يا مَنَ لصب والِهِ

قَد ذابَ مشن بلبالِهِ

O you whose passion enslaves me,

Whose beauty melts my heart,

وَلع السِقام بِهِ وَلو

ع عَذولهِ بِجدالِهِ

Whose illness makes me sick, though

I struggle against his rebellion.

وَمَمنع سَلب العُقو

ل مِن الوَرى بِجَمالِهِ

His beauty almost prevents

Me from seeing his perfection.

قَد كادَ أَن يَحكيهِ بَد

ر التمّ عِندَ كَمالِهِ

Justice never occurs to me,

Nor does affection come to mind.

لا يَخُطر الإِنصاف قَط

وَلا الحُنوّ بِبالِهِ

Lost in confusion,

Never free from his name and union.

مُتَطير مِن تَيهِهِ

أَبَداً مِن اسم وِصالِهِ

I long for his imaginary images,

And for the star of his unavailability.

نَهوى طُروق خَيالِهِ

وَالنجم دونَ مَنالِهِ

His imaginary images almost

Prevent me from reaching out to them.

وَيَكاد يَمنَع أَن يلمَّ

بِنا خَيال خَيالِهِ

O Lord, his eyes have cut

My heart with their sharp blades.

يا رَب قطع طَرفَهُ

قَلبي بِحَد نِصالِهِ

And increased the darkness

With their most dark moles.

وَنَفى السَداد وَزادَ في

سَواديَ أَسود خالِهِ

Why torture the ardent lover

With his aloofness and indifference?

أَمعذب الصَب العَليل

بِصَدِهِ وَمَلالِهِ

If you wanted blessings for the enamored worshipper,

Hurry, for death to him is better than his state.

إِن كُنتَ تَرغَب في المَني

ية لِلمُحب الوالهِ

If he could buy dreams,

He would, with all his money.

عَجل بِها فَالمَوت هَو

نٌ عِندَهُ مِن حالِهِ

So perhaps the lover would find peace

In his death and disappearance.

لَو كانَ يَبتاعُ الحا

م لَهُ شَراهُ بِمالِهِ

فَلَرُبَما اِرتاحَ المُحب

بِمَوتِهِ وَزَوالِهِ