أَخي العِشرونَ مِن شَعبانَ وَلَّت

أَخي العِشرونَ مِن شَعبانَ وَلَّت

وَها شَمسُ المَسَرَّةِ قَد تَجَلَّت

وَها شَمسُ المَسَرَّةِ قَد تَجَلَّت

My brother, twenty days of Sha‘ban have passed,

The twentieth of Sha'ban has passed

And behold, the sun of joy has shone forth.

And the bright sun of joy has shone

وَجادَ لَنا الزَمانُ بِطيبِ يَومٍ

وَجادَ لَنا الزَمانُ بِطيبِ يَومٍ

بِهِ أَيّامُ عُمري قَد تَحَلَّت

بِهِ أَيّامُ عُمري قَد تَحَلَّت

And time has granted us a delightful day,

Time has been generous to us with a beautiful day

With which the days of my life have been adorned.

On which the days of my life are adorned

نَعُمتُ بِوَصلِ أختِ البَدرِ لَكِن

نَعُمتُ بِوَصلِ أختِ البَدرِ لَكِن

لَها فَضلٌ عَلَيهِ أَينَ حَلَّت

لَها فَضلٌ عَلَيهِ أَينَ حَلَّت

I delighted in union with the full moon’s sister, yet

I was blessed by the visit of the sister of the full moon, but

She surpasses it wherever she alights.

She has more virtue over it - wherever she pitched her tent

وَلِم لا وَهيَ تَجمَعُ كُلَّ حُسنٍ

وَلِم لا وَهيَ تَجمَعُ كُلَّ حُسنٍ

وَفيها أَلسُنُ الشعَراء كَلَّت

وَفيها أَلسُنُ الشعَراء كَلَّت

And why not, when she embodies all beauty,

Why not, as she combines all beauty

And poets’ tongues have faltered in describing her?

And in her the tongues of poets have faltered

فَتاةٌ مِن بَناتِ التركِ ماذا

فَتاةٌ مِن بَناتِ التركِ ماذا

عَلَينا مِن سُيوفِ اللَحظِ سَلَّت

عَلَينا مِن سُيوفِ اللَحظِ سَلَّت

A maiden among the daughters of the Turks—how many

A Turkish girl, what

Swords of her glance she has drawn against us!

Swords of glances has she unsheathed against us

وَتَخطُرُ في مَلابِسَ مِن جَمالٍ

وَتَخطُرُ في مَلابِسَ مِن جَمالٍ

ثيابَ الصَبرِ وَالسلوانِ أَبلَت

ثيابَ الصَبرِ وَالسلوانِ أَبلَت

And she sways along in garments of beauty;

She moves about in dresses of unmatched beauty

The robes of patience and solace she has worn out.

Having donned the garb of patience and splendor

وَشَمسُ الراحِ مُشرِقَةٌ عَلَينا

وَشَمسُ الراحِ مُشرِقَةٌ عَلَينا

وَسَيفُ كؤوسِنا لِلهَمِّ فَلَّت

وَسَيفُ كؤوسِنا لِلهَمِّ فَلَّت

And the sun of wine shines upon us,

The sun of comfort shines upon us

And our cups have blunted sorrow’s sword.

And the sword of our goblets is unsheathed against worries

وَرَبّابٌ يُجيبُ نِداهُ عُود

وَرَبّابٌ يُجيبُ نِداهُ عُود

بِتَرجيعٍ عَلى الأَشجانِ دَلَّت

بِتَرجيعٍ عَلى الأَشجانِ دَلَّت

And an oud answers a rebab’s call,

As the tunes of the lutanist respond

With trilling strains that tell of sorrows.

To the laments with a returning melody