فيin كُلِّevery يَومٍday رِحلَةٌa journey وَمَقامُand a sojourn
في كُلِّ يَومٍ رِحلَةٌ وَمَقامُ
وَوَداعُand farewell مَنthe one whom أَحبَبتُهُI loved him وَسَلامُand a greeting
وَوَداعُ مَن أَحبَبتُهُ وَسَلامُ
Each day brings a journey and a sojourn,
Each day a journey and an abode
And farewell to one I loved, and a greeting.
And farewell to those I loved, and peace
قَذَفَتhurled بِناwith us أَيديthe hands of النَوىseparation جوزَthe middle of الفَلاthe wilderness
قَذَفَت بِنا أَيدي النَوى جوزَ الفَلا
وَكَأَنَّهاand as though it were قَوسٌa bow وَنَحنُand we سِهامُarrows
وَكَأَنَّها قَوسٌ وَنَحنُ سِهامُ
The hands of separation hurled us into the heart of the wilderness,
The hands of destiny cast us as arrows
As though it were a bow, and we were arrows.
As though a bow, and we the arrows
لاdo not تَبعَثَنَّever send مَعَwith الحَمامِthe doves رِسالَةًa letter
لا تَبعَثَنَّ مَعَ الحَمامِ رِسالَةً
فيin القَلبِthe heart مِنهاfrom it لَوعَةٌanguish وَغَرامُand consuming love
في القَلبِ مِنها لَوعَةٌ وَغَرامُ
Never send a letter with the doves:
Send no message with the dove
In the heart, it brings anguish and consuming love.
In my heart is agony and passion from it
فَالكُتُبُfor the letters عِندَin the eyes of العاشِقينَthe lovers كَأَنَّهاas though they were
فَالكُتُبُ عِندَ العاشِقينَ كَأَنَّها
مِمّاamong what يُهَيِّجُstirs passion وَالحَمامُand the doves حِمامُdeath
مِمّا يُهَيِّجُ وَالحَمامُ حِمامُ
For letters, to lovers, seem to be
For lovers, books are like
Among things that stir passion—and doves are death.
What awakens, while doves are doves
مَنwho ليfor me بِصَيدِwith hunting ظِباءِgazelles مَكَّةَMecca مَوهِناًlate at night
مَن لي بِصَيدِ ظِباءِ مَكَّةَ مَوهِناً
وَالصَيدُand hunting فيin البَلَدِthe city الحَرامِsacred حَرامُforbidden
وَالصَيدُ في البَلَدِ الحَرامِ حَرامُ
Who will help me hunt Mecca's gazelles late at night,
Who will grant me hunting gazelles in Mecca
While hunting in the sacred city is forbidden?
When hunting in the sacred land is taboo
وَمُهَفهَفٍand a slender one ماnever اِهتَزَّswayed تيهاًproudly أَوor رَناgazed
وَمُهَفهَفٍ ما اِهتَزَّ تيهاً أَو رَنا
إِلاّexcept that بَداappeared لَكَto you ذابِلٌa slender spear وَحُسامُand a keen sword
إِلاّ بَدا لَكَ ذابِلٌ وَحُسامُ
And a slender one, who never swayed proudly or gazed
No sandgrouse moved or sang
Without a slender spear and a keen sword appearing before you.
Except it seemed to you fading and plucked
فيin وَجنَتَيهِhis two cheeks جَنَّةٌparadise وَجَهَنَّمٌand hell
في وَجنَتَيهِ جَنَّةٌ وَجَهَنَّمٌ
وَبِمُقلَتَيهِand in his two eyes صِحَّةٌhealth وَسَقامُand sickness
وَبِمُقلَتَيهِ صِحَّةٌ وَسَقامُ
In his two cheeks are paradise and hell,
In his eyes a paradise and hell
And in his two eyes are health and sickness.
And in his eyelids health and sickness
ماnever رُمتُI sought ذاكَthat الظَبيَthe gazelle إِلّاexcept that صَدَّنيbarred me
ما رُمتُ ذاكَ الظَبيَ إِلّا صَدَّني
عَنfrom ساحَتَيهِhis two courtyards الشَيبُgray hair وَالإِسلامُand Islam
عَن ساحَتَيهِ الشَيبُ وَالإِسلامُ
Whenever I sought that gazelle, I was barred
I did not shoot that gazelle but it stopped me
From his two courtyards by gray hair and Islam.
From its field, old age and Islam
Sol 6.1