يُقُولُونَ مَجنُونٌ بِسَمراءَ مُولَعٌ

يُقُولُونَ مَجنُونٌ بِسَمراءَ مُولَعٌ

نَعَم زِيدَ فى حُبّى لهَا ووَلُوعِى

نَعَم زِيدَ فى حُبّى لهَا ووَلُوعِى

They say, “A madman, besotted with Samra!”

They say I'm madly in love with a dark-skinned beauty,

Yes—may my love for her and my passion grow.

Yes, my passion and longing for her has increased,

وَإِنّى لأُخفِى حُبَّ سمرَاءَ مَوهِناً

وَإِنّى لأُخفِى حُبَّ سمرَاءَ مَوهِناً

وَيَعلَمُ قَلبِى أَنَّهُ سَيَشِيعُ

وَيَعلَمُ قَلبِى أَنَّهُ سَيَشِيعُ

And I do conceal my love for Samra late at night,

And though I conceal my love for the alluring dark one,

Yet my heart knows it will become widely known.

My heart knows it will become known,

أَظَلُّ كأَنّى واجمٌ لِمُصِيبةٍ

أَظَلُّ كأَنّى واجمٌ لِمُصِيبةٍ

أَلَمَّت وَأَهلِى سالِمُونَ جَمِيعُ

أَلَمَّت وَأَهلِى سالِمُونَ جَمِيعُ

I remain as though silent with grief over a calamity

I go about as if grieving some misfortune,

That has befallen me, though all my family are safe.

That has befallen me while my family remains safe and sound,

ولا خَيرَ فى حُبٍّ يكونُ كأَنّهُ

ولا خَيرَ فى حُبٍّ يكونُ كأَنّهُ

شَغَافٌ أَجنَّتهُ حَشاً وَضُلُوعُ

شَغَافٌ أَجنَّتهُ حَشاً وَضُلُوعُ

And there is no good in love that is like

There is no good in a love that is like

A heart’s membrane concealed by entrails and ribs,

A malignant tumor inside while appearing healthy on the outside,

إذا لَم يكُن فيهِ ثَنَاءٌ مُحَبَّرٌ

إذا لَم يكُن فيهِ ثَنَاءٌ مُحَبَّرٌ

وَمُطَرَّحٌ قَولُ الوُشَاةِ مَنِيعُ

وَمُطَرَّحٌ قَولُ الوُشَاةِ مَنِيعُ

If it contains no finely wrought praise

If it is not accompanied by flattering praise,

And no firm rejection of the slanderers’ words.

And the words of slanderers are cast off disdainfully.