بِأَبيwith my father as ransom قَوامكyour figure وَالدّلالُand coquetry يُميلُهُmakes it sway
بِأَبي قَوامك وَالدّلالُ يُميلُهُ
وَبِهِand to it القُلوبُthe hearts مِنَfrom الهَوىlove تَتَمَسّكُcling
وَبِهِ القُلوبُ مِنَ الهَوى تَتَمَسّكُ
May my father be a ransom for your figure; coquetry makes it sway.
By your beauty swaying, desire leans towards it,
And hearts cling to it out of love.
And by it hearts cling to passionate love.
إِنّindeed الغُصونَthe branches لَهاfor them الهواءُthe air مُحرِّكٌa moving force
إِنّ الغُصونَ لَها الهواءُ مُحرِّكٌ
وَهَوىand love قَوامِكyour figure لِلقُلوبِfor the hearts مُحرّكُa moving force
وَهَوى قَوامِك لِلقُلوبِ مُحرّكُ
Indeed, the air sets the branches in motion,
For the branches, the air sets them in motion,
And love for your figure sets hearts in motion.
And the desire for your posture sets hearts in motion.
Sol 6.1