers arose around me,
Each cupbearer's wish: that I reel for him, drunk.
The wish of every pourer to extend intoxication to me.
فَلَمso did not أدرِI know مِمَّاfrom what كنتI was أُسقَىbeing given drink هَلwhether الهَوَىlove
فَلَم أدرِ مِمَّا كنت أُسقَى هَل الهَوَى
شَرِبتُI drank أمِor الصَّهبَاءَtawny wine صِرفاًundiluted أمِor السِّحرَاmagic
شَرِبتُ أمِ الصَّهبَاءَ صِرفاً أمِ السِّحرَا
So I did not know what I was being given to drink: was it love
I know not whether from that which I was given to drink, was it passion
I drank, or undiluted tawny wine, or magic?
That I drank or was it pure magic or sorcery.
سلامٌpeace عَلَىupon ذَاكَthat الأَصِيلِlate afternoon وَطِيبِهِand its sweetness
سلامٌ عَلَى ذَاكَ الأَصِيلِ وَطِيبِهِ
يُرَدَّدُis repeated مَاwhenever مَرَّpasses الأصِيلُlate afternoon وَمَاand never مَرَّاgrew bitter
يُرَدَّدُ مَا مَرَّ الأصِيلُ وَمَا مَرَّا
Peace upon that late afternoon and its sweetness,
Greetings to that beauty and its goodness,
Repeated whenever late afternoon passes—and it never grew bitter.
Repeated is the beauty and what was repeated.
Sol 6.1