أَيكيَّةَO woodland bird رَوضَةِthe garden of الحِمىthe sanctuary دُمتِmay you remain كَذاthus
أَيكيَّةَ رَوضَةِ الحِمى دُمتِ كَذا
فيin شدوكِyour singing تَنفينَyou banish عَنfrom القَلبِthe heart أَذىhurt
في شدوكِ تَنفينَ عَن القَلبِ أَذى
O woodland bird of the sanctuary’s garden, may you remain thus.
O garden of passion, may you ever remain thus,
In your singing, you banish hurt from the heart.
for your nightingale's song drives sorrow from the heart.
ذاthis رَوضُكyour garden قَدindeed خامرهpermeated it عرفُthe scent of شَذاsweet fragrance
ذا رَوضُك قَد خامره عرفُ شَذا
لاmay no نابَbefall صَفاءَthe clarity of مَشرَعthe watering place of العَيشlife قَذىa mote
لا نابَ صَفاءَ مَشرَع العَيش قَذى
This garden of yours has been suffused with sweet fragrance.
When the fragrance of your meadows wafts by,
May no mote mar the clarity of life’s watering place.
gone is the dust that soils life's open casement.
Sol 6.1