لامblamed العذولُthe reproacher علىfor هواكِlove for you وفَنَّداand called it folly
لام العذولُ على هواكِ وفَنَّدا
فأَعادَso he revived باللَّوْمthrough reproach الغرامَpassion كماas بَدَاit first arose
فأَعادَ باللَّوْم الغرامَ كما بَدَا
The reproacher blamed me for loving you and called it folly;
The blamer blamed me for loving you,
so his reproach renewed my passion as when it first arose.
And so love returned as it began.
رشأٌa fawn اتَّخَذَmade الضُّلوعَthe ribs كِنَاسَهhis shelter
رشأٌ اتَّخَذَ الضُّلوعَ كِنَاسَه
والقلبَand the heart مرعىًa pasture والمدامِعَand the tear ducts مَوْردَاa watering place
والقلبَ مرعىً والمدامِعَ مَوْردَا
A fawn who made my ribs his shelter,
A gazelle that made its ribs its quiver,
my heart his pasture, and my tearful eyes his watering place.
Its heart a pasture, its tears a stream.
ثِملُdrunken القَوامin bearing إِذاwhen بَداhe appears وإِذاand when رَنَاhe gazes
ثِملُ القَوام إِذا بَدا وإِذا رَنَا
فضحَhe put to shame الغزالةِthe sun والغزالَand the gazelle الأَغْيَدَاsupple
فضحَ الغزالةِ والغزالَ الأَغْيَدَا
Drunken in bearing, when he appears and when he gazes,
Slender in form when it appeared and when it bent,
he puts the sun and the supple gazelle to shame.
It exposed the loveliness of a gazelle and the softness of an oryx.
كالْوَرْدِlike a rose خدّاًin cheek والهِلالِand like the crescent moon تَباعُداًin remoteness
كالْوَرْدِ خدّاً والهِلالِ تَباعُداً
والظَّبْيand like the gazelle جِيداًin neck والقَضِيبِand like a branch تأَوُّداًin swaying
والظَّبْي جِيداً والقَضِيبِ تأَوُّداً
Like a rose in cheek, a crescent in remoteness,
With cheeks like roses and distance like the crescent moon,
a gazelle in neck, a branch in swaying.
With a neck like an antelope's and a body gentle and loving,
مُترنِّحُswaying الأَعطافِthe body's sides منfrom خَمْرِthe wine الصِّبَاof youth
مُترنِّحُ الأَعطافِ من خَمْرِ الصِّبَا
أَوor ماnot تراهُyou see him باللِّحاظِwith glances مُعَرْبِدَاdrunkenly unruly
أَو ما تراهُ باللِّحاظِ مُعَرْبِدَا
His limbs sway from the wine of youth;
Swaying in the drunkenness of youth,
or do you not see him running riot with his glances?
Or what you see it wearing of perfume.
أَيقَنتُI knew for certain أَنَّthat المدَامَةِwine ريقَهُhis saliva
أَيقَنتُ أَنَّ المدَامَةِ ريقَهُ
لَمَّاwhen بَدَاappeared دُرُّthe pearls الحَبَابِof the foam مُنَضَّدَاarranged in rows
لَمَّا بَدَا دُرُّ الحَبَابِ مُنَضَّدَا
I knew for certain that his saliva was wine,
I knew the wine was his spittle
when the pearls of its foam appeared in ordered rows.
When the pearl of his cheek appeared polished.
وعَلِمْتُand I knew أَنَّthat منof الحديدِiron فؤادَهُhis heart
وعَلِمْتُ أَنَّ من الحديدِ فؤادَهُ
لماwhen انْتَضَىhe unsheathed مِنْfrom مُقْلَتَيْهhis two eyes مهنَّداan Indian-steel sword
لما انْتَضَى مِنْ مُقْلَتَيْه مهنَّدا
And I knew that his heart was made of iron,
And I knew his heart was of iron
when he drew an Indian-steel sword from his eyes.
When his eyelashes glistened, rubbed.
سيفٌa sword تَرَقْرقَshimmered فيin مياهِthe watery sheen فِرِنْدِهof its blade-pattern
سيفٌ تَرَقْرقَ في مياهِ فِرِنْدِه
يأَبَىrefuses بغَيْرanywhere but جوانحيmy ribs أَنْto يُغْمَدَاbe sheathed
يأَبَى بغَيْر جوانحي أَنْ يُغْمَدَا
A sword shimmering in the watery sheen of its pattern,
A sword that glittered in the waters of its blade
refusing to be sheathed anywhere but within my ribs.
Refusing, save to my wings, to be sheathed.
مَنْwho مُنْصِفِيmy vindicator منْagainst جَوْرهِhis tyranny فلقدfor indeed عُنىhe is intent
مَنْ مُنْصِفِي منْ جَوْرهِ فلقد عُنى
بدميon my blood وسيفَand the sword لحاظِهof his glances متقلِّداgirt
بدمي وسيفَ لحاظِه متقلِّدا
Who will grant me justice against his tyranny? For he is intent
Who will do me justice from his tyranny?
on my blood, girt with the sword of his glances.
For he has busied himself with my blood, wearing his sword-belt.
زرقُblue-gray الأَسِنَّةِthe spearheads فيon الرِّماحthe lances فلمand did not أَرَI see
زرقُ الأَسِنَّةِ في الرِّماح فلم أَرَ
فيon رُمْحthe lance قامَتِهِof his stature سِنَاناًa spearhead أَسْوَدَاblack
في رُمْح قامَتِهِ سِنَاناً أَسْوَدَا
Spearheads on lances are blue-gray; I have never seen
Blue of swords in lances, but I did not see
a black spearhead on the lance of his stature.
In the lance of his stature a black point.
آنستُI glimpsed منfrom وجديmy longing بجانبbeside خَدِّهِhis cheek
آنستُ من وجدي بجانب خَدِّهِ
ناراًa fire ولكنbut ماnot وَجَدْتُI found بهاin it هُدَىguidance
ناراً ولكن ما وَجَدْتُ بها هُدَى
In my longing, I glimpsed beside his cheek
I sensed the fire of my love next to his cheek,
a fire, but found no guidance in it.
But I did not find guidance in it.
متورّدُrose-hued الوَجَنَاتِin the cheeks ماnot حيَّيْتهُI greeted him
متورّدُ الوَجَنَاتِ ما حيَّيْتهُ
إِلاَّexcept ارتدىhe donned ثوبَthe robe الحَياءِof modesty مُورَّداrose-red
إِلاَّ ارتدى ثوبَ الحَياءِ مُورَّدا
He is rosy-cheeked; I never greeted him
He of reddened cheeks, when I greeted him,
without his donning modesty's rose-red robe.
Only wore the garment of shyness anew.
أَلقيتُI cast إِكسيرَthe elixir اللِّحاظِof glances بِخَدِّهupon his cheek
أَلقيتُ إِكسيرَ اللِّحاظِ بِخَدِّه
فقلبتُand so I turned فِضَّةَthe silver وَجْنَتَيْهof his two cheeks عِسْجداًgold
فقلبتُ فِضَّةَ وَجْنَتَيْه عِسْجداً
I cast the elixir of glances upon his cheek,
I cast the elixir of my gaze on his cheek,
and turned the silver of his cheeks to gold.
And so transformed the silver of his cheeks to unripe dates.
Sol 6.1