سَلْ حَمَامَ الأَيْكِ عَنِّي

سَلْ حَمَامَ الأَيْكِ عَنِّي

إِنَّهُ أَدْرَى بِحُزْنِي

إِنَّهُ أَدْرَى بِحُزْنِي

Ask the dove of the grove about me;

Ask the dove about my sorrow

indeed, it knows my sorrow best.

For he knows best my grief

نَحْنُ فِي الْحُبِّ سَوَاءٌ

نَحْنُ فِي الْحُبِّ سَوَاءٌ

كُلُّنَا يَبْكِي لِغُصْنِ

كُلُّنَا يَبْكِي لِغُصْنِ

We are alike in love;

We are alike in love

each of us weeps for a bough.

Each weeping for a branch

غَيْرَ أَنَّ الْوَجْدَ مِنْهُ

غَيْرَ أَنَّ الْوَجْدَ مِنْهُ

لَيْسَ مِثْلَ الْوَجْدِ مِنِّي

لَيْسَ مِثْلَ الْوَجْدِ مِنِّي

Yet its longing

Except my torment is not

is not like my longing.

Like his torment for me

أَنَا أَبْكِي مِنْ غَرَامِي

أَنَا أَبْكِي مِنْ غَرَامِي

وَهْو فِي الْغُصْنِ يُغَنِّي

وَهْو فِي الْغُصْنِ يُغَنِّي

I weep from my passion,

I weep from passion

while it sings on the bough.

While he sings on the branch

وَهْوَ بِالدَّمْعِ بَخِيلٌ

وَهْوَ بِالدَّمْعِ بَخِيلٌ

وَدُمُوعِي مِلْءُ عَيْنِي

وَدُمُوعِي مِلْءُ عَيْنِي

And it is sparing with tears,

He is stingy with tears

while my tears fill my eye.

While mine fill my eyes

لَسْتَ فِي الصَّبْوَةِ مِثْلِي

لَسْتَ فِي الصَّبْوَةِ مِثْلِي

فَانْصَرِفْ يَا طَيْرُ عَنِّي

فَانْصَرِفْ يَا طَيْرُ عَنِّي

You are not like me in ardent love;

You are not like me in youth

so turn away from me, O bird.

So turn away, o bird, from me