لعلَّك باكِ ان تَغنت حمامَة

لعلَّك باكِ ان تَغنت حمامَة

يَميد بِها غُصن من الريحِ مائِل

يَميد بِها غُصن من الريحِ مائِل

Perhaps you will weep if a dove sings—

Perhaps you cried when a dove sang

A branch, bent by the wind, sways with her—

As a branch swayed in the breeze

من الوَرق يَدعوها إِلى شُجوها الضحى

من الوَرق يَدعوها إِلى شُجوها الضحى

فَتَبكي وَتَبكي حينَ تَدنو الاِصائِل

فَتَبكي وَتَبكي حينَ تَدنو الاِصائِل

One of the gray doves; the forenoon calls her to her sorrow,

Leaves called her to her morning sorrow

So she weeps, and weeps when late afternoons draw near.

So she wept, and wept as night drew near