وَحُقَّةِand many a casket مِسكٍof musk مِنamong نِسَاءٍwomen لبستُهَاI wore her (embraced her)
وَحُقَّةِ مِسكٍ مِن نِسَاءٍ لبستُهَا
شَبَابيin my youth وَكأسٍand a cup بَاكَرَتنيgreeted me at dawn شَمُولُهَاits wine
شَبَابي وَكأسٍ بَاكَرَتني شَمُولُهَا
And many a woman—a casket of musk—I wrapped myself in
A flask of musk I donned, from ladies worn,
In my youth, and many a cup whose wine greeted me at dawn.
Whose youth recalled the draught that cheered me then,
جَدِيدَةُfresh; new سِربَالِrobe of الشَّبَابِyouth كَأنِّهَاas though she were
جَدِيدَةُ سِربَالِ الشَّبَابِ كَأنِّهَا
سَقِيَّةُa watered shoot بَردِيٍّof papyrus نَمَتهَاmade it grow غيُوُلُهاits streams
سَقِيَّةُ بَردِيٍّ نَمَتهَا غيُوُلُها
Fresh in the robe of youth, as though she were
Like raiment new of spirit young and light
A watered papyrus shoot, nurtured by its streams.
That clothes the branch a pool has laved again.
ومُخمَلَةٍand a soft, plump woman بِاللَّحمِwith flesh مِنfrom دُونِbeneath ثَوبِهاher robe
ومُخمَلَةٍ بِاللَّحمِ مِن دُونِ ثَوبِها
تَطُولُshe surpasses in height القِصَارَthe short women وَالطِّوَالُand the tall women تَطُولُهاsurpass her in height
تَطُولُ القِصَارَ وَالطِّوَالُ تَطُولُها
And a woman, plush with flesh beneath her robe,
In plumèd silk the ripeness of her flesh,
Taller than the short, while the tall stand taller than her.
Long, lithe, and smooth, no shift to hide or shroud.
كأنَّas though دِمَقساًfine silk أوor فُروعَbranches of غَمامَةٍa cloud
كأنَّ دِمَقساً أو فُروعَ غَمامَةٍ
عَلَىupon متَنهاher back حَيثُwhere استَقَرَّsettled جَدِيلُهَاher braid
عَلَى متَنها حَيثُ استَقَرَّ جَدِيلُهَا
As though fine silk, or the branches of a cloud,
As though that graceful swaying were a breeze
Lay upon her back, where her braid had settled.
Amongst Damascan branches dimly bowed,
وأبيَضَand a silver coin منقُوفٍtested by tapping وَزِقٍand a wineskin وقَينَةٍand a singing girl
وأبيَضَ منقُوفٍ وَزِقٍ وقَينَةٍ
وَصَهبَاءَand tawny wine فيin بَيضَاءَa white cup بَادٍvisible حُجُولُهاits anklet-like rings
وَصَهبَاءَ في بَيضَاءَ بَادٍ حُجُولُها
And a tested silver coin, a wineskin, and a singing girl,
Or clouds above a new moon’s crescent pale,
And tawny wine in a white cup, its anklet-like rings visible.
Or fleecy lambs that flock in pasture proud,
إِذَاwhen صبَّis poured فيinto الراوُوقِthe wine-strainer مِنهَاsome of it تَضَوَّعَتit wafts fragrance
إِذَا صبَّ في الراوُوقِ مِنهَا تَضَوَّعَت
كُمَيتُّdark-red wine يُلِذُّdelights الشَّارِبِينَthe drinkers قَلِيلُهاa little of it
كُمَيتُّ يُلِذُّ الشَّارِبِينَ قَلِيلُها
When some is poured into the wine-strainer, it wafts fragrance—
When dewdrops in the pitcher she distils
A dark-red wine, a little of which delights the drinkers.
Sipped by the drinkers, as her gifts allow.
Sol 6.1