وذي جنونٍ أظنُّها عرَفَت

وذي جنونٍ أظنُّها عرَفَت

لشِقوتي ما يُجنُّه صَدري

لشِقوتي ما يُجنُّه صَدري

And one possessed of madness—I think she has learned

I dwell in madness, I think it knows

To my misfortune, what my breast conceals.

Of my misery, what maddens my heart,

فهي تُناجي قَلبي بما عَلِمت

فهي تُناجي قَلبي بما عَلِمت

منه فتَغتالُه عن الشكرِ

منه فتَغتالُه عن الشكرِ

So she whispers to my heart what she has learned

So it whispers to my heart what it learned

From it, and beguiles it away from gratitude.

From it, thus killing it of gratitude.

ما أطلَعاني على سِرارِهما

ما أطلَعاني على سِرارِهما

أما عجيبٌ أهوى ولا أدري

أما عجيبٌ أهوى ولا أدري

The two have not let me in on their private conversation.

It did not let me in on their secrets,

Is it not strange? I love, yet I do not know.

Is it not strange to love yet not know?