سَلَبتِ عِظامي لَحمَها فَتَرَكتِها

سَلَبتِ عِظامي لَحمَها فَتَرَكتِها

مُجَرَّدَةً تُضحي إِلَيكِ وَتَخصُرُ

مُجَرَّدَةً تُضحي إِلَيكِ وَتَخصُرُ

You stripped my bones of their flesh and left them

You stripped my bones of their flesh, leaving them

bare, exposed before you and shivering with cold.

Bare and frail sacrifices offered to you, tightly girdled;

وَأَخلَيتِها مِن مُخِّها فَكَأَنَّها

وَأَخلَيتِها مِن مُخِّها فَكَأَنَّها

قَواريرَ في أَجوافِها الريحُ تَصفُرُ

قَواريرَ في أَجوافِها الريحُ تَصفُرُ

And you emptied them of their marrow, so they are like

And emptied of their marrow until they were like

glass bottles in whose hollows the wind whistles.

Flutes which the wind whistles shrilly through.

إِذا سَمِعَت بِاِسمِ الفراقِ تَقَعقَعَت

إِذا سَمِعَت بِاِسمِ الفراقِ تَقَعقَعَت

مَفاصِلُها مِن هَولِ ما تَتَنَظَّرُ

مَفاصِلُها مِن هَولِ ما تَتَنَظَّرُ

When they hear the name of parting, a rattling shakes

When they hear the name of parting their joints

their joints, in dread of what they await.

Creak and tremble at the terror of what they expect.

خُذي بِيَدي ثُمَّ اِرفَعي الثَوبَ فَاِنظُري

خُذي بِيَدي ثُمَّ اِرفَعي الثَوبَ فَاِنظُري

بِيَ الضُرَّ إِلّا أَنَّني أَتَسَتَّرُ

بِيَ الضُرَّ إِلّا أَنَّني أَتَسَتَّرُ

Take hold of my hand, then lift the garment and look

Take my hand, lift your robe, and look at me—

at the affliction in me, though I keep myself covered.

See, nothing afflicts me but that I take pains to hide it.

فَما حيلَتي إِن لَم تَكُن لَك رَحمَةٌ

فَما حيلَتي إِن لَم تَكُن لَك رَحمَةٌ

عَلَيَّ وَلا لي عَنكِ صَبرٌ فَأَصبِرُ

عَلَيَّ وَلا لي عَنكِ صَبرٌ فَأَصبِرُ

So what recourse have I, if you have no mercy

What can I do if you feel no tenderness for me

on me, nor I patience apart from you, with which to endure?

Nor I any patience to endure your disdain?

فَوَاللَهِ ما قَصَّرتُ فيما أَظُنُّهُ

فَوَاللَهِ ما قَصَّرتُ فيما أَظُنُّهُ

رِضاكِ وَلَكِنّي مُحِبٌّ مُكَفَّرُ

رِضاكِ وَلَكِنّي مُحِبٌّ مُكَفَّرُ

For, by God, I have not fallen short in what I believe

By God, I think I did all I could to please you,

would please you; yet I am an unappreciated lover.

But I am a passionate lover fated to suffer.

نَظَرتُ كَأَنّي مِن وراءِ زُجاجَةٍ

نَظَرتُ كَأَنّي مِن وراءِ زُجاجَةٍ

إِلى الدارِ مِن ماءِ الصَبابَةِ أَنظُرُ

إِلى الدارِ مِن ماءِ الصَبابَةِ أَنظُرُ

I gazed as though from behind a glass vessel

I looked as though through a glass wall at our house

made of longing's water, looking at the dwelling.

From the disturbed waters—looked and looked again.

فَعَينايَ طَوراً تَغرَقانِ مِنَ البُكا

فَعَينايَ طَوراً تَغرَقانِ مِنَ البُكا

فأَعشى وَطوراً تحسرانِ فَأُبصِرُ

فأَعشى وَطوراً تحسرانِ فَأُبصِرُ

So my eyes at times drown in weeping,

Now my eyes are overwhelmed by a flood of tears,

and my sight dims; at other times they clear, and I see.

Now parched and blinded. I blink and can see once more.

فَلا مُقلَتي مِن غامِرِ الماءِ تَنجَلي

فَلا مُقلَتي مِن غامِرِ الماءِ تَنجَلي

وَلا دَمعَتي مِن شِدَّةِ الوَجدِ تَقطُرُ

وَلا دَمعَتي مِن شِدَّةِ الوَجدِ تَقطُرُ

So my eye does not clear of the engulfing water,

My eyelids will not be cleared of their overflowing water,

nor does my tear drip, so intense is longing.

Nor will my tears, for grief, be stemmed.

وَلَيسَ الَّذي يَجري مِنَ العَينِ دَمعها

وَلَيسَ الَّذي يَجري مِنَ العَينِ دَمعها

وَلَكِنَّها نَفسٌ تَذوبُ فَتَقطُرُ

وَلَكِنَّها نَفسٌ تَذوبُ فَتَقطُرُ

And what flows from the eye is not its tears,

The stream from my eyes is not tears,

but it is a soul that melts and drips.

Rather, it is a soul melting, dripping away.