وَظَبي مِنَ الأَتراكِ قانَ مَحاسن

وَظَبي مِنَ الأَتراكِ قانَ مَحاسن

لَدَيهِ حَياتي إِنْ يُردْ وَمَماتي

لَدَيهِ حَياتي إِنْ يُردْ وَمَماتي

And a gazelle of the Turks, a khan of charms—

My gazelle from the Turks has exquisite beauty

In his keeping are my life, if he wills, and my death.

In his hands are my life if he wishes, and my death

فَبَين العُيونِ السودِ مَوتي أَحمَر

فَبَين العُيونِ السودِ مَوتي أَحمَر

وَبَينَ الشّفاهِ السّمرِ منهُ حَياتي

وَبَينَ الشّفاهِ السّمرِ منهُ حَياتي

So between the black eyes, my death is red;

So between the black eyes lies my red death

And from him, between the dusky lips, comes my life.

And between the brown lips, from him, is my life