بَينَ لَوى الجَزعِ وَوادي العَقيقِ

بَينَ لَوى الجَزعِ وَوادي العَقيقِ

مَن لا إِلى السَلوانِ عَنهُ طَريق

مَن لا إِلى السَلوانِ عَنهُ طَريق

Between Liwa al-Jazʿ and Wadi al-ʿAqiq

Between the valleys of anguish and Aqeeq,

lives one whom there is no way to forget.

There is no path leading to Salwa for me.

جانٍ جَنى النَحلَةَ مِن ريقِهِ

جانٍ جَنى النَحلَةَ مِن ريقِهِ

حُلوُ التَثَنّي وَالثَنايا رَشيق

حُلوُ التَثَنّي وَالثَنايا رَشيق

A wrongdoer—the bee’s honey comes from his saliva—

My soul picked the nectar from its flowers,

sweet in his swaying and his front teeth, graceful.

Sweetly bent and delicate branches.

وَيلاهُ مِن بَردِ رُضابٍ لَهُ

وَيلاهُ مِن بَردِ رُضابٍ لَهُ

أَشكوا إِلى العُذّالِ مِنهُ الحَريق

أَشكوا إِلى العُذّالِ مِنهُ الحَريق

Alas for the coolness of his sweet saliva!

Woe to me from its coldness that burns me!

I complain to the reproachers of the burning it brings.

I complain to the Punisher about its blaze.

لَو لَم تَكُن وَجنَتُهُ جَنَّةٌ

لَو لَم تَكُن وَجنَتُهُ جَنَّةٌ

ما أَنبَتَت ذاكَ العِذار الأَنيق

ما أَنبَتَت ذاكَ العِذار الأَنيق

Had his cheek not been a garden,

If its cheek were not a heavenly garden,

it would not have sprouted that elegant down on his cheek.

It would not have grown those elegant apples.

وَاِعجَبا يَفعَلُ بي في الهَوى

وَاِعجَبا يَفعَلُ بي في الهَوى

ما تَفعَلُ الأَعداءُ وَهوَ الصَديق

ما تَفعَلُ الأَعداءُ وَهوَ الصَديق

And how strange! In love he does to me

And I wonder what it does to me in love -

what enemies do, though he is my friend.

What enemies do, and it is the friend!

روحي فِدا الظَبيِ الَّذي قَدُّهُ

روحي فِدا الظَبيِ الَّذي قَدُّهُ

يَفعَلُ فِعلَ السَمهَرِيِّ الدَقيق

يَفعَلُ فِعلَ السَمهَرِيِّ الدَقيق

My soul is ransom for the gazelle whose figure

My soul is ransom for the gazelle whose stature

does the work of a slender Samhari spear.

Does what the slender Samharite does.