الليلُ أسهَرُهُ فَهَمِّي راتبُ

الليلُ أسهَرُهُ فَهَمِّي راتبُ

والصُّبْحُ أكرهُهُ ففيهِ نوائبُ

والصُّبْحُ أكرهُهُ ففيهِ نوائبُ

The night I spend awake, for my worry is constant.

The night, I stay awake in reflection

And I loathe the morning, for in it are calamities.

And the morn, I abhor it, for in it are tribulations

فكأنَّ ذاكَ قَذًى لطرفي مُسْهِرٌ

فكأنَّ ذاكَ قَذًى لطرفي مُسْهِرٌ

وكأنَّ هذا فيه سيفٌ قاضبُ

وكأنَّ هذا فيه سيفٌ قاضبُ

So that is like a mote in my eye, keeping me awake.

As if the former were a splinter to my sleepless eye

And this is as though a keen-cutting sword were within it.

And as if the latter had in it an unsheathed sword