مَنْ لِي بِأَحْوَرِ فَاتِرِ الأَحْدَاقِ

قَدْ صِرْتُ عَبْدَ جَمَالِهِ الرَّقْرَاقِ

Who can I turn to, to heal my ache,

Who will bring me the one with wide, languid eyes,

For the languid-eyed beauty I'm dying to take,

I have become a slave to his shimmering beauty.

ظَبْيٌ تَمَلَّكَنِي بِسِحْرِ لِحَاظِهِ

لاَ عَنْ مُبَايَعَةٍِ وَلاَ اسْتِحْقَاقِ

A gazelle has enthralled me, his charm a fine stake,

A gazelle who possessed me with the magic of his glances,

Neither a pledge nor rights did our bond ever make.

Neither by a transaction nor by rightful claim.

بَدْرٌ مَطَالِعُهُ قُلُوبُ ذَوِي الْهَوَى

رِئْمٌ ثَوَى بِأَضَالِعِ الْعُشَّاقِ

A moon with the hearts of the lovelorn at wake,

A full moon whose rising places are the hearts of the enamored,

A fawn who for yearning lovers will break,

A white fawn who has settled within the ribs of lovers.

هَامَتْ بِهِ زُمَرُ الأَنَامِ فَمَا لِمَنْ

أَصْمَتْهُ أَسْهُمُ لَحْظِهِ مِنْ رَاقِ

For him did people in clusters partake,

Crowds of mankind have grown infatuated with him, so there is no healer

Yet his gaze's arrows all reason forsake.

For the one fatally struck by the arrows of his glance.

كَتَبَتْ بَنَاتُ الْحُسْنِ فيِ وَجَنَاتِهِ

وَارَحْمَةٌ لِلْعَاشِقِ الْمُشْتَاقِ

The fairest maids wrote of him, for his sake

The daughters of beauty have inscribed upon his cheeks:

A mercy indeed for the lover, the ache,

Oh, have pity on the yearning lover!

قُمْ فَاسْقِنِي صِرْفَ الْمُدَامِ وَغَنِّنِي

وَاصْدَحْ بِذِكْرِ جَمَالِهِ يَا سَاقِ

Rise, and pour me some wine, make my heartache quake,

Rise, pour me the pure wine, and sing to me,

Sing his beauty aloud, don't make my soul shake

And sing aloud of his beauty, O cupbearer!

وَأَعِدْ عَلَى سَمْعِي سَلِمْتَ مِنَ الضَّنىَ

مَنْ لِي بِأَحْوَرَ فَاتِرِ الأَحْدَاقِ

Whisper again in my ear, you were spared heartbreak,

And repeat to my hearing, may you be spared from affliction:

Who can I turn to, to heal my ache.

Who will bring me the one with wide, languid eyes?