وَخَرساءَ إِلا في الرَّبيع فَإِنَّها

وَخَرساءَ إِلا في الرَّبيع فَإِنَّها

نَظيرَةُ قُسٍّ في العُصور الذَّواهِبِ

نَظيرَةُ قُسٍّ في العُصور الذَّواهِبِ

And one mute except in spring, for then she is

Silent, except in spring when it is

the peer of Quss in ages long gone.

Like an old tree in the fleeing seasons,

أَتَت تَمدحُ النوارَ فَوقَ غُصونِها

أَتَت تَمدحُ النوارَ فَوقَ غُصونِها

كَما يَمدَحُ العُشاقُ حُسنَ الحَبائِبِ

كَما يَمدَحُ العُشاقُ حُسنَ الحَبائِبِ

She came praising the blossoms above her boughs,

It came to praise the flowers on its branches

as lovers praise the beauty of their beloveds.

As lovers praise the beauty of their belovèd,

تُبدِّلُ أَلحاناً إِذا قيلَ بدِّلي

تُبدِّلُ أَلحاناً إِذا قيلَ بدِّلي

كَما بَدَّلَت ضَرباً أَكفُّ الضوارِبِ

كَما بَدَّلَت ضَرباً أَكفُّ الضوارِبِ

She changes melodies when told, 'Change!'

It changes tunes when asked to change,

as the hands of women players change the beat.

As the nimblest fingers change their strokes,

تُغَنّي عَلَينا في عروضين شعرَها

تُغَنّي عَلَينا في عروضين شعرَها

وَلَكنَّ شعراً في قَوافٍ غَرائِبِ

وَلَكنَّ شعراً في قَوافٍ غَرائِبِ

She sings her verse to us in two meters,

It sings to us in the meters of its poetry,

and yet it is verse with strange rhymes.

But with rare, wondrous rhyming schemes,

إِذا اِبتدأت تنشدكَ رجزاً وَإِن تَقل

إِذا اِبتدأت تنشدكَ رجزاً وَإِن تَقل

لَها بَدِّلي تُنشِدكَ في المتقارِبِ

لَها بَدِّلي تُنشِدكَ في المتقارِبِ

When she begins, she chants rajaz to you; and if you say

When it begins chanting satire to you and you tell it

to her, 'Change!' she chants to you in mutaqārib.

“Change!”—it chants to you in harmonies,

وَلَيسَ لَها تيه الطُّراءِ بِصَوتها

وَلَيسَ لَها تيه الطُّراءِ بِصَوتها

وَلَكن تُغَنِّي كُلَّ صاحٍ وَشارِبِ

وَلَكن تُغَنِّي كُلَّ صاحٍ وَشارِبِ

And she has none of the newcomers' conceit about her voice,

Its voice lacks the warbling of turtle doves

but sings to every sober person and drinker.

But sings to all who cry out and drink.