عوديreturn عَلَيَّto me وَلَوand even if كَلَمحِlike a flash of النَاظِريthe eye
عودي عَلَيَّ وَلَو كَلَمحِ النَاظِري
لِيَعودَso that it may return ليto me زَمَنُthe time of الشَبابِyouth الناضِرِflourishing
لِيَعودَ لي زَمَنُ الشَبابِ الناضِرِ
Return to me, if only for the flash of an eye,
Return to me, even if just for a glance
so that the days of flourishing youth may return to me.
So the time of blossoming youth may come back to me
فَأَلَذُّfor the sweetest عَيشٍlife ماthat which اِنقَضىpassed وَتَراجَعَتand turned back
فَأَلَذُّ عَيشٍ ما اِنقَضى وَتَراجَعَت
كَرَماًgenerously بِهِwith it أَيديthe hands of الزَمانِtime الغادِرِthe treacherous
كَرَماً بِهِ أَيدي الزَمانِ الغادِرِ
For the sweetest life is one gone by and brought back,
The sweetest life is what has passed and gone
graciously, by the hands of treacherous time.
As a generous gift of fickle time
كُلُّall اللَياليthe nights الماضِياتِbygone خَلاعَةٌwanton revelry
كُلُّ اللَيالي الماضِياتِ خَلاعَةٌ
تَفديransom نَعيمَكَyour bliss ياO لَياليnights of حاجِرِHajir
تَفدي نَعيمَكَ يا لَيالي حاجِرِ
All the bygone nights of revelry
All the bygone nights are naught
would ransom your bliss, O nights of Hajir.
Compared to your bliss, O intimate nights
ماhow كانَwas أَسرَعَswift ماthat اِنقَضَتthey passed فَكَأَنَّماso it was as though
ما كانَ أَسرَعَ ما اِنقَضَت فَكَأَنَّما
كانَتthey were مَناماًa dream فيin جَناحَيthe two wings of طائِرِa bird
كانَت مَناماً في جَناحَي طائِرِ
How swiftly they passed! It was as though
Nothing passed more quickly than they did
they were a dream on a bird's two wings.
As if they were but a dream on the wings of a bird
وَليتبعنَّand shall surely pursue القَلبَthe heart فيكَfor you مِنَof الأَسىsorrow
وَليتبعنَّ القَلبَ فيكَ مِنَ الأَسى
بِأَوائِلٍwith beginnings مَوصولَةٍjoined بِأَواخِرِto endings
بِأَوائِلٍ مَوصولَةٍ بِأَواخِرِ
And sorrow for you shall surely pursue the heart,
And may my heart pursue in you sorrows
with beginnings joined to endings.
Linked, beginnings to ends
وَأَحِنُّand I yearn حَنَّةَthe yearning cry of ذاكِرٍone who remembers مُتَجاوِزٍsurpassing
وَأَحِنُّ حَنَّةَ ذاكِرٍ مُتَجاوِزٍ
لِرَسيسِbecause of the deep-rooted trace of لَوعَتِهِhis burning anguish حَنينَthe longing of الذاكِرِone who remembers
لِرَسيسِ لَوعَتِهِ حَنينَ الذاكِرِ
And I yearn with a rememberer's cry, surpassing,
And I yearn with the yearning of one remembering
through his deep-rooted anguish, a rememberer's longing.
Beyond the murmur of his grief, the yearning of the rememberer
كانَwas الصِباyouth زَماناًa time أَرَقَّmore tender مِنَthan الصِباthe east wind
كانَ الصِبا زَماناً أَرَقَّ مِنَ الصِبا
وَأَلَذَّand sweeter مِنthan غَفَواتِthe brief dozes of عَينِthe eye of الساهِرِthe wakeful one
وَأَلَذَّ مِن غَفَواتِ عَينِ الساهِرِ
Youth was a time more tender than the east wind,
My youth was a time gentler than youth
and sweeter than the brief dozes of a sleepless eye.
And sweeter than the slumber of a wakeful eye
وَلّىdeparted وَماand not بَرَحَتleft نَضارَةَthe freshness of عودِهِits bough
وَلّى وَما بَرَحَت نَضارَةَ عودِهِ
وَجَمالُand the splendor of تاجِthe crown of جَمالِهِits beauty فيin ناظِريmy sight
وَجَمالُ تاجِ جَمالِهِ في ناظِري
It has gone, yet the freshness of its bough remains,
It passed, yet the blossoming of its return
and the splendor of its beauty's crown is before my eyes.
And the beauty of its beautiful crown did not fade from my sight
أَشكوI lament الفِراقَseparation وَإِنهاand indeed it is لشِكايَةsurely a lament
أَشكو الفِراقَ وَإِنها لشِكايَة
كَالنارِlike fire فيin الأَحشاءِthe entrails ذاتَpossessing شَرائِرِsparks
كَالنارِ في الأَحشاءِ ذاتَ شَرائِرِ
I lament separation; indeed, this is a lament
I complain of separation, though it is a complaint
like fire within the entrails, filled with sparks.
Like fire in the entrails, having sparks
آهاًah! عَلىfor نَجدٍNajd وَأَيّامٍand days بِهاin it
آهاً عَلى نَجدٍ وَأَيّامٍ بِها
أَيّامَthe days of أَفراحيmy joys وَعَصرَand the age of بَشائِريmy glad tidings
أَيّامَ أَفراحي وَعَصرَ بَشائِري
Ah, for Najd and the days spent there,
Alas for Najd and the days in it
the days of my joys and the age of my glad tidings!
Days of my joy and the time of good tidings
ماnot كُنتُI was أَقنَعُcontent myself بِالتَواصُلِwith companionship مِنهُمfrom them
ما كُنتُ أَقنَعُ بِالتَواصُلِ مِنهُم
وَاليَومَand today أَقنَعI am content بِالخَيالِwith the phantom الزَائِرِthat visits
وَاليَومَ أَقنَع بِالخَيالِ الزَائِرِ
I used not to be content with their companionship;
I was not content with keeping in touch with them
and today I am content with the visiting phantom.
And today I am content with the occasional phantom
وَأَغَنَّand a sweetly nasal-voiced one أَسغَفَunclear; perhaps 'most enamored' ماas much as يَكونُcan be بِحُبِّهِwith love for him
وَأَغَنَّ أَسغَفَ ما يَكونُ بِحُبِّهِ
يَوماًone day إِذاwhen خَطَرَcrossed السُلُوُّforgetting بِخاطِريthrough my mind
يَوماً إِذا خَطَرَ السُلُوُّ بِخاطِري
And a soft-voiced beloved, whose love enthralls me most,
He who loves it is consoled by the least of its traces
on any day when forgetting crosses my mind.
When solace crosses my mind
أَدنىthe slightest صَبابَةِyearning of مُهجَتيmy heart فيهِfor him الَّذيthat which
أَدنى صَبابَةِ مُهجَتي فيهِ الَّذي
أَضحَتhas become حَديثa tale of عَجائِبَwonders وَنَوادِرِand rarities
أَضحَت حَديث عَجائِبَ وَنَوادِرِ
The slightest yearning of my heart for him is what
The dearest apple of my eye, in whom is that
has become a tale of wonders and rarities.
Which has become a tale of wonders and rarities
ماnot زالَceased قَلبيmy heart بِالأَسىwith sorrow مُتَأَنِّساًfinding companionship
ما زالَ قَلبي بِالأَسى مُتَأَنِّساً
مُذsince لَقَّبوهُthey nicknamed him بِالغَزالِas the gazelle النافِرِthe skittish
مُذ لَقَّبوهُ بِالغَزالِ النافِرِ
My heart has never ceased to find companionship in sorrow,
My heart has not ceased being intimate with sorrow
since they dubbed him the skittish gazelle.
Since they titled him the nimble gazelle
ياO قَلبُheart قَدindeed بَيَّنتَyou made clear فيهِfor him صَبابَةًpassion
يا قَلبُ قَد بَيَّنتَ فيهِ صَبابَةً
فَيَفوقُso he surpasses مِنfrom عَينَيهِhis two eyes كَيدthe guile of الساحِرِthe sorcerer
فَيَفوقُ مِن عَينَيهِ كَيد الساحِرِ
O heart, you have plainly shown your passion for him,
Oh heart, you have shown your youthfulness in him
so with his eyes he surpasses a sorcerer's guile.
To surpass the sorcery of a sorcerer’s eye
كَيفَhow الخَلاصُescape وَكُلُّand every أَسوَدَblack eye فاتِرٍlanguid
كَيفَ الخَلاصُ وَكُلُّ أَسوَدَ فاتِرٍ
أَضحىhas become يَصولُassailing بكُلَّwith every أَبيَضَwhite blade فاتِرِdull; slack
أَضحى يَصولُ بكُلَّ أَبيَضَ فاتِرِ
How can there be escape, when every languid black eye
How can I be saved when all the apathetic blacks
now attacks with every dull white blade?
Have become raging at every apathetic white?
Sol 6.1