وَاِكبثديAlas, my liver! (uncertain reading) مِنfrom زَفَراتِdeep sighs الضَنىwasting illness
وَاِكبثدي مِن زَفَراتِ الضَنى
حُبَّlove لَهاfor her مِمّاfrom that which تَذوبُmelts الفَناannihilation
حُبَّ لَها مِمّا تَذوبُ الفَنا
Alas, my liver [uncertain reading], at the sighs of wasting illness!
My sighs proclaim a love which fadeth never,
Love for her, from which annihilation melts.
The torment of my grief naught may relieve;
لَمdid not يَضَعِplace اللَومُblame عَلىupon عاشِقٍa lover
لَم يَضَعِ اللَومُ عَلى عاشِقٍ
شَفرَتَهُits blade إِلّاexcept اِنتِحابيmy sobbing أَناI
شَفرَتَهُ إِلّا اِنتِحابي أَنا
Blame never laid upon a lover
No blame to lovers who have fled discretion,
its blade without my own sobbing.
For madness holds me fast, and I must grieve.
Sol 6.1