لَم أَدرِ وَقَد تَفَتَّحَ الأَزهارُ

لَم أَدرِ وَقَد تَفَتَّحَ الأَزهارُ

وَالرَوضُ مدبَّجُ الثرى معطارُ

وَالرَوضُ مدبَّجُ الثرى معطارُ

I could not tell, with the flowers in bloom,

I knew not, and already, blossoms had opened

And the meadow fragrant, its soil brocaded,

And the earth was embroidered, the garden fragrant

فَوق البُسُط الخضر سُيفوٌ سُلَّت

فَوق البُسُط الخضر سُيفوٌ سُلَّت

أَم أُجريَ في الحَدائق الأَنهارُ

أَم أُجريَ في الحَدائق الأَنهارُ

Whether swords had been drawn above the green carpets,

Above the green carpets, drawn swords or rolled out rivers

Or rivers had been made to flow in the gardens.

It was hard to tell, in those gardens