كَمHow often أُضرِعُI humble دونَهاbefore her غَراماًout of love خَدّيmy cheek
كَم أُضرِعُ دونَها غَراماً خَدّي
كَمHow often يجبهُنيconfronts me حاجِبُهاher gatekeeper بِالرَدِّwith rejection
كَم يجبهُني حاجِبُها بِالرَدِّ
How often, out of love, I humble my cheek before her!
How often I plead passionately beneath her cheeks
How often her gatekeeper meets me with rejection!
How often her eyebrows pull me in with refusal
إِنIf كانَit is وَلاand no بُدَّescape لَهاfor her مِنfrom صَدّيrejecting me
إِن كانَ وَلا بُدَّ لَها مِن صَدّي
فَالمَوتُThen death وَذاand that أَروحmore restful ليfor me منthan كَدّيmy toil
فَالمَوتُ وَذا أَروح لي من كَدّي
If she must indeed turn me away,
If it was inevitable for her to reject me
Then death—and that is more restful for me than my toil.
Then death, oh how much lighter that would feel than my distress
Sol 6.1