ماhow أَعجَبَwondrous مَسحَthe wiping كَفِّthe hand of ذاتِthe woman bearing الرَّدعِdye stains
ما أَعجَبَ مَسحَ كَفِّ ذاتِ الرَّدعِ
عَينَيَّmy two eyes مِنَfrom البُكاءِweeping يَوَمthe day of الجِزعِthe valley bend
عَينَيَّ مِنَ البُكاءِ يَوَم الجِزعِ
How wondrous that the dye-stained woman's hand should wipe
How wonderful the touch of her restraining hand
My eyes free of tears that day at the valley bend!
Wiping my weeping eyes in time of grief
ماnot تمسحُshe wipes جَفنيmy eyelid وَهيَwhile she ليtoward me راحِمَةٌcompassionate
ما تمسحُ جَفني وَهيَ لي راحِمَةٌ
لكنbut خَضَبتَyou dyed بَنانَهاher fingertips مِنwith دمَعيmy tears
لكن خَضَبتَ بَنانَها مِن دمَعي
She does not wipe my eyelid out of compassion for me;
She wipes not my eyelids, though merciful to me
But you dyed her fingertips with my tears.
But with my tears her fingers she doth dye
Sol 6.1