عَاجَcame by الْخَيَالُthe dream-vision فَلَمْbut did not يَبُلَّquench أُوَامَاburning thirst
عَاجَ الْخَيَالُ فَلَمْ يَبُلَّ أُوَامَا
وَمَضَىand departed وَخَلَّفَand left behind فِيwithin الضُّلُوعِthe ribs ضِرَامَاa blaze
وَمَضَى وَخَلَّفَ فِي الضُّلُوعِ ضِرَامَا
The dream-vision came by, but did not quench my burning thirst,
And departed, leaving a blaze within my ribs.
مَاwhat لِيfor me وَلِلْكَحْلَاءِand with the dark-eyed woman! هِجْتُI roused عُيُونَهَاher eyes
مَا لِي وَلِلْكَحْلَاءِ! هِجْتُ عُيُونَهَا
فَمَلَأْنَso they filled قَلْبِيmy heart أَنْصُلًاblades وَسِهَامَاand arrows
فَمَلَأْنَ قَلْبِي أَنْصُلًا وَسِهَامَا
What have I to do with the dark-eyed woman? I roused her eyes,
And they filled my heart with blades and arrows.
يَاO قَلْبُheart وَيْحَكَalas for you! مَاnot سَمِعْتَyou listened لِنَاصِحٍto an adviser
يَا قَلْبُ وَيْحَكَ! مَا سَمِعْتَ لِنَاصِحٍ
لَمَّاwhen ارْتَمَيْتَyou hurled yourself، وَلَاnor اتَّقَيْتَyou guarded against مَلَامَاreproach
لَمَّا ارْتَمَيْتَ، وَلَا اتَّقَيْتَ مَلَامَا
O heart, alas for you! You heeded no adviser
When you hurled yourself in, nor did you guard against reproach.
لَعِبَتْtoyed بِكَwith you الْحَسْنَاءُthe beauty، تَدْنُوdraws near سَاعَةًfor an hour
لَعِبَتْ بِكَ الْحَسْنَاءُ، تَدْنُو سَاعَةً
فَتُثِيرُand so stirs مَاwhat بِكَis within you، ثُمَّthen تَهْجُرُforsakes عَامَاfor a year
فَتُثِيرُ مَا بِكَ، ثُمَّ تَهْجُرُ عَامَا
The beauty toyed with you: she draws near for an hour,
And stirs what is within you, then forsakes you for a year.
وَالْحُبُّand love مَاas long as لَمْnot تَكْتَنِفْهُsurround it شَمَائِلٌqualities
وَالْحُبُّ مَا لَمْ تَكْتَنِفْهُ شَمَائِلٌ
غُرٌّradiant يَعُودُbecomes مَعَرَّةًa disgrace وَأَثَامَاand sin!
غُرٌّ يَعُودُ مَعَرَّةً وَأَثَامَا!
And love, unless it is surrounded by qualities
Radiant and noble, becomes disgrace and sin!
وَالْحُبُّand love أَحْلَامُdreams الشَّبَابِyouth هَنِيئَةًblissful
وَالْحُبُّ أَحْلَامُ الشَّبَابِ هَنِيئَةً
مَاhow أَطْيَبَsweet الْأَيَّامَthe days والْأَحْلَامَاand the dreams!
مَا أَطْيَبَ الْأَيَّامَ والْأَحْلَامَا!
And love is youth's blissful dreams;
How sweet the days and the dreams!
وَالْحُبُّand love نَازِعَةُthe impulse الْكَرِيمِof the noble man تَهُزُّهُstirs him
وَالْحُبُّ نَازِعَةُ الْكَرِيمِ تَهُزُّهُ
فَيَصُولُso he charges سَيْفًاas a sword أَوْor يَسِيلُhe flows غَمَامَاas a raincloud!
فَيَصُولُ سَيْفًا أَوْ يَسِيلُ غَمَامَا!
And love is the noble man's impulse, stirring him,
So he charges like a sword, or pours like a raincloud!
وَالْحُبُّand love مَلْهَاةُdiversion الْحَيَاةِlife وَطِبُّهَاand its cure
وَالْحُبُّ مَلْهَاةُ الْحَيَاةِ وَطِبُّهَا
وَلَقَدْand indeed تَكُونُbecomes بِهِthrough it الْحَيَاةُlife سَقَامَاsickness!
وَلَقَدْ تَكُونُ بِهِ الْحَيَاةُ سَقَامَا!
And love is life's diversion and its cure,
Yet through it life may indeed become sickness!
وَالْحُبُّand love نِيرَانُfires الْمَجُوسِthe Magi، لَهِيبُهَاtheir flame
وَالْحُبُّ نِيرَانُ الْمَجُوسِ، لَهِيبُهَا
يُحْيِيgives life to النُّفُوسَsouls، وَيَقْتُلُand kills الْأَجْسَامَاbodies!
يُحْيِي النُّفُوسَ، وَيَقْتُلُ الْأَجْسَامَا!
And love is the fires of the Magi; their flame
Gives life to souls and kills bodies!
وَالْحُبُّand love شِعْرُpoetry النَّفْسِthe soul إِنْif هَتَفَتْit cries out بِهِwith it
وَالْحُبُّ شِعْرُ النَّفْسِ إِنْ هَتَفَتْ بِهِ
سَكَتَfalls silent الْوُجُودُexistence وَأَطْرَقَand bows its head اسْتِعْظَامَاin awe!
سَكَتَ الْوُجُودُ وَأَطْرَقَ اسْتِعْظَامَا!
And love is the soul's poetry; if the soul gives voice to it,
Existence falls silent and bows its head in awe!
وَالْحُبُّand love مِنْfrom سِرِّthe mystery السَّمَاءِheaven فَسَمِّهِso call it
وَالْحُبُّ مِنْ سِرِّ السَّمَاءِ فَسَمِّهِ
وَحْيًاrevelation إِذَاif مَاemphatic particle شِئْتَyou wish أَوْor إِلْهَامَاinspiration
وَحْيًا إِذَا مَا شِئْتَ أَوْ إِلْهَامَا
And love is of heaven's mystery, so call it
Revelation, if you wish, or inspiration.
لَوْلَاهُwithout it مَاnot أَضْحَىbecame وَلِيدُthe son زَبِيبَةٍZabiba
لَوْلَاهُ مَا أَضْحَى وَلِيدُ زَبِيبَةٍ
يَوْمَon the day التَّفَاخُرِof boasting سَيِّدًاa lord مِقْدَامَاfearless
يَوْمَ التَّفَاخُرِ سَيِّدًا مِقْدَامَا
Without it, Zabiba's son would not have become
On the day of boasting, a fearless lord;
وَلَمَاnor would he have رَمَىhurled فِيamid الْجَحْفَلَيْنِthe two armies بِصَدْرِهِwith his breast
وَلَمَا رَمَى فِي الْجَحْفَلَيْنِ بِصَدْرِهِ
لَاnot يَتَّقِيguards against رُمْحًاa spear وَلَاnor صَمْصَامَاa keen-edged sword
لَا يَتَّقِي رُمْحًا وَلَا صَمْصَامَا
Nor would he have plunged, breast first, amid the two armies,
Guarding against neither spear nor keen-edged sword.
الْحُبُّlove أَلْبَسَهُclothed him الْمُرُوءَةَnoble virtue يَافِعًاas a youth
الْحُبُّ أَلْبَسَهُ الْمُرُوءَةَ يَافِعًا
وَأَعَدَّهُand prepared him لِلْمَكْرُمَاتِfor noble deeds غُلَامَاas a boy
وَأَعَدَّهُ لِلْمَكْرُمَاتِ غُلَامَا
Love clothed him in noble virtue as a youth,
And prepared him for noble deeds while still a boy.
يَاoh شَدَّhow greatly مَاwhat فَعَلَdid الْغَرَامُpassion بِمُهْجَةٍto a heart
يَا شَدَّ مَا فَعَلَ الْغَرَامُ بِمُهْجَةٍ
ذَابَتْmelted أَسًىwith grief وَصَبَابَةًand yearning وَهُيَامَاand frenzied love!
ذَابَتْ أَسًى وَصَبَابَةً وَهُيَامَا!
Oh, how mightily passion has worked upon a heart
That melted with grief, yearning, and frenzied love!
كَانَتْit was صَئُولًاfierce لاnot تُنِيلُyields خِطَامَهَاits halter
كَانَتْ صَئُولًا لا تُنِيلُ خِطَامَهَا
فَغَدَتْthen it became أَذَلَّthe most submissive السَّائِمَاتِgrazing beasts خِطَامَاhalter!
فَغَدَتْ أَذَلَّ السَّائِمَاتِ خِطَامَا!
It was fierce, yielding its halter to none,
Then became the most docile of grazing beasts at the halter!
سَكَنَتْit found repose إِلَىin حُلْوِsweetness الْغَرَامِpassion وَمُرِّهِand its bitterness
سَكَنَتْ إِلَى حُلْوِ الْغَرَامِ وَمُرِّهِ
وَرَعَتْand kept عُهُودًاcovenants لِلْهَوَىfor love وَذِمَامَاand bonds of honor
وَرَعَتْ عُهُودًا لِلْهَوَى وَذِمَامَا
It found repose in passion's sweetness and bitterness,
And kept love's covenants and bonds of honor.
وَطَوَتْand folded away أَحَادِيثَtales الْجَوَىlove's anguish فَطَوَتْso folded away بِهَاwith them
وَطَوَتْ أَحَادِيثَ الْجَوَى فَطَوَتْ بِهَا
دَاءًa disease يَدُكُّcrushes الرَّاسِيَاتِthe firmly rooted mountains عُقَامَاincurable
دَاءً يَدُكُّ الرَّاسِيَاتِ عُقَامَا
And folded away the tales of love's anguish, folding with them
An incurable disease that crushes the firmly rooted mountains.
نَالَhas taken الضَّنَىwasting sickness مِنْهَاfrom it الَّذِيwhat قَدْalready نَالَهُhas taken it
نَالَ الضَّنَى مِنْهَا الَّذِي قَدْ نَالَهُ
فَعَلَامَso why رَوَّعَهَاhas terrified it الصُّدُودُrejection عَلَامَاwhy؟
فَعَلَامَ رَوَّعَهَا الصُّدُودُ عَلَامَا؟
Wasting sickness has taken from it what it has already taken;
Why, then, has rejection terrified it—why?
يَاO زَهْرَةًa flower نَمَّtold النَّسِيمُthe breeze بِعَرْفِهَاof its fragrance
يَا زَهْرَةً نَمَّ النَّسِيمُ بِعَرْفِهَا
وَجَرَىand flowed بِهَاthrough it مَاءُthe water النَّعِيمِbliss جِمَامَاabundantly
وَجَرَى بِهَا مَاءُ النَّعِيمِ جِمَامَا
O flower whose fragrance the breeze has revealed,
And through which the water of bliss has flowed abundantly,
يَاO جَنَّةًa paradise لَوْif كَانَwere يَنْفَعُavails عِنْدَهَاin its presence
يَا جَنَّةً لَوْ كَانَ يَنْفَعُ عِنْدَهَا
نُسْكٌworship لَبِتْنَاwe would spend the night سُجَّدًاprostrate وَقِيَامَاand standing
نُسْكٌ لَبِتْنَا سُجَّدًا وَقِيَامَا
O paradise, if any good could come there from
Worship, we would spend the night prostrate and standing.
يَاO طَلْعَةَcountenance الرَّوْضِthe garden النَّضِيرِverdant تَحِيَّةًgreetings!
يَا طَلْعَةَ الرَّوْضِ النَّضِيرِ تَحِيَّةً!
وَمُجَاجَةَand spittle الْمِسْكِmusk الذَّكِيِّfragrant سَلَامَاpeace!
وَمُجَاجَةَ الْمِسْكِ الذَّكِيِّ سَلَامَا!
O countenance of the verdant garden, greetings!
And O outpouring of fragrant musk, peace!
Translation model: Sol 6.1