لَو أَنَّ مَن تَهواهُ يَهواكا

لَو أَنَّ مَن تَهواهُ يَهواكا

قُرَّت بِطيبٍ عَينُ دُنياكا

قُرَّت بِطيبٍ عَينُ دُنياكا

If the one you love were to love you,

If only those you love would love you,

If only the one you desire desired you in return,

the eye of your world would be soothed with delight.

Your worldly life would be filled with bliss.

The eye of your world would find solace and delight.

هَيهاتَ هَذا مِنكَ أُمنِيَةٌ

هَيهاتَ هَذا مِنكَ أُمنِيَةٌ

مَنَّيتَها القَلبَ وَمَنّاكا

مَنَّيتَها القَلبَ وَمَنّاكا

Far out of reach! This is a wish of yours,

Alas, this is just wishful thinking -

But alas! This is merely a fantasy you harbor,

which you promised your heart, and it promised you.

A fantasy your heart conjures up.

A wish you promised the heart, and the heart promised you.

ماذا تُرَجّي وَالهَوى دائِبٌ

ماذا تُرَجّي وَالهَوى دائِبٌ

يَقدَحُ في زَندِ مَناياكا

يَقدَحُ في زَندِ مَناياكا

What do you hope for, while passion ceaselessly

What do you expect when passion persists

What do you hope for, when passion toils unceasingly

strikes sparks from the fire-stick of your doom?

And keeps striking sparks in your soul?

To strike fire upon the flint of your destruction?

غَرَستَ غُصنَ الحُبِّ حَتّى إِذا

غَرَستَ غُصنَ الحُبِّ حَتّى إِذا

أَثمَرَ كانَ الهَجرُ مَجناكا

أَثمَرَ كانَ الهَجرُ مَجناكا

You planted the branch of love, until, when

You planted a seedling of love until

You planted the bough of love, yet when the time came

it bore fruit, estrangement was your harvest.

When it bore fruit, separation was your harvest.

For it to bear fruit, abandonment was your harvest.

يا لَيتَ شِعرِيَ ماذا الَّذي

يا لَيتَ شِعرِيَ ماذا الَّذي

صَنَعتَ بِالحُبِّ وَما ذاكا

صَنَعتَ بِالحُبِّ وَما ذاكا

Oh, if only I knew: what is it that

I wonder what you did with love,

Oh, would that I knew what it is exactly

you did with love—and what was that?

And what that was all about!

That you have wrought with love, and what has come of it?

هَل غَيرَ أَن كُنتَ فَتىً عاشِقاً

هَل غَيرَ أَن كُنتَ فَتىً عاشِقاً

أَهلَكَكَ الحُبُّ وَأَغواكا

أَهلَكَكَ الحُبُّ وَأَغواكا

Was it anything but that you were a young man in love,

Did you do anything but live passionately,

Is it naught but that you were a youth in love,

whom love destroyed and led astray?

Until love destroyed and deluded you?

Whom love has annihilated and led astray?

دَعاكَ داعيهِ فَلَبَّيتَهُ

دَعاكَ داعيهِ فَلَبَّيتَهُ

وَجِئتَ تَسعى خابَ مَسعاكا

وَجِئتَ تَسعى خابَ مَسعاكا

Its caller called you, so you answered him,

It called you, and you answered eagerly,

Its caller summoned you, and you answered the call,

and you came hastening—your quest failed.

Only to end up disappointed and dejected.

You came rushing forth, yet your striving was in vain.

تَشكو فَلا تَلقى رَحيماً وَلا

تَشكو فَلا تَلقى رَحيماً وَلا

تَلقى مُجيباً عِندَ شَكواكا

تَلقى مُجيباً عِندَ شَكواكا

You complain, yet find no one merciful, nor

You complain but find no sympathizer,

You complain, yet find no one to offer mercy,

find anyone to answer when you complain.

No one to listen to your lamentations.

Nor anyone to respond to your lamentation.

كَأَنَّ مَن تَشكو إِلَيهِ الهَوى

كَأَنَّ مَن تَشكو إِلَيهِ الهَوى

أَصَمُّ لا يَسمَعُ نَجواكا

أَصَمُّ لا يَسمَعُ نَجواكا

As though the one to whom you complain of love

It seems the one you complain to about passion

It is as if the one to whom you confess your passion

were deaf and did not hear your whispers.

Is deaf, unable to hear your whispers.

Is deaf, and hears not your secret plea.