ظَلومُ هَبي لي سُوءَ ظَنِّكِ وَاِعلَمي

ظَلومُ هَبي لي سُوءَ ظَنِّكِ وَاِعلَمي

بِأَنَّ الَّذي بي مِنكِ عَنهُنَّ شاغِلُ

بِأَنَّ الَّذي بي مِنكِ عَنهُنَّ شاغِلُ

Zalum, for my sake, set aside your ill opinion, and know

My love, do not think ill of me, and know

that what I feel because of you keeps me from them.

That what keeps me from you makes me suffer and pine

مَتى لَيتَ شِعري نَلتَقي وَإِلى مَتى

مَتى لَيتَ شِعري نَلتَقي وَإِلى مَتى

تُؤَدّي رِسالاتي إِلَيكِ الأَنامِلُ

تُؤَدّي رِسالاتي إِلَيكِ الأَنامِلُ

When—would that I knew—shall we meet, and how long

When will we meet, I wonder, and until when

will fingertips convey my messages to you?

Will letters convey my love for you?

وَأَسكُتُ كَي يَخفى الَّذي بي مِنَ الهَوى

وَأَسكُتُ كَي يَخفى الَّذي بي مِنَ الهَوى

فَتَشكو إِلى الناسِ العِظامُ النَواحِلُ

فَتَشكو إِلى الناسِ العِظامُ النَواحِلُ

And I keep silent so that the passion within me may stay hidden,

I stay silent to hide my passion from others

yet my wasted bones complain to people.

So that only bare bones betray my sickness of love

وَأَكتُمُ جُهدي ما أُجِنُّ مِن الهَوى

وَأَكتُمُ جُهدي ما أُجِنُّ مِن الهَوى

فَتَنشُرُ ما أُخفي الدُموعُ الهَوامِلُ

فَتَنشُرُ ما أُخفي الدُموعُ الهَوامِلُ

And I conceal, as best I can, the passion I harbor,

I conceal my struggle with love's agony

yet streaming tears reveal what I hide.

Yet falling tears expose my hidden fire