وَساجِيةَ الأَلْحاظِ تَفْتُرُ إِنْ رَنَتْ

وَساجِيةَ الأَلْحاظِ تَفْتُرُ إِنْ رَنَتْ

فَتَحْسَبُها مَمْلوءَةً مِنْ رُقادِها

فَتَحْسَبُها مَمْلوءَةً مِنْ رُقادِها

And a woman with tranquil eyes, languid when she gazes—

The glances of her languid eyes grow cold when she's cross,

you would think them filled with her slumber.

So you'd think them brimful of sleepiness.

أُعَلّلُ نَفْسي بِالمُنى وَيَشوقُني

أُعَلّلُ نَفْسي بِالمُنى وَيَشوقُني

سَنا البَرْقِ يَسْري مَوْهِناً مِنْ بِلادِها

سَنا البَرْقِ يَسْري مَوْهِناً مِنْ بِلادِها

I console myself with hopes, and my longing is stirred by

I make excuses, though I yearn for her embraces;

the lightning's gleam, traveling late at night from her land.

Her cheek's soft lightning roams gently from her land.

وَما لِيَ مِنْها غَيْرُ داءٍ مُخامِرٍ

وَما لِيَ مِنْها غَيْرُ داءٍ مُخامِرٍ

يُبَرِّح بي في قُرْبِها وَبِعادِها

يُبَرِّح بي في قُرْبِها وَبِعادِها

And I have nothing from her but an abiding illness

She gives me nothing but a lingering sickness

that torments me both near her and far from her.

That keeps me near, or draws me from, her side.

وَأَرْعَى نُجومَ اللَّيْلِ وَالعَيْنُ ثَرَّةٌ

وَأَرْعَى نُجومَ اللَّيْلِ وَالعَيْنُ ثَرَّةٌ

تُرَاقِبُها مَطْروفَةً بِسُهادِها

تُرَاقِبُها مَطْروفَةً بِسُهادِها

And I watch the stars of night, my eye overflowing with tears,

I tend the stars in night's darkness, while my eyes

keeping watch on them, sore from its sleeplessness.

Keep watch o'er them, wrapped in their own lids.

فَلَيْتَ بَياضَ الصُّبْحِ يَبْدو لِمُقْلَةٍ

فَلَيْتَ بَياضَ الصُّبْحِ يَبْدو لِمُقْلَةٍ

كَأَنَّ الدُّجَى مَخْلُوقَةٌ مِنْ سَوادِها

كَأَنَّ الدُّجَى مَخْلُوقَةٌ مِنْ سَوادِها

If only the whiteness of dawn would appear to an eye

Would that the whiteness of the dawn might appear to my weeping eyes

from whose blackness night's darkness seems to have been created.

As if the gloom were created from her blackness.