كَمhow many لِلمُلاءَةِfor al-Mulāʾa مِنof أَطلالِruined traces مَنزِلَةٍa dwelling
كَم لِلمُلاءَةِ مِن أَطلالِ مَنزِلَةٍ
بِالعَنبَرِيَّةِat al-ʿAnbariyya مِثلَlike المُهرَقِthe parchment الباليworn-out
بِالعَنبَرِيَّةِ مِثلَ المُهرَقِ البالي
How many ruined traces of a dwelling al-Mulāʾa has,
At al-ʿAnbariyya, like worn-out parchment!
وَقَفتُI stood فيهاamong them فَعَيَّتthen they were speechless ماnot تُكَلِّمُنيthey speak to me
وَقَفتُ فيها فَعَيَّت ما تُكَلِّمُني
وَماand what use is سُؤالُكَyour questioning رَسماًa ruined trace بَعدَafter أَحوالِyears
وَما سُؤالُكَ رَسماً بَعدَ أَحوالِ
I stood among them; they were speechless, not speaking to me.
And what use is your questioning a trace after years?
غَزالَةُradiance الشَمسِof the sun لاnot يَصحوregains its senses الفُؤادُthe heart بِهاthrough it
غَزالَةُ الشَمسِ لا يَصحو الفُؤادُ بِها
حَتّىuntil تَرَوَّحتُI departed in the evening لَأياًwith difficulty بَعدَafter إيصالِthe onset of late afternoon
حَتّى تَرَوَّحتُ لَأياً بَعدَ إيصالِ
The sun's radiance could not bring the heart to its senses,
Until, with difficulty, I set off after late afternoon.
كَأَنَّماas though طَرَفَتhad struck عَينَيَّmy two eyes كاحِلَةٌa kohl-eyed doe
كَأَنَّما طَرَفَت عَينَيَّ كاحِلَةٌ
فيin الدارِthe dwelling مِنfrom سَرِبٍa herd بِالماءِby the water مِسيالِstreaming
في الدارِ مِن سَرِبٍ بِالماءِ مِسيالِ
As though a kohl-eyed doe had struck my two eyes,
In the dwelling, from a herd streaming by the water.
أَوor كَاِبنِlike Ibn عَجلانَʿAjlān إِذwhen كانَتshe was لَهُfor him تَلَفاًruin
أَو كَاِبنِ عَجلانَ إِذ كانَت لَهُ تَلَفاً
هِندُHind الهُنودِof all Hinds بِمِقدارٍby destiny وَآجالِand appointed times
هِندُ الهُنودِ بِمِقدارٍ وَآجالِ
Or like Ibn ʿAjlān, when she was his ruin—
Hind of all Hinds, by destiny and appointed times.
تَرميshe shoots at القُلوبَthe hearts وَلاand not يَصطادُهاcaptures her أَحَدٌanyone
تَرمي القُلوبَ وَلا يَصطادُها أَحَدٌ
بِسَهمِwith an arrow قانِصَةٍof a huntress لِلقَومِto the men قَتّالِdeadly
بِسَهمِ قانِصَةٍ لِلقَومِ قَتّالِ
She shoots at hearts, yet no one captures her,
With a huntress's arrow, deadly to men.
غَرثىslender الوِشاحِat the sash وَلَكِنَّand yet النِطاقَthe girdle بِهاabout her
غَرثى الوِشاحِ وَلَكِنَّ النِطاقَ بِها
يُلاثُis wound حَولَaround رِمالٍsand-dunes ذاتِpossessing أَكفالِhaunches
يُلاثُ حَولَ رِمالٍ ذاتِ أَكفالِ
Slender at the sash, yet the girdle about her
Is wound around sand-dunes with swelling haunches.
ماno أُمُّa mother of خِشفٍa fawn بِرَوضاتِin the meadows of الذِهابِal-Dhihāb لَهاfor her
ما أُمُّ خِشفٍ بِرَوضاتِ الذِهابِ لَها
مَرعىa pasture فَرودٍsolitary مِنَapart from الأُلّافِthe herd-mates مِطفالِwith a young one
مَرعى فَرودٍ مِنَ الأُلّافِ مِطفالِ
No mother of a fawn in the meadows of al-Dhihāb, with
Her own pasture, solitary apart from her herd-mates, with her young,
أَدماءُa pale doe يَنفُضُshake off رَوقاهاher two horns إِذاwhen اِدَّمَجَتshe slips in
أَدماءُ يَنفُضُ رَوقاها إِذا اِدَّمَجَت
عَنهاaway from her الأَراكَthe arak trees وَأَغصاناًand branches مِنَof الدالِthe dāl trees
عَنها الأَراكَ وَأَغصاناً مِنَ الدالِ
A pale doe, whose two horns, when she slips in, shake
The arak and branches of dāl away from her;
وَلاnor مُكَلَّلَةٌgarlanded راحَcame at evening السِماكُal-Simāk لَهاfor it
وَلا مُكَلَّلَةٌ راحَ السِماكُ لَها
فيin ناحِراتِthe last nights of سَرارٍthe moon's dark phase قَبلَbefore إِهلالِthe crescent's appearance
في ناحِراتِ سَرارٍ قَبلَ إِهلالِ
Nor a garlanded meadow for which al-Simāk came at evening,
In the last moonless nights before the crescent's rise.
تَجلوshe bares بِقادِمَتَيهِwith its two front teeth لَمياءَa dark-lipped woman عَنfrom over بَرَدٍhailstones
تَجلو بِقادِمَتَيهِ لَمياءَ عَن بَرَدٍ
حُوِّdusky اللِثاثِthe gums وَجيدٍand a neck غَيرِnot مِعطالِunadorned
حُوِّ اللِثاثِ وَجيدٍ غَيرِ مِعطالِ
A dark-lipped woman bares the mouth's two front teeth, white as hail,
With dusky gums, and a neck not bare of adornment.
لاnot توقِدُshe lights النارَthe fire إِلّاexcept أَنto تُثَقِّبَهاshe kindles it
لا توقِدُ النارَ إِلّا أَن تُثَقِّبَها
بِالعودِwith aloeswood فيin مِفضَلِa house-robe الخِزِّيَّةِof silk fabric الغاليcostly
بِالعودِ في مِفضَلِ الخِزِّيَّةِ الغالي
She lights no fire except to kindle it
With aloeswood, in her costly silk house-robe.
وَالطيبُand perfume يَزدادُgrows طيباًin fragrance أَنbecause يَكونَit is بِهاupon her
وَالطيبُ يَزدادُ طيباً أَن يَكونَ بِها
وَإِنand if تَدَعهُshe forgoes it تَدَعهُshe forgoes it غَيرَnot مِتفالِlacking fragrance
وَإِن تَدَعهُ تَدَعهُ غَيرَ مِتفالِ
And perfume grows more fragrant from being upon her;
And if she forgoes it, she does so without becoming scentless.
Sol 6.1