بِاللَهِ رَبّكُما سَلاها
رِفقاً بِقَلبٍ ما سَلاها
By God, the Lord of you both, ask her
By the Lord your God I implore you
to be gentle with a heart that has not forgotten her.
Gently, for a heart I implore you
بِأَبي فَتاةٌ وَجهُها
لَم يُبقِ لِلقَمَرَينِ جاها
May my father be ransom for a maiden whose face
By my father, a girl whose face
has left the sun and moon no glory.
Left no glory for either moon
ما الغُصنُ إِلّا قَدُّها
ما الوَردُ إِلّا وَجنَتاها
The bough is nothing but her figure;
Nothing is the branch but her stature
the rose is nothing but her two cheeks.
Nothing is the rose but her cheeks
جَحَدَت دَمي ظُلماً وَلَ
كِن ناظِراها ناظَراها
She unjustly denied shedding my blood, but
She denied my blood unjustly but
her two eyes argued against her.
I kept looking at her, kept looking
لَو أَنَّها بَرَزَت لِقَر
نِ الشَمسِ أَخجَلَهُ سَناها
Were she to appear before the rim
Had she come out to compete with
of the sun, her radiance would put it to shame.
The sun, her brilliance would shame it
بَل لَو رَأى فاها عَذو
لي لَم يَكُن بِالعذلِ فاها
Nay, had my reproacher seen her mouth,
Rather, had her mouth seen my love
he would not have spoken in reproach.
It would not blame me with rejection
ما ظَبيَةٌ في رَوضَةٍ
بِالحَزنِ ناشِدَةً طَلاها
No gazelle in a meadow
No gazelle in a garden of sadness
on rugged ground, seeking her fawn,
Seeking her does she go in longing
ريعَت لِنَبأَةِ قانِصٍ
أَهوى إِلَيها وَاِنتَحاها
startled by the faint sound of a hunter
She galloped to a fine speaker
who rushed toward her and made for her,
She loved him and went out to meet him
يَوماً بِأَحسَنَ مَنظَراً
مِنها وَلا خشفٌ تَلاها
is ever lovelier to behold
One day, in her finest aspect
than she—nor a fawn that followed the gazelle.
With no veil or cover upon her
كَالجيدِ مِنها جيدُها
وَكَمُقلَتَيهِ مُقلَتاها
Her neck is like the gazelle's,
Like her neck, her neck in its grace
and her two eyes are like the fawn's.
Like her earrings, her earrings in place
ما شاقَ أَنفُسَنا إِلى
ذُلِّ الهَوانِ سِوى هَواها
Nothing enticed our souls toward
Nothing made us bow to the baseness
the abasement of humiliation but love for her.
Of shame except our love for her face
بَينا أَقولُ لِعَيشِنا
واهاً لَهُ إِذ قُلتُ آها
While I was saying of our life,
While I said of our life “Woe to it”
“How delightful it is!” I suddenly cried, “Alas!”
When I said “Alas” for her beauty
Sol 6.1