سَقانِيhe gave me to drink بِعَيْنَيْهِwith his two eyes شِبْهَthe like of الَّتيthat which
سَقانِي بِعَيْنَيْهِ شِبْهَ الَّتي
بِكَفَّيْهِin his two hands هذاthis one الأَغَنُّْthe soft, nasal-voiced one الرَّشِيقُthe graceful, slender one
بِكَفَّيْهِ هذا الأَغَنُّْ الرَّشِيقُ
With his eyes he gave me a draught like that
in his hands—this sweet-voiced, graceful one.
فَلمْso ... did not أَدْرِI know أَيُّهُماwhich of the two الْمُسْكِرِيthe one intoxicating me
فَلمْ أَدْرِ أَيُّهُما الْمُسْكِرِي
وَأَيُّand which الشَّرابَيْنِthe two drinks مِنْهُfrom him الرَّحِيقُthe pure wine
وَأَيُّ الشَّرابَيْنِ مِنْهُ الرَّحِيقُ
So I knew not which of the two intoxicated me,
and which of his two drinks was pure wine.
بَداhe appeared فِيin قَباءٍa caftan لَهُof his أَخْضَرٍgreen
بَدا فِي قَباءٍ لَهُ أَخْضَرٍ
كَماjust as ضَمِنَenfolded النَّوْرَthe blossoms رَوْضٌa garden أَنِيقُlovely
كَما ضَمِنَ النَّوْرَ رَوْضٌ أَنِيقُ
He appeared in his green caftan,
as a lovely garden enfolds the blossoms.
وَقَدْand already أَسِيَgrieved الدُّرُّthe pearls مِنْbecause of ثَغْرِهِhis mouth
وَقَدْ أَسِيَ الدُّرُّ مِنْ ثَغْرِهِ
وَأُخْجِلَand was put to shame مِنْby وَجْنَتَيْهِhis two cheeks الشّقيقُthe red anemone
وَأُخْجِلَ مِنْ وَجْنَتَيْهِ الشّقيقُ
And pearls had been saddened by his mouth,
and the red anemone was put to shame by his cheeks.
فَماso ... not كِدْتُI nearly مِنْfrom سَكْرَتِيmy drunkenness أَنْto أُفِيقَI regain my senses
فَما كِدْتُ مِنْ سَكْرَتِي أَنْ أُفِيقَ
وَكَيْفَand how يُفِيقُregains his senses الْمُحِبُّthe lover المَشُوقُthe yearning one
وَكَيْفَ يُفِيقُ الْمُحِبُّ المَشُوقُ
So I could scarcely recover from my drunkenness,
and how can a yearning lover recover?
عَلَىupon كَبِدِيmy liver مِنْهُfrom him بَرْدُthe coolness الرِّضىfavor
عَلَى كَبِدِي مِنْهُ بَرْدُ الرِّضى
وَإِنْand even though كانَthere is فِيin الْقَلْبِthe heart مِنْهُfrom him الْحَرِيقُthe blaze
وَإِنْ كانَ فِي الْقَلْبِ مِنْهُ الْحَرِيقُ
Upon my liver lies the coolness of his favor,
though in my heart there burns a fire from him.
وَلَسْتُand I am not بِأَوَّلِthe first ذِيone possessed of صَبْوَةٍpassion
وَلَسْتُ بِأَوَّلِ ذِي صَبْوَةٍ
تَحَمَّلَhe bore فِيin الْحُبِّlove ماwhat لاnot يُطِيقُhe can endure
تَحَمَّلَ فِي الْحُبِّ ما لا يُطِيقُ
Nor am I the first man of passion
to bear in love what he cannot endure.
Sol 6.1