وَما شَجاني أَنَّني كُنتُ نائِماً

وَما شَجاني أَنَّني كُنتُ نائِماً

أُعَلَّلُ مِن فَرطِ الكَرى بِالتَنَسُّمِ

أُعَلَّلُ مِن فَرطِ الكَرى بِالتَنَسُّمِ

And what stirred my sorrow was that I lay asleep,

I rue not that slumber overcame me,

soothed, in deep drowsiness, by breathing the air,

As I sigh heavily with cares oppressing,

إِلى أَن بَكَت وَرقاءُ في غُصنِ أَيكَةٍ

إِلى أَن بَكَت وَرقاءُ في غُصنِ أَيكَةٍ

تُرَدِّدُ مَبكاها بِحُسنِ التَرَنُّمِ

تُرَدِّدُ مَبكاها بِحُسنِ التَرَنُّمِ

until a gray dove wept on a branch in a grove,

Until a dove wept on an aik bough,

repeating her lament in beautiful, melodious song.

Repeating her moans in sweet mournfulness.

فَلَو قَبِلَ مَبكاها بَكَيتُ صَبابَةً

فَلَو قَبِلَ مَبكاها بَكَيتُ صَبابَةً

بِلَيلى شَفَيتُ النَفسَ قَبلَ التَنَدُّمِ

بِلَيلى شَفَيتُ النَفسَ قَبلَ التَنَدُّمِ

So, had I wept in longing before her lament,

Had I heeded her moaning I had wept early,

for Layla, I would have soothed my soul before regret.

Ere too late, for Layla filling my soul with her love.

وَلَكِن بَكَت قَبلي فَهاجَ لي البُكا

وَلَكِن بَكَت قَبلي فَهاجَ لي البُكا

بُكاها فَقُلتُ الفَضل للمُتَقَدِّمِ

بُكاها فَقُلتُ الفَضل للمُتَقَدِّمِ

But she wept before me, and I was moved to tears

But she wept before I, so her weeping stirred mine;

by her weeping; so I said, "The credit goes to the one who came first."

Honor the first in the race! Precedence is hers!