حَتّىuntil مَتىwhen لاnot يَبرَحُdeparts التَبريحُtorment
حَتّى مَتى لا يَبرَحُ التَبريحُ
وَإِلامَand until when أَكتُمُI conceal وَالسَقامُwhile sickness يَبوحُdiscloses
وَإِلامَ أَكتُمُ وَالسَقامُ يَبوحُ
How long will this torment last?
And how long shall I conceal it, while sickness reveals it?
لاno شَرحُan account كُتُبِthe letters of أَحِبَتيmy loved ones يَأتيcomes وَلاnor
لا شَرحُ كُتُبِ أَحِبَتي يَأتي وَلا
صَدريmy breast بِغَيرِby other than حَديثِهِمtalk of them مَشروحُgladdened
صَدري بِغَيرِ حَديثِهِم مَشروحُ
No account from my loved ones' letters reaches me, nor
is my breast gladdened by anything but talk of them.
ياO بَرقُgreet حَيِّthe two Ghoutas الغَوطَتَينِand water it وَسَقِّهاand water it
يا بَرقُ حَيِّ الغَوطَتَينِ وَسَقِّها
مَطَراًrain حَكاهُmirrored it دَمعِيَmy tears المَسفوحُpoured forth
مَطَراً حَكاهُ دَمعِيَ المَسفوحُ
O lightning, greet the two Ghoutas and water them
with rain mirrored by my streaming tears.
كَيفَhow الحَياةُlife لِمُستَهامٍfor one mad with love جِسمُهُhis body
كَيفَ الحَياةُ لِمُستَهامٍ جِسمُهُ
فيin بَعلَبَكَّBaalbek وَفيand in دِمَشقَDamascus الروحُthe soul
في بَعلَبَكَّ وَفي دِمَشقَ الروحُ
What life is there for one mad with love, whose body
is in Baalbek, while his soul is in Damascus?
ظَبيٌa gazelle بِهاin it لَمdid not يَرعَgraze إِلّاexcept مُهجَتيmy heart
ظَبيٌ بِها لَم يَرعَ إِلّا مُهجَتي
وَالظَبيُand the gazelle ماnot مَرعاهُits pasture إِلّاexcept الشيحُwormwood
وَالظَبيُ ما مَرعاهُ إِلّا الشيحُ
A gazelle there has grazed on nothing but my heart,
yet a gazelle's only pasture is wormwood.
تَشتاقُهُyearns for him عَينيmy eye وَيُبكيهاand he makes it weep دَماًblood
تَشتاقُهُ عَيني وَيُبكيها دَماً
وَالقَلبُand the heart وَهُوَwhile it is بِصَدِّهِby his rejection مَجروحُwounded
وَالقَلبُ وَهُوَ بِصَدِّهِ مَجروحُ
My eye yearns for him, and he makes it weep blood;
and my heart does too, though wounded by his rejection.
مُتَعَطِّفُcurling الصُدغَينِthe two temple-locks وَهُوَand he is مُحَبَّبٌbeloved
مُتَعَطِّفُ الصُدغَينِ وَهُوَ مُحَبَّبٌ
مُتَمَرِّضُlanguishing العَينَينِthe two eyes وَهُوَthough he is صَحيحُhealthy
مُتَمَرِّضُ العَينَينِ وَهُوَ صَحيحُ
His temple-locks curl, and he is beloved;
his eyes languish, though he is healthy.
ليfor me مِنfrom ثَناياهُhis front teeth العَذابِsweet وَريقِهِand his saliva
لي مِن ثَناياهُ العَذابِ وَريقِهِ
أَبَداًforever صَباحٌa dawn واضِحٌradiant وَصَبوحُand a morning draught
أَبَداً صَباحٌ واضِحٌ وَصَبوحُ
From his sweet front teeth and his saliva, I have
forever a radiant dawn and a morning draught.
وَيحَwoe to العَوذِلِthe reproachers هَلdoes يُغَشّيblind نورُهُhis light
وَيحَ العَوذِلِ هَل يُغَشّي نورُهُ
أَبصارَهُمtheir eyes أَمor كَيفَhow يَخفىis hidden يوحُYuh, the sun
أَبصارَهُم أَم كَيفَ يَخفى يوحُ
Woe to the reproachers! Does his light blind
their eyes? Or how could Yuh, the sun, be hidden?
لامواthey reproached وَقَدthough already نَظَرواthey saw مَلاحَةَthe beauty of وَجهِهِhis face
لاموا وَقَد نَظَروا مَلاحَةَ وَجهِهِ
وَاللَومُand reproach فيconcerning الوَجهِthe face المَليحِlovely قَبيحُugly
وَاللَومُ في الوَجهِ المَليحِ قَبيحُ
They reproached me, though they had seen his face's beauty;
yet reproach over a lovely face is ugly.
شَرِبتُI drank مِنfrom دِنانِهِمtheir wine jars
شَرِبتُ مِن دِنانِهِم
مِنfrom كُلِّevery دِنٍّwine jar قَدَحاa cupful
مِن كُلِّ دِنٍّ قَدَحا
I drank from their wine jars,
from every jar, a cup.
Sol 6.1