أُحِبُّكِI love you أَصنافاًkinds مِنَof الحُبِّlove لَمdid not أَجِدI find
أُحِبُّكِ أَصنافاً مِنَ الحُبِّ لَم أَجِد
لَهاfor them مَثَلاًa likeness فيamong سائِرِthe rest of الناسِpeople يوصَفُis described
لَها مَثَلاً في سائِرِ الناسِ يوصَفُ
I love you with kinds of love—I have never found
I love you in ways of love I have not found
a likeness to them described among the rest of humankind.
Any parallel among people to describe
فَمِنهُنَّfor among them حُبٌّlove لِلحَبيبِfor the beloved وَرَحمَةٌand compassion
فَمِنهُنَّ حُبٌّ لِلحَبيبِ وَرَحمَةٌ
بِمَعرِفَتيthrough my knowledge مِنهُof him بِماof what يَتَكَلَّفُhe takes upon himself
بِمَعرِفَتي مِنهُ بِما يَتَكَلَّفُ
For among them are love for the beloved and compassion,
Some are love for the beloved and mercy
because I know what burdens he takes upon himself.
In knowing the burden he undertakes
وَمِنهُنَّand among them أَلّاthat ... not يَعرِضَbrings before الدَهرُtime ذُكرَهاthe memory of her
وَمِنهُنَّ أَلّا يَعرِضَ الدَهرُ ذُكرَها
عَلىto القَلبِthe heart إِلّاexcept that كادَتِnearly النَفسُthe soul تَتلَفُperishes
عَلى القَلبِ إِلّا كادَتِ النَفسُ تَتلَفُ
And among them is this: time never brings her memory
Some are that the days never evoke her
to my heart without my soul nearly perishing.
Unless my soul is nearly torn apart
وَحُبٌّand a love بَداappeared بِالجِسمِin the body وَاللَونِand complexion ظاهِرٌvisible
وَحُبٌّ بَدا بِالجِسمِ وَاللَونِ ظاهِرٌ
وَحُبٌّand a love لَدىwithin نَفسيmy soul مِنَthan الرَوحِthe breeze أَلطَفُsubtler
وَحُبٌّ لَدى نَفسي مِنَ الرَوحِ أَلطَفُ
And a love that has appeared, visible in body and complexion;
Some appeared in body and looks apparent
and a love within my soul, subtler than the breeze.
Some in my soul gentler than spirit
وَحُبٌّand a love هُوَit الداءُthe malady العَياءُincurable بِعَينِهِitself
وَحُبٌّ هُوَ الداءُ العَياءُ بِعَينِهِ
لَهُit has ذِكَرٌmemories تَعدوassail عَلَيَّupon me فَأَدنَفُso I fall gravely ill
لَهُ ذِكَرٌ تَعدو عَلَيَّ فَأَدنَفُ
And a love that is the incurable malady itself;
Some are the blindness, the illness itself
memories of it assail me, so I fall gravely ill.
Whose memory comes over me and I recoil
فَلاso not أَناI مِنهُfrom it مُستَريحٌat rest فَمَيِّتٌso dead
فَلا أَنا مِنهُ مُستَريحٌ فَمَيِّتٌ
وَلاnor هُواit عَلىthroughout ماthe time that قَدindeed حَيَيتُI have lived مُخَفَّفُlightened
وَلا هُوا عَلى ما قَد حَيَيتُ مُخَفَّفُ
So neither am I dead and at rest from it,
So I find no rest, as though dead
nor is it lightened for as long as I live.
Nor is it lessened while I live
Sol 6.1