هَفاset aflutter بِفُؤاديmy heart مُوهِناًlate at night صَوتthe voice of صادحa songbird
هَفا بِفُؤادي مُوهِناً صَوت صادح
يَنوحlaments عَلىfor إِلفa mate عَنfrom البانthe moringa trees نازحfar departed
يَنوح عَلى إِلف عَن البان نازح
Late at night, a songbird’s voice set my heart aflutter,
Lamenting a mate far departed from the moringa trees.
يُرددrepeats وَجداًin longing نوحهُits lament وَحنينهand its yearning
يُردد وَجداً نوحهُ وَحنينه
وَأَصبَحَتand I became مِنfrom وَجديmy longing كَسَكرانlike a drunkard طافحutterly drunk
وَأَصبَحَت مِن وَجدي كَسَكران طافح
In longing, it repeats its lament and yearning cry,
And from longing I became like a drunkard utterly besotted.
فَنىran out الدَمthe blood بَعدَafter الدَمعthe tears مِماfrom what سَجمتهُI shed it
فَنى الدَم بَعدَ الدَمع مِما سَجمتهُ
وَرَقَّand took pity لِحاليon my plight كُلُevery واشٍslanderer وَكاشحand bitter foe
وَرَقَّ لِحالي كُلُ واشٍ وَكاشح
My blood ran dry after my tears, from all I shed,
And every slanderer and bitter foe took pity on my plight.
وَمِنand among شَقوَتيmy miseries أَنيthat I بَليتwas afflicted بِغيرةwith jealousy
وَمِن شَقوَتي أَني بَليت بِغيرة
لَهاit has أَلَمٌa pain فيin القَلبthe heart لَيسَis not بارحdeparting
لَها أَلَمٌ في القَلب لَيسَ بارح
And part of my misery is being afflicted with jealousy,
Whose pain within my heart never departs.
يَطيبis sweet الرَدىdeath ليto me حينَwhen يَلمَحglimpses ظلthe shadow of مِنone who
يَطيب الرَدى لي حينَ يَلمَح ظل مِن
مَحاerased ظَلَّthe shadow of شَخصيmy person حُبُهُlove for him طَرفan eye لامحglancing
مَحا ظَلَّ شَخصي حُبُهُ طَرف لامح
Death is sweet to me when the shadow of one is glimpsed—
One whose love erased my very shadow—by a glancing eye.
وَلَيسَand it is not بِمَمنوعforbidden وَإِنeven if مُتُI die حَسرةof grief
وَلَيسَ بِمَمنوع وَإِن مُتُ حَسرة
عَنfrom البَدوthe desert folk إِرسالthe casting of العُيونthe eyes الطَوامحyearning
عَن البَدو إِرسال العُيون الطَوامح
Nor is it forbidden, though I die of grief,
For the desert folk to cast their yearning eyes.
فَمِنso who ليfor me بِقَلبwith a heart غَيرother than قَلبيَmy heart يَشتريto buy
فَمِن لي بِقَلب غَير قَلبيَ يَشتري
لِنَفسيَfor myself أَوليتor would that الحمامdeath مَصابِحيmy morning visitor
لِنَفسيَ أَوليت الحمام مَصابِحي
Who, then, will find me a heart other than my own to buy
For myself? Or would that death were my morning visitor!
هَنيئاًmay it be sweet لِأَهلfor the people of النارthe Fire فيهاwithin it نَعيمُهُمtheir bliss
هَنيئاً لِأَهل النار فيها نَعيمُهُم
إِذاwhen قيسis compared ماwhat فيهاis in it بِماwith what فيwithin جَوانِحيmy breast
إِذا قيس ما فيها بِما في جَوانِحي
May the people of the Fire enjoy their bliss there,
When what is in it is compared with what is in my breast.