بَكىwept ليfor me حاسِديmy envier مَيناًfalsely وَأدريand I know
بَكى لي حاسِدي مَيناً وَأدري
بِضِحكِof the laughter فُؤادِهِhis heart بَينَbetween الضُلوعِthe ribs
بِضِحكِ فُؤادِهِ بَينَ الضُلوعِ
My envier wept for me falsely, and I know
My envious rival shed crocodile tears for me
of his heart's laughter between his ribs.
While in his breast his heart was filled with glee
وَأَكذَبُand most false ماthat يَكونُis الحُزنُsorrow يَوماًever
وَأَكذَبُ ما يَكونُ الحُزنُ يَوماً
إِذاwhen كانَis البُكاءُweeping بِلاwithout دُموعِtears
إِذا كانَ البُكاءُ بِلا دُموعِ
And sorrow is never more false
How false are sorrows that do not draw
than when weeping is without tears.
The welling tears grief's swelling founts outpour
Sol 6.1