وَيكِhark, you! اِنتَبِهيawaken ياO عَذباتtender boughs الرَندِthe laurel
وَيكِ اِنتَبِهي يا عَذبات الرَندِ
وافتكِhas reached you روَيحَةٌa little breeze أَتَتcame مِنfrom عِنديwhere I am
وافتكِ روَيحَةٌ أَتَت مِن عِندي
Hark! Awaken, O tender boughs of laurel.
Wake and take heed, O gentle maid,
A little breeze has reached you, coming from me.
A sweet-scented breeze blows my way,
نَبَّهتُكِI roused you بِالبَرقِwith lightning سرىtraveled by night عَنfrom حُرَقيmy burning pangs
نَبَّهتُكِ بِالبَرقِ سرى عَن حُرَقي
لَمdid not يَسرِtravel by night إِلَيكto you غَيرُother than واريblazing الزَندِthe firestick
لَم يَسرِ إِلَيك غَيرُ واري الزَندِ
I roused you with lightning that traveled by night from my burning anguish.
I roused you with lightning that flashed from my heart,
Nothing came to you by night but the firestick’s blaze.
None but my messenger reached you that day.
Sol 6.1