ولَيْلَةٍand a night باتَspent the night طَلُّfine drizzle الغَيثِof rain يَنْسُجُهاweaves her
ولَيْلَةٍ باتَ طَلُّ الغَيثِ يَنْسُجُها
حتىuntil إذاwhen كَمُلَتْshe was complete أَضحىbegan in the morning يُدَبِّجُهاembroiders her
حتى إذا كَمُلَتْ أَضحى يُدَبِّجُها
And a night the rain’s fine drizzle spent weaving,
And one night, the longing for rain wove it
until, once she was complete, it began embroidering her in the morning.
Until when completed, dawn embroidered it
يَبكيweeps عليهاover her بُكاءَthe weeping of الصَّبِthe lovesick lover فارقَهُleft him
يَبكي عليها بُكاءَ الصَّبِ فارقَهُ
إِلْفٌa beloved ويُضْحِكُهاand makes her laugh طوراًat times ويُبْهِجُهاand gladdens her
إِلْفٌ ويُضْحِكُها طوراً ويُبْهِجُها
It wept over her like a lovesick lover abandoned by
It weeps over it with the crying of morning leaving it
a beloved, and at times made her laugh and filled her with joy.
A familiarity, and soon cheers it and gladdens it
إذاwhen يُضَاحِكُlaughs with فيهاwithin her الوَرْدُthe rose نَرْجِسَهاher narcissus
إذا يُضَاحِكُ فيها الوَرْدُ نَرْجِسَها
باهىvied with زَكِيَّfragrant خُزَاماهاher lavender بَنَفْسَجُهاher violet
باهى زَكِيَّ خُزَاماها بَنَفْسَجُها
When the rose within her laughed with her narcissus,
When the roses in it smile with their narcissi
her violet vied with her fragrant lavender.
Showing off, fresh with their violet
فقلتُso I said فيهاduring it لِسَاقيناto our cupbearer وفيand in يَدِهِhis hand
فقلتُ فيها لِسَاقينا وفي يَدِهِ
كَأْسٌa cup كَشُعْلَةِlike a flame of نارٍfire باتَspent the night يُوهِجُهاmakes it glow
كَأْسٌ كَشُعْلَةِ نارٍ باتَ يُوهِجُها
So that night I said to our cupbearer, while in his hand
So I said in it to our cupbearer and in his hand
was a cup like a flame of fire he kept glowing all night:
A cup like the flame of fire that spent the night igniting it
لاdo not تَمْزُجَنْهاever mix it بغيرwith anything but الماءِwater مِنْكَfrom you فإنْfor if
لا تَمْزُجَنْها بغير الماءِ مِنْكَ فإنْ
تَبْخَلْare stingy يداكَyour two hands فَدَمْعيthen my tears سَوْفَwill يَمْزُجُهاmix it
تَبْخَلْ يداكَ فَدَمْعي سَوْفَ يَمْزُجُها
“Do not mix it with anything but water from you; for if
Do not mix it with anything other than water from you, and if
your hands are stingy, then my tears will mix it.
Your hand is stingy, my tears will mix it
أَقَلُّthe least ماwhat بِيَin me مِنْfrom حُبِّيكَmy love for you أَنَّthat يَدِيmy hand
أَقَلُّ ما بِيَ مِنْ حُبِّيكَ أَنَّ يَدِي
إذاwhen سَمَتْrises نَحْوَtoward قَلْبيmy heart كادَalmost يُنْضِجُهاcooks it
إذا سَمَتْ نَحْوَ قَلْبي كادَ يُنْضِجُها
The least of what my love for you does to me is that my hand,
The least of my love for you is that my hand
when it rises toward my heart, is almost cooked by it.”
When it reaches for my heart, almost burns it
Sol 6.1