يا مُديرَ الصُّدغ في الخَدِّ الأَسيلْ

يا مُديرَ الصُّدغ في الخَدِّ الأَسيلْ

ومُجيلَ السِّحر بالطَّرفِ الكحيلْ

ومُجيلَ السِّحر بالطَّرفِ الكحيلْ

O you who curl your sidelock upon your smooth cheek,

O director of the temple in the soft cheek,

And cast enchantment with your kohl-dark gaze,

And beautifier of magic with the kohl eyelid,

هل لِمحزونٍ كئيبٍ قُبْلةٌ

هل لِمحزونٍ كئيبٍ قُبْلةٌ

مِنْكَ يَشفي بَردُها حرَّ الغَليلْ

مِنْكَ يَشفي بَردُها حرَّ الغَليلْ

Is there a kiss for a sorrowful, dejected one,

Is there for a sad, gloomy one a kiss

From you, to soothe the heat of longing with its coolness?

From you that would heal the heat of agony?

وقَليلٍ ذاكَ إلا أنَّهُ

وقَليلٍ ذاكَ إلا أنَّهُ

لَيْسَ مِنْ مِثلِك عِنْدي بالقَليلْ

لَيْسَ مِنْ مِثلِك عِنْدي بالقَليلْ

And that is little—yet it

And that is little, except that it

Is no little thing to me, coming from one like you.

Is not like you in my view a little.

بأبي أَحوَرُ غَنَّى مَوْهِناً

بأبي أَحوَرُ غَنَّى مَوْهِناً

بِغِناءٍ قَصَّرَ اللَّيلَ الطَّويلْ

بِغِناءٍ قَصَّرَ اللَّيلَ الطَّويلْ

May my father be ransom for a dark-eyed one who sang late at night,

By my father I sing, Oh weakness,

With a song that shortened the long night:

With a song that shortened the long night.

يا بَني الصَّيداءِ رُدُّوا فَرَسي

يا بَني الصَّيداءِ رُدُّوا فَرَسي

إنَّما يُفْعَلُ هذا بالذَّليلْ

إنَّما يُفْعَلُ هذا بالذَّليلْ

“O sons of al-Ṣaydāʾ, give me back my horse!

O people of hunters return my horse

This is done only to the lowly.”

This is only done by the humiliated one.