كَتَبتُ إِلَيكِ مِن بِلَدي

كِتابَ مُوَلَّهٍ كَمِدِ

I wrote to you from my country

A letter, folded and rolled

كَئيبٍ واكِفِ العَينَي

نِ بِالحَسَراتِ مُنفَرِدِ

Sorrowful, with downcast eyes

Alone with my regrets

يُؤَرِّقُهُ لَهيبُ الشَو

قِ بَينَ السَحرِ وَالكَبِدِ

Kept awake by passion’s flame

Between the dark and dawn

فَيُمسِكُ قَلبُهُ بَيَدٍ

وَيَمسَحُ عَينَهُ بِيَدِ

His heart held in his hand

His eyes wiped by his hand