ماwhat ليfor me وَلِلّاحيand with the reproacher عَلَيكَabout you يُعَنِّفُrebukes harshly
ما لي وَلِلّاحي عَلَيكَ يُعَنِّفُ
كَيفَhow السُلُوُّforgetting love وَأَنتَand you غُصنٌa bough أَهيَفُslender
كَيفَ السُلُوُّ وَأَنتَ غُصنٌ أَهيَفُ
What have I to do with the reproacher who harshly rebukes me over you?
Why do people rebuke me for yearning after you?
How can I forget, when you are a slender bough?
How can I be blamed when you are so alluring?
يَصحوrecovers مِنَfrom البُرَحاءِthe anguish غَيرَother than مُتَيَّمٍa love-thrall
يَصحو مِنَ البُرَحاءِ غَيرَ مُتَيَّمٍ
دارَتcirculated عَلَيهِto him مِنfrom لِحاظِكَyour glances قُرقُفُwine
دارَت عَلَيهِ مِن لِحاظِكَ قُرقُفُ
Others recover from anguish, but not a love-thrall
I awake from a tryst still drunk with desire,
To whom wine from your glances has been passed.
Dizzy from the intoxicating glances of your eyes.
لاno وَاِهتِزازَكَby your swaying كَالقضيبِlike a branch ألِيَّةًan oath
لا وَاِهتِزازَكَ كَالقضيبِ ألِيَّةً
ماnot قَرَّfound rest مِنfrom وَجدٍlonging عَلَيكَfor you المُدنِفُthe lovesick man
ما قَرَّ مِن وَجدٍ عَلَيكَ المُدنِفُ
No! By your swaying like a branch, I swear:
Your swaying is not unlike a supple bough,
The lovesick man has found no rest from longing for you.
Yet no other lover could evoke such passion in me.
غَيريsomeone other than me عَلىin السَلوانِforgetting يَعزىfinds solace وَالقلاand aversion
غَيري عَلى السَلوانِ يَعزى وَالقلا
وَسِوىand other than فُؤاديmy heart بِالمَلامَةِwith reproach يعرفُis acquainted
وَسِوى فُؤادي بِالمَلامَةِ يعرفُ
Others, not I, find solace in forgetting and aversion;
Others may pine for the willowy sapling,
And a heart other than mine is acquainted with reproach.
But my heart knows only you as its solace.
لَكَyou have مُقلَةan eye كَحلاءُkohl-dark هاروتِيَّةٌenchanting like Harut
لَكَ مُقلَة كَحلاءُ هاروتِيَّةٌ
ماno لِلهَوىfor love العُذرِيِّchaste عَنهاfrom it مَصرِفُescape
ما لِلهَوى العُذرِيِّ عَنها مَصرِفُ
You have a kohl-dark eye, enchanting as Harut;
Your eyelashes hold such sorcery like Orion’s belt,
From it chaste love has no escape.
My passion for you has no defenses against them.
تُركِيَّةُTurkish الأَلحاظِthe glances تَفعَلُdoes فيin الحَشاthe breast
تُركِيَّةُ الأَلحاظِ تَفعَلُ في الحَشا
ماwhat لَيسَdoes not يَفعَلُهُdoes it الحُسامُthe sword المُرهَفُfinely honed
ما لَيسَ يَفعَلُهُ الحُسامُ المُرهَفُ
Turkish in its glances, it works within my breast
Your Turkish glances work their magic in the night,
What the finely honed sword does not do.
As no sharpened sword ever could.
ياO مُخلِفَpromise-breaker العُشّاقِthe lovers وَعَدَthe promise وِصالِهِunion with him
يا مُخلِفَ العُشّاقِ وَعَدَ وِصالِهِ
هَلّاwhy not مَواعيدُpromises التَجَنّيunjust cruelty تَخلُفُgo unfulfilled
هَلّا مَواعيدُ التَجَنّي تَخلُفُ
O you who break your promise of union to lovers,
O you who disappoint lovers and break your word,
Why not leave your promises of cruelty unfulfilled?
Will you continue to fail in keeping your promises?
حَمَّلتَنيyou burdened me ثِقلَthe weight الغَرامِpassion وَإِنَّنيand indeed I
حَمَّلتَني ثِقلَ الغَرامِ وَإِنَّني
عَنfor حَملِcarrying أَثوابيmy clothes أَكَلَّtoo weary وَأَضعَفُand too weak
عَن حَملِ أَثوابي أَكَلَّ وَأَضعَفُ
You burdened me with the weight of passion, though I
You burdened me with the heaviest weight of love,
Am too weary and weak to carry even my clothes.
Making me too weak to even bear my own clothes.
وَجديmy yearning عَلَيكَfor you كَماas عَلِمتَyou know وَلَوعَتيand my burning anguish
وَجدي عَلَيكَ كَما عَلِمتَ وَلَوعَتي
طَبعٌinborn nature وَصَبريand my patience فيin هَواكَlove for you تَكَلُّفُforced effort
طَبعٌ وَصَبري في هَواكَ تَكَلُّفُ
My yearning for you, as you know, and my burning anguish
You know my love for you and the agony it brings,
Are inborn; my patience in loving you is forced.
Though my patience and restraint belie the tempest within.
لَوif أَنَّthat قَلبَكَyour heart مِثلَlike قَلبيmy heart لَمnot أَبِتI spend the night
لَو أَنَّ قَلبَكَ مِثلَ قَلبي لَم أَبِت
وَالجِسمُand the body مِنّيof mine مِثلُlike خَصرِكَyour waist مَخطَفُwasted thin
وَالجِسمُ مِنّي مِثلُ خَصرِكَ مَخطَفُ
If your heart were like mine, I would not pass the night
If only your heart was like mine, I would never protest,
With my body drawn thin as your waist.
And if my body was as slender as your waist, I’d be overjoyed.
وَيلاهُalas for me مِنbecause of قَمَرٍa moon بِكُلِّwith every مَلاحَةٍcharm
وَيلاهُ مِن قَمَرٍ بِكُلِّ مَلاحَةٍ
بَينَamong الَأنامِhumankind وَكُلَّand every حُسنٍbeauty يوصَفُis described
بَينَ الَأنامِ وَكُلَّ حُسنٍ يوصَفُ
Alas for me, for a moon endowed with every charm,
What a remarkable beauty you are, the cynosure of all eyes,
And described among humankind as possessing every beauty.
Excelling in every admired attribute!
ياO قَلبَهُhis heart القاسيcruel تَعَلَّمlearn عِطفَةًtenderness
يا قَلبَهُ القاسي تَعَلَّم عِطفَةً
مِنfrom قَدِّهِhis figure فَعَسىso perhaps تَرِقَّyou grow tender وَتَعطِفُand show kindness
مِن قَدِّهِ فَعَسى تَرِقَّ وَتَعطِفُ
O cruel heart of his, learn tenderness
O hard-hearted one, learn tenderness from your stature,
From his figure; perhaps you will soften and be kind.
Perhaps you'll soften and become kind.
لَكَyou have ياO أَميريmy prince فيin المَلاحَةِbeauty ناظِرٌan eye
لَكَ يا أَميري في المَلاحَةِ ناظِرٌ
يَسطوassails عَلَيَّagainst me وَحاجِبٌand a brow لاnot يَتَّصِفُis described
يَسطو عَلَيَّ وَحاجِبٌ لا يَتَّصِفُ
You, my prince of beauty, have an eye—an overseer—
My prince, your gaze reigns despotically over me,
That assails me, and a brow—a chamberlain—beyond description.
With eyebrows impervious to entreaty.
مَنwho آخِذٌwill take بِيَديby my hand وَقَدَّكَand your stature عامِلٌa governor
مَن آخِذٌ بِيَدي وَقَدَّكَ عامِلٌ
لاnot يَسمَعُhears الشَكوىthe complaint وَصَدغُكَand your temple-lock مُشرِفُan overseer
لا يَسمَعُ الشَكوى وَصَدغُكَ مُشرِفُ
Who will take my hand? Your stature is a governor
Another leads me by the hand while you stand aloof,
Who hears no complaint, and your temple-lock is an overseer.
Deaf to complaint, your cheek lifted disdainfully.
إِنّيindeed I أُؤَمِّلُhope أَنto أَرىsee لَكَon you عارِضاًcheek-down
إِنّي أُؤَمِّلُ أَن أَرى لَكَ عارِضاً
فَلَعَلَّهُso perhaps it عَنّيfrom me الظَلامthe darkness يُكشِفُdispels
فَلَعَلَّهُ عَنّي الظَلام يُكشِفُ
I hope to see down on your cheek—a reviewing officer;
Still I hope to meet your downcast eyes,
Perhaps it will lift the darkness from me.
That might dispel the darkness surrounding me.
كَذَبَlied الَّذيthe one who ظَنَّthought المَلاحَةَbeauty كُلَّهاall of it
كَذَبَ الَّذي ظَنَّ المَلاحَةَ كُلَّها
فيin يوسُفٍYusuf كَمhow many فيin جَمالِكَyour beauty يوسُفُYusuf
في يوسُفٍ كَم في جَمالِكَ يوسُفُ
He lied who thought that all beauty
False is he who claimed perfection of beauty
Was in Yusuf—how many Yusufs are in your beauty!
Resided only in Joseph, for it dwells abundantly in you.
أَتَكَلَّفُI force myself الإِعراضَturning away عَنكَfrom you مَخافَةَfor fear of الthe
أَتَكَلَّفُ الإِعراضَ عَنكَ مَخافَةَ ال
واشيtale-bearer إِلىuntil كَمhow long جَهدَthe strain of ماwhat أَتَكَلَّفُI force myself to do
واشي إِلى كَم جَهدَ ما أَتَكَلَّفُ
I force myself to turn away from you for fear of the
Shall I shun you for fear of scandal
Tale-bearer—how long must I strain at this pretense?
When I've striven beyond limit to avoid you already?
وَأَقَلُّand the least of ماwhat أَلقاهُI suffer it إِنَّكَindeed you مُنكِرٌdenying
وَأَقَلُّ ما أَلقاهُ إِنَّكَ مُنكِرٌ
وَجديmy longing عَلَيكَfor you وَأَنتَand you مِنّيthan I أَعرِفُmore knowing
وَجدي عَلَيكَ وَأَنتَ مِنّي أَعرِفُ
And the least of what I suffer is that you deny
The least I can say is you deny me,
My longing for you, though you know it better than I.
Though none knows my love for you better than you.
Sol 6.1