أَلَاHear now بَلِّغْtell بَنِيthe sons of قَحْطَانَQahtan أَنِّيthat I
أَلَا بَلِّغْ بَنِي قَحْطَانَ أَنِّي
زَرَعْتُI planted الشِّعْرَpoetry فِيin كَبِدِيmy liver فَأَوْرَقْso it put forth leaves
زَرَعْتُ الشِّعْرَ فِي كَبِدِي فَأَوْرَقْ
Hear now, tell the sons of Qahtan that I
Planted poetry in my liver, so it put forth leaves,
وَأَثْمَرَand it bore fruit فِيthrough الْفُصُولِthe seasons بِلَاwithout انْقِطَاعِinterruption
وَأَثْمَرَ فِي الْفُصُولِ بِلَا انْقِطَاعِ
جَنَىharvested مِنْهُfrom it الَّذِيthe one whom أَهْوَىI love وَأَعْشَقْand I adore
جَنَى مِنْهُ الَّذِي أَهْوَى وَأَعْشَقْ
And bore fruit through the seasons without ceasing;
The one I love and adore harvested its fruit.
Sol 6.1