شافَهَ كَفِّي رَشَأٌ

شافَهَ كَفِّي رَشَأٌ

بقُبلَةٍ ما شفَتِ

بقُبلَةٍ ما شفَتِ

A young gazelle touched my palm with his lips,

My palm was sprinkled

With a kiss that did not heal.

With a kiss my lips did not savor

فقلْتُ إذْ قبَّلَها

فقلْتُ إذْ قبَّلَها

يا لَيتَ كَفَّي شَفَتي

يا لَيتَ كَفَّي شَفَتي

So I said, when he kissed it,

So I said, as it kissed her

Oh, if only my palm were my lip!

If only my palm were my lips