منْwho لِعَانٍfor a captive هوَاكِlove for you يصْرَعُهُstrikes him down
منْ لِعَانٍ هوَاكِ يصْرَعُهُ
حِينَwhen يَغْشاهُoverwhelms him مِنْكِfrom you مَاwhat يَغْشىoverwhelms
حِينَ يَغْشاهُ مِنْكِ مَا يَغْشى
Who will aid a captive whom love for you strikes down,
When what comes from you overwhelms him?
رابِطِsteadfast الجَأْشِthe heart فِيin الْخطُوبِadversities فإِنْyet if
رابِطِ الجَأْشِ فِي الْخطُوبِ فإِنْ
تَعْرِضيِyou appear ليْسَhe is not رَابِطاًsteadfast جَأْشاin heart
تَعْرِضيِ ليْسَ رَابِطاً جَأْشا
Steadfast of heart amid calamities—yet if
You appear, his heart is steadfast no more.
يَاO مَهَاةًan oryx فِيin الْعَيْنِthe eye أَنْشَأَهاcreated her
يَا مَهَاةً فِي الْعَيْنِ أَنْشَأَها
بَهْجَةًa delight لِلْعُيُونِfor the eyes مَنْthe one who أَنْشَاcreated
بَهْجَةً لِلْعُيُونِ مَنْ أَنْشَا
O oryx to the eye, fashioned
As a delight for eyes by the one who fashioned her.
إِنَّindeed بِيwithin me لوْعةًanguish مبَرِّحَةًexcruciating
إِنَّ بِي لوْعةً مبَرِّحَةً
سِرُّهَاits secret ماas long as حَيِيْتُI live لنْwill not يُفْشىbe divulged
سِرُّهَا ما حَيِيْتُ لنْ يُفْشى
Indeed, an excruciating anguish is within me;
Its secret, while I live, will not be divulged,
غَيْرَexcept for دَمْعٍtears إِذاwhen جَرىflows فَنَحَاthen turns
غَيْرَ دَمْعٍ إِذا جَرى فَنَحَا
نحْوَtoward قلْبِيmy heart حَسِسْتُهُI felt it نَشَّاsizzled
نحْوَ قلْبِي حَسِسْتُهُ نَشَّا
Save through tears that, when they flow and turn
Toward my heart, I feel them sizzle.
قُبْلةٌa kiss مِنْكِfrom you مُنْتهىthe utmost أَمَلِيmy hope
قُبْلةٌ مِنْكِ مُنْتهى أَمَلِي
لاno ومنْby Him whom كُلّevery عَابِدٍworshipper يَخْشىfears
لا ومنْ كُلّ عَابِدٍ يَخْشى
A kiss from you is my utmost hope.
No! By Him whom every worshipper fears,
مِئَةٌa hundred بَلْrather قَلِيلَةٌtoo few مِئَةٌa hundred
مِئَةٌ بَلْ قَلِيلَةٌ مِئَةٌ
كرِهَabhors اللّهُGod قائِلاًone speaking غِشَّاdeceitfully
كرِهَ اللّهُ قائِلاً غِشَّا
A hundred—no, a hundred are too few!
God abhors one who speaks deceitfully.
أَلفُa thousand أَلْفٍthousand وَلَسْتُand I do not أَحْسَبُهَاthink them
أَلفُ أَلْفٍ وَلَسْتُ أَحْسَبُهَا
آخِرَat the end of الدَّهْرِtime تُبْرِدُcool الأَحْشَاthe inward parts
آخِرَ الدَّهْرِ تُبْرِدُ الأَحْشَا
A thousand thousand—and I do not think they
Would cool my inward parts, even at time's end.
إِنْif يَقولُواthey say فُحشٌobscenity فَلَسْتyet I do not أَرَىsee
إِنْ يَقولُوا فُحشٌ فَلَسْت أَرَى
أَنَّthat فِيin صَادِقِsincere الْهَوَىlove فحْشاobscenity
أَنَّ فِي صَادِقِ الْهَوَى فحْشا
If they say, 'Obscenity!' I do not see
Any obscenity in sincere love.
لَمْdid not أَنمْsleep لَيْلتِيmy night ولَمْand did not أَرَfind لِيfor myself
لَمْ أَنمْ لَيْلتِي ولَمْ أَرَ لِي
راحَةًrest أَوْunless أُفَارِقَI leave الْفَرْشَاthe bed
راحَةً أَوْ أُفَارِقَ الْفَرْشَا
I did not sleep that night, nor did I find
Any rest unless I left my bed.
فَالْتَمَسْتُso I sought الْخَلاَءَopen country أَخْبِطُI stumble فِيthrough
فَالْتَمَسْتُ الْخَلاَءَ أَخْبِطُ فِي
سُحْرةٍa predawn hour عَادَbecame طَيْرُهَاits birds أَعْشَىdim-sighted
سُحْرةٍ عَادَ طَيْرُهَا أَعْشَى
So I sought open country, stumbling through
A predawn hour whose birds had grown dim-sighted,
إِذْwhen أَرَّقَkept awake الدُّجَىdarkness عُبُوسَتَهُits frown
إِذْ أَرَّقَ الدُّجَى عُبُوسَتَهُ
وإِذِand when الفجرُdawn هَمَّwas about to أَوْor بَشَّاsmiled
وإِذِ الفجرُ هَمَّ أَوْ بَشَّا
When darkness kept its frown awake,
And when dawn was about to smile—or smiled.
أَبْتَغِيI seek وَحْشَةَsolitude الأَنِيسِthe companion وَمَاand not
أَبْتَغِي وَحْشَةَ الأَنِيسِ وَمَا
أُنْكِرُI reject الْقَفْرَthe wilderness آنَسَcomforted الْوَحْشَاthe wild beasts
أُنْكِرُ الْقَفْرَ آنَسَ الْوَحْشَا
Seeking solitude away from company; nor do I
Reject the wilderness that comforted wild beasts,
مُمْعِناًpressing onward فِيin الْفَرَارِflight مِنْfrom أَلَمٍpain
مُمْعِناً فِي الْفَرَارِ مِنْ أَلَمٍ
مُسْتَبِيحٍravaging جَوَانِحِيmy ribs نَهْشاby gnawing
مُسْتَبِيحٍ جَوَانِحِي نَهْشا
Pressing on in flight from a pain
That ravaged my ribs with its gnawing.
فَإِذاand suddenly روْضةٌa garden تَكَشَّفُunveils لِيto me
فَإِذا روْضةٌ تَكَشَّفُ لِي
عَنْof مُحيّاًa face إِلَيَّtoward me قَدalready هَشَّاsmiled in welcome
عَنْ مُحيّاً إِلَيَّ قَد هَشَّا
And suddenly a garden unveiled to me
A face that smiled toward me in welcome.
هبَّstirred غِرِّيدُهَاits songbirds يَجُولُroams بِهَاthrough it
هبَّ غِرِّيدُهَا يَجُولُ بِهَا
دَائِبَtireless in السَّعْيwork بَانِياًbuilding عُشَّاa nest
دَائِبَ السَّعْي بَانِياً عُشَّا
Its songbirds stirred, flitting through it,
Tirelessly at work, each building a nest.
مِنْهُamong them فِيin الأَيكِthe grove نَاظِمٌa verse-maker لَبِقٌdeft
مِنْهُ فِي الأَيكِ نَاظِمٌ لَبِقٌ
كرَّresumed شدْواًsinging وَسَاجِعٌand a rhymester أَنْشَاbegan
كرَّ شدْواً وَسَاجِعٌ أَنْشَا
Among them in the grove, a deft verse-maker
Resumed its song, and a rhymester began.
سَرْحُهَاits trees قدْhad زَكَاflourished وَسُنْدُسُهَاand its fine silk
سَرْحُهَا قدْ زَكَا وَسُنْدُسُهَا
أَبْدَعَwrought exquisitely الْوَشْيَthe embroidery فِيهupon it منْthe one who وَشَّىembroidered
أَبْدَعَ الْوَشْيَ فِيه منْ وَشَّى
Its trees had flourished, and upon its fine silk
The embroiderer had wrought exquisite patterns.
بَرَعَتْexcelled تحْلِيَاتُهَاits adornments صُوَراًin form
بَرَعَتْ تحْلِيَاتُهَا صُوَراً
وَزَهَتْand shone تَحْشِيَاتُهَاits borders نَقْشَاwith designs
وَزَهَتْ تَحْشِيَاتُهَا نَقْشَا
Its adornments were exquisite in form,
And its borders glowed with designs.
رَوْضَةٌa garden زُرْتهَاI visited it وَفِيَّand within me جَوىًburning anguish
رَوْضَةٌ زُرْتهَا وَفِيَّ جَوىً
كاللَّظَىlike flame فِيin الْهَشِيمِdry brush أَوْor أَمْشَىquicker to spread
كاللَّظَى فِي الْهَشِيمِ أَوْ أَمْشَى
A garden I visited, with anguish within me
Like flame in dry brush—or quicker to spread.
خِلْتُI thought فِيهَاin it لِيَfor me الشفَاءَhealing فمَاbut not
خِلْتُ فِيهَا لِيَ الشفَاءَ فمَا
عُدْتُI returned إِلاَّexcept وَالدَّاءُand the sickness بِيwithin me أَفْشىmore widespread
عُدْتُ إِلاَّ وَالدَّاءُ بِي أَفْشى
I thought there was healing for me there, but
I returned only with sickness spread further through me.
كَيفَhow حَالِيmy state وَفِيand in دَمِيmy blood لهَبa flame
كَيفَ حَالِي وَفِي دَمِي لهَب
إِذْwhen أَرَىI see نَبْتَهَاits plants وَقَدْand already رُشَّاwas sprinkled
إِذْ أَرَى نَبْتَهَا وَقَدْ رُشَّا
How do I fare, with a flame in my blood,
When I see its plants already sprinkled with water?
فَبِعَيْنِيso in my eye حَديقَةٌa garden روِيَتْwas watered
فَبِعَيْنِي حَديقَةٌ روِيَتْ
وَبِقَلْبِيand in my heart حشاشَةٌa remnant of life عَطْشىthirsty
وَبِقَلْبِي حشاشَةٌ عَطْشى
So in my eye is a well-watered garden,
And in my heart, a thirsty remnant of life.
Sol 6.1