بأبي الذي كتبت يداه تحيتي

بأبي الذي كتبت يداه تحيتي

وكسا الكلامَ بنعسةِ الأجفانِ

وكسا الكلامَ بنعسةِ الأجفانِ

May my father be ransom for him whose hands wrote me a greeting,

By my father who wrote with his hands I send my greetings

and who clothed the words in the drowsiness of eyelids.

And clothed speech with the drowsiness of eyelids

وأرى محاسنهُ على ألفاظهِ

وأرى محاسنهُ على ألفاظهِ

ودموع عينيهِ على العنوانِ

ودموع عينيهِ على العنوانِ

And I see his charms upon his words,

And I see his virtues on his words

and the tears of his eyes upon the address.

And the tears of his eyes on the title

وكأنما كانَ اللسانُ يراعَهُ

وكأنما كانَ اللسانُ يراعَهُ

ومدادُه من مهجةِ الولهانِ

ومدادُه من مهجةِ الولهانِ

And it is as though his tongue had been his reed pen,

As if his tongue was keeping watch over it

and its ink had come from the heart's blood of one mad with love.

And his ink was from the inner depths of passion

فكتابهُ عندي وكتْبي عندهُ

فكتابهُ عندي وكتْبي عندهُ

غنجُ الحبيبِ وآهةُ الثكلانِ

غنجُ الحبيبِ وآهةُ الثكلانِ

So his letter to me and my writing to him are

So his book is with me and my poems are with him

the beloved's coquetry and the bereaved one's sigh.

The cooing of the beloved and the sigh of bereavement