يا مُعطِشي مِن وِصالٍ كُنتُ وارِدَهُ

يا مُعطِشي مِن وِصالٍ كُنتُ وارِدَهُ

هَل مِنكَ لي غُلَّةٌ إِن صِحتُ واعَطَشي

هَل مِنكَ لي غُلَّةٌ إِن صِحتُ واعَطَشي

O you who make me thirst for a union I once drank of,

O you who thirst for union, though once its spring,

Is there burning thirst for me from you, if I cry, 'Alas, my thirst!'?

Would you give me a draught, if I live and thirst again?

كَسَوتَني مِن ثِيابِ السَقمِ أَسبَغَها

كَسَوتَني مِن ثِيابِ السَقمِ أَسبَغَها

ظُلماً وَصَيَّرتَ مِن لَحفِ الضَنى فُرُشي

ظُلماً وَصَيَّرتَ مِن لَحفِ الضَنى فُرُشي

You clothed me in the most ample robes of sickness,

You clothed me in illness’ garb, abundantly cast,

unjustly, and made my bedding from the coverlets of wasting illness.

As darkness, and furnished from sadness’ quilt, my bed.

إِنّي بَصَرتُ الهَوى عَن مُقلَةٍ كُحِلَت

إِنّي بَصَرتُ الهَوى عَن مُقلَةٍ كُحِلَت

بِالسِحرِ مِنكَ وَخَدٍّ بِالجَمالِ وُشي

بِالسِحرِ مِنكَ وَخَدٍّ بِالجَمالِ وُشي

Indeed, I perceived love through an eye kohled

I saw passion from a kohl-lined eyelid,

with magic—an eye of yours—and a cheek embroidered with beauty.

Bewitched through your cheek, with beauty lined.

لَمّا بَدا الصَدغُ مُسوَدّاً بِأَحمَرِهِ

لَمّا بَدا الصَدغُ مُسوَدّاً بِأَحمَرِهِ

أَرى التَسالُمَ بَينَ الرومِ وَالحَبَشِ

أَرى التَسالُمَ بَينَ الرومِ وَالحَبَشِ

When the sidelock appeared, black against his ruddy cheek,

When the mole showed, darkened with its redness,

it showed concord between the Romans and the Abyssinians.

I see accord between the Romans and Abyssinians.

أَوفى إِلى الخَدِّ ثُمَّ اِنصاعَ مُنعَطِفاً

أَوفى إِلى الخَدِّ ثُمَّ اِنصاعَ مُنعَطِفاً

كَالعُقرُبانِ اِنثَنى مِن خَوفِ مُحتَرِشِ

كَالعُقرُبانِ اِنثَنى مِن خَوفِ مُحتَرِشِ

It reached the cheek, then turned aside, curving back,

It inclined to the cheek, then bent, curving,

like a centipede that curled back in fear of a hunter.

Like a scorpion, recoiling in fear of one who would strike it.

لَو شِئتَ زُرتَ وَسَلكُ النَجمِ مُنتَظِمُ

لَو شِئتَ زُرتَ وَسَلكُ النَجمِ مُنتَظِمُ

وَالأُفقُ يَختالُ في ثَوبٍ مِنَ الغَبَشِ

وَالأُفقُ يَختالُ في ثَوبٍ مِنَ الغَبَشِ

If you wished, you could visit—while the stars' strand lies ordered

If you wished, you would visit, and the star’s path aligned,

and the horizon struts in a robe of predawn dimness—

While the horizon struts in a robe of dust.

صَبّاً إِذا التَذَّتِ الأَجفانُ طَعمَ كَرىً

صَبّاً إِذا التَذَّتِ الأَجفانُ طَعمَ كَرىً

جَفا المَنامَ وَصاحَ اللَيلَ يا قُرَشي

جَفا المَنامَ وَصاحَ اللَيلَ يا قُرَشي

a lovesick man who, when eyelids savor the taste of slumber,

Like a wild animal, when the lids contract, the taste of seeing

shuns sleep and cries through the night, 'O Qurashi!'

Grows cold, and the night cries “O man of Quraysh!”

هَذا وَإِن تَلِفَت نَفسي فَلا عَجَبٌ

هَذا وَإِن تَلِفَت نَفسي فَلا عَجَبٌ

قَد كانَ مَوتي مِن تِلكَ الجُفونِ خُشي

قَد كانَ مَوتي مِن تِلكَ الجُفونِ خُشي

This is so; and if my soul should perish, it is no wonder:

So if my soul turns, it is no wonder,

My death from those eyelids had already been feared.

For my death from those lids was feared.