هَلْis there? بَينَbetween أَضْلاَعِكِyour ribs مِنْany خَافقٍa beating heart
هَلْ بَينَ أَضْلاَعِكِ مِنْ خَافقٍ
تَحْتَbeneath الَّتيthe one that تَخْفُقُticks فيin الصَّدْرِthe breast
تَحْتَ الَّتي تَخْفُقُ في الصَّدْرِ
Is there a beating heart between your ribs,
beneath the one that ticks at your breast?
سَاعَةُa watch خَيْرٍgood fortune لَكِfor you آثرْتِهَاyou chose it
سَاعَةُ خَيْرٍ لَكِ آثرْتِهَا
سَوْدَاءَblack هَلْis there? فيin اللَّونِcolor منْany شَرِّevil
سَوْدَاءَ هَلْ في اللَّونِ منْ شَرِّ
A watch of good fortune for you—you chose it
black. Is there any evil in color?
مَاnot فَاتَهَاhas passed it by الحُسْنُbeauty وَأَوْقاتُهَاand its hours
مَا فَاتَهَا الحُسْنُ وَأَوْقاتُهَا
أَشْبَاهُlikenesses مَاwhat فيهَاwithin it منَof الدُّرُّthe pearls
أَشْبَاهُ مَا فيهَا منَ الدُّرُّ
Beauty has not passed it by, and its hours
are like the pearls it holds.
فيin اللَّيْلthe night يُسْتَنْبَتُis cultivated زَهْرُblossoms المُنَىhopes
في اللَّيْل يُسْتَنْبَتُ زَهْرُ المُنَى
وَتُجْتَلَىand are beheld البيضُthe white ones منَamong الزَّهْرِthe flowers
وَتُجْتَلَى البيضُ منَ الزَّهْرِ
At night the blossoms of hope are grown,
and the white ones among the flowers are beheld.
سَاعَتُكِyour hour البَيْضَاءُwhite لاَno سَاعَةًhour
سَاعَتُكِ البَيْضَاءُ لاَ سَاعَةً
سَوْدَاءَblack إِلاَّexcept سَاعَةُthe hour الْهَجْرِof parting
سَوْدَاءَ إِلاَّ سَاعَةُ الْهَجْرِ
Your hour is white; no hour is
black except the hour of parting.
Sol 6.1