حَيِّgreet مَغْنَىthe dwelling of الْهَوَىlove بِوَادِيin the valley of الشَّآمِal-Sham
حَيِّ مَغْنَى الْهَوَى بِوَادِي الشَّآمِ
وَادْعُand call بِاسْمِيin my name تُجِبْكَwill answer you وُرْقُgray الْحَمَامِthe doves
وَادْعُ بِاسْمِي تُجِبْكَ وُرْقُ الْحَمَامِ
Greet love's dwelling in the valley of al-Sham.
O harbinger of passion in the vale of Syria,
And call in my name; the gray doves will answer you.
Call upon my name, and the doves will answer you,
هُنَّthey يَعْرِفْنَنِيthey know me بِطُولِby the length of حَنِينِيmy yearning
هُنَّ يَعْرِفْنَنِي بِطُولِ حَنِينِي
بَيْنَamong تِلْكَthose السُّهُولِplains وَالآكَامِand hills
بَيْنَ تِلْكَ السُّهُولِ وَالآكَامِ
They know me by my long yearning
Among those plains and hills,
Among those plains and hills.
For often have they echoed my chant,
فَلَقَدْfor indeed طَالَمَاoften هَتَفْنَthey sang out بِشَدْوِيwith my song
فَلَقَدْ طَالَمَا هَتَفْنَ بِشَدْوِي
وَتَنَاقَلْنَand they passed around مَاwhat حَلاwas sweet مِنْof هُيَامِيmy passion
وَتَنَاقَلْنَ مَا حَلا مِنْ هُيَامِي
For so often they have sung out my song
And shared the madness born of my infatuation,
And passed among themselves the sweetness of my passion.
And many a time have I walked, sick with love,
وَلَكَمْand how often سِرْتُI wandered كَالنَّسِيمِlike the breeze عَلِيلاًlanguid
وَلَكَمْ سِرْتُ كَالنَّسِيمِ عَلِيلاً
أَتَقَرَّىI seek out مَلاعِبَplaying grounds of الآرَامِthe white gazelles
أَتَقَرَّى مَلاعِبَ الآرَامِ
And how often I wandered, languid as the breeze,
To visit the dwellings of the lovely maidens,
Seeking out the playgrounds of the white gazelles.
Clad in a cloak of sadness woven by the hands of love
فِيin شِعَارٍan inner garment مِنَof الضَّنَىwasting sickness نَسَجَتْهُwove it
فِي شِعَارٍ مِنَ الضَّنَى نَسَجَتْهُ
بِخُيُوطِwith threads of الدُّمُوعِtears أَيْدِيthe hands of الْغَرَامِpassion
بِخُيُوطِ الدُّمُوعِ أَيْدِي الْغَرَامِ
In a garment of wasting sickness, woven
With threads of tears.
By the hands of passion from threads of tears.
Whenever I catch a glimpse of lightning, I open my lips
كُلَّمَاwhenever شِمْتُI watched بَارِقاًa lightning flash خِلْتُI imagined ثَغْراًa mouth
كُلَّمَا شِمْتُ بَارِقاً خِلْتُ ثَغْراً
بَاسِماًsmiling مِنْfrom خِلالِamid تِلْكَthose الْخِيَامِtents
بَاسِماً مِنْ خِلالِ تِلْكَ الْخِيَامِ
Whenever I watched a lightning flash, I imagined a mouth
To breathe her beautiful name amid those tents.
Smiling from amid those tents.
Passion turns fiction into fact,
وَالْهَوَىand love يَجْعَلُmakes الْخِلاجَdoubt يَقِينَاًcertainty
وَالْهَوَى يَجْعَلُ الْخِلاجَ يَقِينَاً
وَيَغُرُّand beguiles الْحَلِيمَthe prudent person بِالأَوْهَامِwith illusions
وَيَغُرُّ الْحَلِيمَ بِالأَوْهَامِ
And love turns doubt into certainty
And fools the wise with delusions.
And beguiles the prudent with illusions.
My heart reflects fantasies,
خَطَرَاتُpassing thoughts لَهَاthey have بِمِرْآةِin the mirror of قَلْبِيmy heart
خَطَرَاتُ لَهَا بِمِرْآةِ قَلْبِي
صُوَرٌimages لاnot تَزُولُfade كَالأَحْلامِlike dreams
صُوَرٌ لا تَزُولُ كَالأَحْلامِ
Passing thoughts have, in my heart's mirror,
That do not fade like dreams.
Images that do not fade as dreams do.
Whenever my imagination stirs,
مَاnot تَجَلَّتْappeared عَلَىin الْمَخِيلَةِthe imagination إِلَّاexcept
مَا تَجَلَّتْ عَلَى الْمَخِيلَةِ إِلَّا
أَذْكَرَتْنِيreminded me مَاwhat كَانَwas مِنْof أَيَّامِيmy days
أَذْكَرَتْنِي مَا كَانَ مِنْ أَيَّامِي
Never did they appear in my imagination without
It reminds me of bygone days,
Reminding me of the days that once were mine.
That age has passed, but left behind
ذَاكَthat عَصْرٌan age خَلاpassed وَأَبْقَىand left حَدِيثاًa tale
ذَاكَ عَصْرٌ خَلا وَأَبْقَى حَدِيثاً
نَتَعَاطَاهُwe exchange it بَيْنَنَاamong ourselves كَالْمُدَامِlike wine
نَتَعَاطَاهُ بَيْنَنَا كَالْمُدَامِ
That was an age gone by, which left a tale
Conversations we used to share, as the wine circulates.
We pass among ourselves like wine.
Whenever my mind withdraws the veil of fantasy,
كُلَّمَاwhenever زَحْزَحَتْmoved aside بَنَانَةُthe fingertip of فِكْريَmy thought
كُلَّمَا زَحْزَحَتْ بَنَانَةُ فِكْريَ
عَنْهُfrom it سِتْرَthe veil of الْخَيَالِimagination لاحappeared أَمَامِيbefore me
عَنْهُ سِتْرَ الْخَيَالِ لاح أَمَامِي
Whenever the fingertip of my thought draws aside
The past appears before me.
The veil of fancy from it, it appears before me.
O breeze of the morn, I implore you, convey
يَاO نَسِيمَbreeze of الصَّبَاthe east wind فَدَيْتُكَmay I be your ransom بَلِّغْconvey
يَا نَسِيمَ الصَّبَا فَدَيْتُكَ بَلِّغْ
أَهْلَthe people of ذَاكَthat الْحِمَىsanctuary عَبِيرَthe fragrance of سَلامِيmy greeting
أَهْلَ ذَاكَ الْحِمَى عَبِيرَ سَلامِي
O east breeze, may I be your ransom—convey
To the people of that camp the scent of my greeting,
To the people of that sanctuary the fragrance of my greeting.
And visit them on my behalf, tell them of
وَاقْضِand fulfill عَنِّيon my behalf حَقَّthe duty of الزِّيَارَةِvisiting وَاذْكُرْand mention
وَاقْضِ عَنِّي حَقَّ الزِّيَارَةِ وَاذْكُرْ
فَرْطَthe excess of وَجْدِيmy longing بِهِمْfor them وَطُولَand the length of سَقَامِيmy sickness
فَرْطَ وَجْدِي بِهِمْ وَطُولَ سَقَامِي
And fulfill for me the duty of visiting, and mention
My abundant love for them and my lingering sickness.
My boundless longing for them and my long sickness.
I will be content if they remember me with affection
أَنَاI رَاضٍcontent مِنْهُمْfrom them بِذُكْرَةِwith a remembrance of وُدٍّaffection
أَنَا رَاضٍ مِنْهُمْ بِذُكْرَةِ وُدٍّ
أَوْor كِتَابٍa letter إِنْif لَمْnot أَفُزْI gain بِلِمَامِwith a brief visit
أَوْ كِتَابٍ إِنْ لَمْ أَفُزْ بِلِمَامِ
I am content with a fond remembrance from them,
Or send a letter, if I cannot meet them face to face.
Or a letter, if I gain no fleeting visit.
They have made passion the sanctuary of my heart,
هُمْthey أَبَاحُواopened up الْهَوَىlove حَرِيمَthe sanctuary of فُؤَادِيmy heart
هُمْ أَبَاحُوا الْهَوَى حَرِيمَ فُؤَادِي
وَأَذَلُّواand made submissive لِلْعَاذِلِينَto the reproachers خِطَامِيmy halter
وَأَذَلُّوا لِلْعَاذِلِينَ خِطَامِي
They opened my heart's sanctuary to love
And humbled my critics.
And made my halter pliant to the reproachers.
I miss them without meeting them,
أَتَمَنَّاهُمُI yearn for them وَدُونَand barring التَّلاقِيreunion
أَتَمَنَّاهُمُ وَدُونَ التَّلاقِي
قُذُفَاتٌvast reaches مِنْof لُجِّthe deep أَخْضَرَgreen طَامِيsurging
قُذُفَاتٌ مِنْ لُجِّ أَخْضَرَ طَامِي
I yearn for them, but barring our reunion lie
Like the spuming waves of the verdant sea surge towards me.
Vast reaches of a green, swelling deep.
The waves crash like stallions, leaping and frothing,
صَائِلُcharging in الْمَوْجِwaves كَالْفُحُولِlike camel bulls تَرَاغَىbellowing to one another
صَائِلُ الْمَوْجِ كَالْفُحُولِ تَرَاغَى
مِنْfrom هِيَاجٍfrenzy وَتَرْتَمِيand hurl at one another بِاللُّغَامِwith froth
مِنْ هِيَاجٍ وَتَرْتَمِي بِاللُّغَامِ
Its waves charge like camel bulls bellowing
And you can see the ships rising and falling like mountains,
In frenzy and hurling froth at one another.
Their banners and flags fluttering.
وَتَرَىand you see السُّفْنَthe ships كَالْجِبَالِlike mountains تَهَادَىsway gently
وَتَرَى السُّفْنَ كَالْجِبَالِ تَهَادَى
خَافِقَاتِfluttering الْبُنُودbanners وَالأَعْلامِand flags
خَافِقَاتِ الْبُنُود وَالأَعْلامِ
And you see the ships, like mountains, swaying,
Rising at times and dropping at others
Their banners and flags fluttering.
Into the void between prairie and marsh.
تَعْتَلِيrise تَارَةًone time وَتَهْبِطُand descend أُخْرَىanother
تَعْتَلِي تَارَةً وَتَهْبِطُ أُخْرَى
فِيin فَضَاءٍa space بَيْنَbetween السُّهَاSuha (a star) وَالرَّغَامِand dust
فِي فَضَاءٍ بَيْنَ السُّهَا وَالرَّغَامِ
Rising one moment and falling the next
They charge like wild beasts, but cannot be reined in.
In a space between Suha and the dust.
Each swing sways the people on them
هِيَthey كَالدُّهْمِlike black steeds جَامِحَاتٌrunning wild وَلَكِنْand yet
هِيَ كَالدُّهْمِ جَامِحَاتٌ وَلَكِنْ
لَيْسَnot يُثْنَىis checked جِمَاحُهَاtheir wild rush بِلِجَامِwith a bridle
لَيْسَ يُثْنَى جِمَاحُهَا بِلِجَامِ
They are like black steeds, running wild, yet
Bowing between standing and kneeling.
Their wild rush cannot be checked with a bridle.
They do not awaken from the dizzying whirl,
كُلُّevery أُرْجُوحَةٍa swing تَرَىyou see الْقَوْمَthe people فِيهَاin it
كُلُّ أُرْجُوحَةٍ تَرَى الْقَوْمَ فِيهَا
خُشَّعَاًhumbled بَيْنَamong رُكَّعٍthose bowing وَقِيَامِand those standing
خُشَّعَاً بَيْنَ رُكَّعٍ وَقِيَامِ
On each swing you see the people,
With hands clutching and breath coming fast.
Humbled, some bowing and others standing.
They cry for help, their hearts quaking,
لاnot يُفِيقُونَrecover مِنْfrom دُوَارٍdizziness فَهَاوٍso one falls
لا يُفِيقُونَ مِنْ دُوَارٍ فَهَاوٍ
لِيَدَيْهِonto his hands وَرَاعِفُand one bleeding from الأَنْفِthe nose دَامِيbloodied
لِيَدَيْهِ وَرَاعِفُ الأَنْفِ دَامِي
They cannot recover from dizziness: one falls
Fearing death, their eyes swimming,
Onto his hands, and another's nose runs with blood.
Praying fervently, praising
يَسْتَغِيثُونَthey cry for help فَالْقُلُوبُso the hearts هَوَافٍfluttering
يَسْتَغِيثُونَ فَالْقُلُوبُ هَوَافٍ
حَذَرَfor fear of الْمَوْتِdeath وَالْعُيُونُand the eyes سَوَامِيraised upward
حَذَرَ الْمَوْتِ وَالْعُيُونُ سَوَامِي
They cry for help; their hearts flutter
The Omnipotent, the All-Knowing.
For fear of death, and their eyes are raised high.
That is an ocean followed by an expanse of land
فِيin وِعَاءٍa vessel يَحْدُونَهُthey urge it onward بِدُعَاءٍwith prayer
فِي وِعَاءٍ يَحْدُونَهُ بِدُعَاءٍ
لِجَلالِto the majesty of الْمُهَيْمِنِthe Guardian الْعَلَّامِthe All-Knowing
لِجَلالِ الْمُهَيْمِنِ الْعَلَّامِ
In a vessel they urge onward with prayer
Where the ghosts of the past wander like ostriches.
To the majesty of the Guardian, the All-Knowing.
While my darkness is in Egypt, my heart
ذَاكَthat بَحْرٌa sea يَلِيهِfollows it بَرٌّland تَرَامَىstretches far
ذَاكَ بَحْرٌ يَلِيهِ بَرٌّ تَرَامَى
فِيهِin it خُوصُnarrow-eyed camels الْمَضِيِّonward travel مِثْلَlike النَّعَامِostriches
فِيهِ خُوصُ الْمَضِيِّ مِثْلَ النَّعَامِ
That is a sea, beyond it a far-stretching land,
Languishes in Syria in the fetters of passion.
Where narrow-eyed journeying camels move like ostriches.
I fool myself with wishes, though my soul refuses,
فَسَوَادِيso my body بِمِصْرَin Egypt ثَاوٍdwelling وَقَلْبِيand my heart
فَسَوَادِي بِمِصْرَ ثَاوٍ وَقَلْبِي
فِيin إِسَارِthe captivity of الْهَوَىlove بِأَرْضِin the land of الشَّآمِal-Sham
فِي إِسَارِ الْهَوَى بِأَرْضِ الشَّآمِ
So my body abides in Egypt, while my heart
And fooling oneself nourishes people.
Is in love's captivity in the land of al-Sham.
So when will time allow me to meet
أَخْدَعُI beguile النَّفْسَthe soul بِالْمُنَىwith hopes وَهْيَwhile it تَأْبَىrefuses
أَخْدَعُ النَّفْسَ بِالْمُنَى وَهْيَ تَأْبَى
وَخِدَاعُand the deception of الْمُنَىhopes غِذَاءُthe food of الأَنَامِhumankind
وَخِدَاعُ الْمُنَى غِذَاءُ الأَنَامِ
I beguile my soul with hopes, though it refuses,
What I have missed of my hopes?
And the deception of hopes is humankind's food.
It is a friendship whose intimacy is like light
فَمَتَىso when يَسْمَحُallows الزَّمَانُtime فَأَلْقَىso I may find
فَمَتَى يَسْمَحُ الزَّمَانُ فَأَلْقَى
بِشَكِيبٍin Shakib مَاwhat فَاتَنِيeluded me مِنْof مَرَامِdesired aims
بِشَكِيبٍ مَا فَاتَنِي مِنْ مَرَامِ
When, then, will time relent, that I may find
In the folds of a flowered cloak.
In Shakib the wishes that have eluded me?
A true friend never violates a pact,
هُوَhe خِلٌّa close friend لَبِسْتُI donned مِنْهُfrom him خِلالاًvirtues
هُوَ خِلٌّ لَبِسْتُ مِنْهُ خِلالاً
عَبِقَاتٍfragrant كَالنَّوْرِlike blossoms فِيin الأَكْمَامِthe flower-sheaths
عَبِقَاتٍ كَالنَّوْرِ فِي الأَكْمَامِ
He is a friend whose virtues I have donned,
But few among people rein in blame.
Fragrant as blossoms within their sheaths.
Righteousness joined us before we met,
صَادِقُtrue in الْوُدِّaffection لاnot يَخِيسُbreaks faith بِعَهْدٍwith a pledge
صَادِقُ الْوُدِّ لا يَخِيسُ بِعَهْدٍ
وَقَلِيلٌand rare فِيamong النَّاسِpeople رَعْيُobservance of الذِّمَامِbonds
وَقَلِيلٌ فِي النَّاسِ رَعْيُ الذِّمَامِ
True in affection, he never breaks a pledge,
With the breeze of spirits, not of bodies.
And rare among people is faithfulness to bonds.
Through affection we reached what was not attained
جَمَعَتْنَاunited us الآدَابُliterature قَبْلَbefore التَّلاقِيmeeting
جَمَعَتْنَا الآدَابُ قَبْلَ التَّلاقِي
بِنَسِيمِthrough the breeze of الأَرْوَاحِsouls لاnot الأَجْسَامِbodies
بِنَسِيمِ الأَرْوَاحِ لا الأَجْسَامِ
Literature united us before we met,
By a lifetime of kinship and family ties.
Through the breeze of souls, not bodies.
So even if we are not together on earth, we are joined
وَبَلَغْنَاand we attained بِالْوُدِّthrough affection مَاwhat لَمْnot يَنَلْهُattain it
وَبَلَغْنَا بِالْوُدِّ مَا لَمْ يَنَلْهُ
بِحَيَاةِthrough a lifetime of الْقُرْبَىkinship ذَوُوthose with الأَرْحَامِblood ties
بِحَيَاةِ الْقُرْبَى ذَوُو الأَرْحَامِ
And through affection we attained what was not attained
By the bond of passion and constancy of dwelling.
By blood relations through a lifetime of kinship.
The communion of souls is a truer commitment
فَلَئِنْfor even if لَمْnot نَكُنْwe are بِأَرْضٍin one land فَإِنَّاthen we are
فَلَئِنْ لَمْ نَكُنْ بِأَرْضٍ فَإِنَّا
لاِتِّصَالِthrough the bond of الْهَوَىlove بِدَارِin an abode of مُقامِresidence
لاِتِّصَالِ الْهَوَى بِدَارِ مُقامِ
For though we are not in one land, we are,
Than a meeting without permanence.
Through love's bond, in an abiding home.
An insightful mind whose intuition perceives
وَائْتِلافُand harmony of النُّفُوسِsouls أَصْدَقُtruer عَهْدَاًin its pledge
وَائْتِلافُ النُّفُوسِ أَصْدَقُ عَهْدَاً
مِنْthan لِقَاءٍa meeting لَمْnot يَقْتَرِنْis accompanied بِدَوَامِby constancy
مِنْ لِقَاءٍ لَمْ يَقْتَرِنْ بِدَوَامِ
And harmony of souls is truer in its pledge
The unseen through the thinnest veil.
Than a meeting unaccompanied by constancy.
And a poet whose compositions poured like
أَلْمَعِيٌّkeen-minded لَهُhe has بَدِيهَةُan intuition of رَأْيٍjudgment
أَلْمَعِيٌّ لَهُ بَدِيهَةُ رَأْيٍ
تُدْرِكُperceives الْغَيْبَthe unseen مِنْfrom وَرَاءِbehind لِثَامِa veil
تُدْرِكُ الْغَيْبَ مِنْ وَرَاءِ لِثَامِ
Keen-minded, he has an intuitive judgment
The breath of zephyrs after the rain.
That perceives the unseen from behind a veil.
His poetry shook me and awakened
وَقَرِيضٌand poetry كَمَاjust as وَشَتْrevealed نَسَمَاتٌbreezes
وَقَرِيضٌ كَمَا وَشَتْ نَسَمَاتٌ
بِضَمِيرِthe secret heart of الأَزْهَارِthe flowers إِثْرَafter الْغَمَامِthe rain-clouds
بِضَمِيرِ الأَزْهَارِ إِثْرَ الْغَمَامِ
And poetry like breezes that divulge
An idea that had only existed in my dreams.
The flowers' secrets in the wake of rain-clouds.
I named it "words after if" and it gushed forth
هَزَّنِيstirred me شِعْرُهُhis poetry فَأَيْقَظَand so awakened مِنِّيwithin me
هَزَّنِي شِعْرُهُ فَأَيْقَظَ مِنِّي
فِكْرَةًa thought كَانَwas حَظُّهَاits lot فِيin الْمَنَامِsleep
فِكْرَةً كَانَ حَظُّهَا فِي الْمَنَامِ
His poetry stirred me and awakened within me
With little that did not quench thirst.
A thought whose lot had been to slumber.
So accept from me what I could offer,
سُمْتُهَاI pressed it for الْقَوْلَspeech بَعْدَafter لأْيٍmuch toil فَبَضَّتْso it trickled
سُمْتُهَا الْقَوْلَ بَعْدَ لأْيٍ فَبَضَّتْ
بِيَسِيرٍwith a little لَمْnot يَرْوِwater عُودَa stalk of ثُمَامِthumam grass
بِيَسِيرٍ لَمْ يَرْوِ عُودَ ثُمَامِ
I pressed it to speak; after much toil it trickled
For much richness lies in less flamboyance.
A little, not enough to water a stalk of thumam grass.
Had I wanted to express my affection and longing,
فَارْضَso be content مِنِّيfrom me بِمَاwith what تَيَسَّرَwas obtainable مِنْهَاfrom it
فَارْضَ مِنِّي بِمَا تَيَسَّرَ مِنْهَا
رُبَّmany a ثَمْدٍscant pool فِيهِin it غِنىًsufficiency عَنْin place of جِمَامِabundant waters
رُبَّ ثَمْدٍ فِيهِ غِنىً عَنْ جِمَامِ
So accept from me whatever it could yield;
Language would not have sufficed.
Many a scant pool suffices in place of abundant waters.
I love you instinctively, not as something
وَلَوْand if أَنِّيthat I أَرَدْتُwished شَرْحَto explain وِدَادِيmy affection
وَلَوْ أَنِّي أَرَدْتُ شَرْحَ وِدَادِي
وَاشْتِيَاقِيand my longing لَضَاقَwould be too narrow وُسْعُthe breadth of الْكَلامِspeech
وَاشْتِيَاقِي لَضَاقَ وُسْعُ الْكَلامِ
And if I sought to explain my affection
That permits repeal or contraction.
And my longing, the breadth of speech would be too narrow.
When love is without motive,
أَنَاI أَهْوَاكَI love you فِطْرَةًby nature لَيْسَthere is not فِيهَاin it
أَنَا أَهْوَاكَ فِطْرَةً لَيْسَ فِيهَا
مِنْany مَسَاغٍroom لِلنَّقْضِfor undoing وَالإِبْرَامِand binding
مِنْ مَسَاغٍ لِلنَّقْضِ وَالإِبْرَامِ
I love you by nature; there is in it
Its foundations are firmer than pillars.
No room for undoing or binding.
So take my gratitude for your kindly affection,
وَإِذَاand when الْحُبُّlove لَمْnot يَكُنْis ذَاpossessed of دَوَاعٍmotives
وَإِذَا الْحُبُّ لَمْ يَكُنْ ذَا دَوَاعٍ
كَانَis أَرْسَىfirmer قَوَاعِداًin foundations مِنْthan شَمَامِShamam (a mountain)
كَانَ أَرْسَى قَوَاعِداً مِنْ شَمَامِ
And when love has no motives,
I am honored by this medal.
Its foundations are firmer than Shamam's.
I will proudly display it, while others
فَتَقَبَّلْso accept شُكْرِيmy thanks عَلَىfor حُسْنِthe beauty of وُدِّaffection
فَتَقَبَّلْ شُكْرِي عَلَى حُسْنِ وُدِّ
رُحْتُI became مِنْهُthrough it مُقَلَّدَاًadorned بِوِسَامِwith a medal
رُحْتُ مِنْهُ مُقَلَّدَاً بِوِسَامِ
So accept my thanks for your gracious affection,
Boast of the jewels they are given.
Through which I came to be adorned with a medal.
May you always enjoy the comforts that grace
أَتَبَاهَىI take pride بِهِin it إِذَاwhen كَانَis غَيْرِيsomeone other than me
أَتَبَاهَى بِهِ إِذَا كَانَ غَيْرِي
يَتَبَاهَىtakes pride بِزِينَةِin the finery of الإِنْعَامِbestowed favors
يَتَبَاهَى بِزِينَةِ الإِنْعَامِ
I take pride in it, while someone else
The topmost branch of your noble tree.
Takes pride in the finery of bestowed favors.
دُمْتَmay you remain فِيin نِعْمَةٍblessing تَرِفُّflutter حُلاهَاits ornaments
دُمْتَ فِي نِعْمَةٍ تَرِفُّ حُلاهَا
فَوْقَabove فَرْعٍa branch مِنْfrom طِيبِthe goodness of أَصْلِكَyour root نَامِيgrowing
فَوْقَ فَرْعٍ مِنْ طِيبِ أَصْلِكَ نَامِي
May you remain in blessing, its ornaments fluttering
Above a branch growing from the goodness of your root.
Partial English translation: 87 of 90 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1