بِنَفسِي بعيدُ الدّارِ بي مَن فِراقِهِ

بِنَفسِي بعيدُ الدّارِ بي مَن فِراقِهِ

جَوىً لو رآهُ البُعدُ رقَّ ليَ البُعدُ

جَوىً لو رآهُ البُعدُ رقَّ ليَ البُعدُ

My life for him who dwells afar! From parting with him I bear

Far from home is one whose absence grieves me,

An anguish that, were distance to see it, distance would pity me.

If distance could see my torment, it would pity me in my misery.

بِقلبِيَ من شوقٍ إِليهِ ولَوعَةٍ

بِقلبِيَ من شوقٍ إِليهِ ولَوعَةٍ

عليهِ غليلٌ ليسَ يُبرِدِهُ الوِرْدُ

عليهِ غليلٌ ليسَ يُبرِدِهُ الوِرْدُ

In my heart, from longing for him and burning grief

My heart aches for him in longing,

For him, is a burning thirst that drinking cannot cool.

While he remains indifferent, impervious to consolation.

وما بَردُ أَحشائي عَلى ما تَضَمَنَت

وما بَردُ أَحشائي عَلى ما تَضَمَنَت

منَ الوجدِ إِلّا مثلَما بَرَدَ الزّنْدُ

منَ الوجدِ إِلّا مثلَما بَرَدَ الزّنْدُ

And the coolness of my innermost being, despite what it holds

And my entrails find no solace

Of passion, is only like the cooling of a firestick.

For the anguish they harbor, as much as zinc is soothed by water.