وَحَمَّاءِ العِلاطِ إِذا تَغَنَّتْ

وَحَمَّاءِ العِلاطِ إِذا تَغَنَّتْ

فَكَمْ طَرَبٍ يُخالِطُهُ أَنينُ

فَكَمْ طَرَبٍ يُخالِطُهُ أَنينُ

And a dark-collared dove, when she sings—

When the doves of Al-Elat coo,

how much rapture is mingled with moaning!

what passion mixes with their moan!

وَأُرْعِيها مَسامِعَ لَمْ يُمِلْها

وَأُرْعِيها مَسامِعَ لَمْ يُمِلْها

إِلى نَغَماتِها إِلَّا الرَّنينُ

إِلى نَغَماتِها إِلَّا الرَّنينُ

And I lend her ears that nothing has drawn

My ears cannot tire of their song—

toward her melodies except their ringing.

only the echo resounds within.

وَبَيْنَ جَوانِحي مِمَّا أُعانِي

وَبَيْنَ جَوانِحي مِمَّا أُعانِي

تَباريحٌ يُلَقِّحُها الحَنينُ

تَباريحٌ يُلَقِّحُها الحَنينُ

And within my ribs, from what I endure,

Between my ribs, from my suffering,

are torments that longing fertilizes.

stirs a yearning their coos awaken.

بَكَتْ وَجُفُونُها ما صَافَحَتْها

بَكَتْ وَجُفُونُها ما صَافَحَتْها

دُمُوعٌ وَالغَرامُ بِها يَبِينُ

دُمُوعٌ وَالغَرامُ بِها يَبِينُ

She wept, though her eyelids had not been greeted

Tears flowed when her eyelids blinked,

by tears, and passion is plain in her.

weeping while love was plain to see.

وَلي طَرْفٌ أَلَحَّ عَلَيهِ دَمْعٌ

وَلي طَرْفٌ أَلَحَّ عَلَيهِ دَمْعٌ

تَتابَعَ فَيْضُهُ فَمَنِ الحَزينُ

تَتابَعَ فَيْضُهُ فَمَنِ الحَزينُ

And I have an eye beset by tears,

My eyes brimmed with tears that poured

whose flow has been unbroken—so who is the sorrowful one?

ceaselessly—who then feels more pain than me?