هاجَ الفُؤادَ ظَعائِنٌ

هاجَ الفُؤادَ ظَعائِنٌ

بِالجَزعِ مِن أَعلى الحَجونِ

بِالجَزعِ مِن أَعلى الحَجونِ

Women in traveling litters stirred my heart,

The heart was stirred by yearning

at the valley bend of upper al-Hajun.

With intense grief from on high

يُحدى بِهِنَّ وَفي الظَعا

يُحدى بِهِنَّ وَفي الظَعا

ئنِ رَبرَبٌ حورُ العُيونِ

ئنِ رَبرَبٌ حورُ العُيونِ

They are urged onward with song; among the traveling

It is challenged by yearnings, and in yearnings murmurs the maid of languid eyes

women is a herd of gazelles with wide, dark eyes.

In them is the fascination of smooth cheeks and clear brow

فيهِنَّ طاوِيَةُ الحَشا

فيهِنَّ طاوِيَةُ الحَشا

جَيداءُ واضِحَةُ الجَبينِ

جَيداءُ واضِحَةُ الجَبينِ

Among them is one slender of waist,

White, bright whiteness

long-necked, with a radiant brow,

Like the lustrous pearl shell

بَيضاءُ ناصِعَةُ البَياضِ

بَيضاءُ ناصِعَةُ البَياضِ

كَدُرَّةِ الصَدَفِ الكَنينِ

كَدُرَّةِ الصَدَفِ الكَنينِ

fair-skinned, of purest whiteness,

Of high rank and house of glory, in lineage and faith

like a pearl in a sheltered shell.

Indeed, to kill is to be killed

في المَنصِبِ العالي وَبَي

في المَنصِبِ العالي وَبَي

تِ المَجدِ في حَسَبٍ وَدينِ

تِ المَجدِ في حَسَبٍ وَدينِ

Of lofty rank, and of a house

By love, for the captive heart

of glory, in lineage and faith.

Love of the slain has settled her

إِنَّ القَتولَ تَقَتَّلَت

إِنَّ القَتولَ تَقَتَّلَت

بِالدَلِّ لِلقَلبِ الرَهينِ

بِالدَلِّ لِلقَلبِ الرَهينِ

Indeed, al-Qatul has played the coquette,

In the heart, in the place of one who abides

with coy allure, for the captive heart.

So if the doves' leaves once

حُبُّ القَتولِ أَحَلَّها

حُبُّ القَتولِ أَحَلَّها

في القَلبِ مَنزِلَةَ المَكينِ

في القَلبِ مَنزِلَةَ المَكينِ

Love for al-Qatul has lodged her

Rustled on the branches

in the heart, in a place secure.

It reminded me of what I’d forgotten

فَإِذا تَجاوَبَ مَرَّةً

فَإِذا تَجاوَبَ مَرَّةً

وُرقُ الحَمامِ عَلى الغُصونِ

وُرقُ الحَمامِ عَلى الغُصونِ

So when once they answer one another—

Of youthfulness after a while

the gray doves upon the branches—

Indeed, the sorrowful is roused

ذَكَّرنَني ما قَد نَسي

ذَكَّرنَني ما قَد نَسي

تُ مِنَ الصَبابَةِ بَعدَ حينِ

تُ مِنَ الصَبابَةِ بَعدَ حينِ

they remind me of what I had forgotten

After numbness, by the weeping of the sorrowful

of passionate longing, after a time.

The length of time hasn't made me forget

إِنَّ الحَزينَ يَهيجُهُ

إِنَّ الحَزينَ يَهيجُهُ

بَعدَ الذُهولِ بُكا الحَزينِ

بَعدَ الذُهولِ بُكا الحَزينِ

Indeed, the sorrowful one is stirred,

And what years may pass

after forgetfulness, by a sorrowful one's weeping.

Love of the slain, and she remains still

لَم يُنسِني طولُ الزَما

لَم يُنسِني طولُ الزَما

نِ وَما يَمُرُّ مِنَ السِنينِ

نِ وَما يَمُرُّ مِنَ السِنينِ

Time's long span has not made me forget,

A passion for us, after death

nor the years that pass,

حُبَّ القَتولِ وَلا تَزالُ

حُبَّ القَتولِ وَلا تَزالُ

هَوىً لَنا أُخرى المَنونِ

هَوىً لَنا أُخرى المَنونِ

my love for al-Qatul; she will remain

our beloved to the very end of time.