فَهْيَso she is خَذوَاءُsoft-limbed بِعَيشٍin a life ناعِمٍof ease
فَهْيَ خَذوَاءُ بِعَيشٍ ناعِمٍ
بَرَدَgrew pleasant العَيْشُlife عَلَيهاfor her وَقُصِرْand was reserved
بَرَدَ العَيْشُ عَلَيها وَقُصِرْ
So she is soft-limbed, living in ease;
She is delicate, living a life of luxury
life has grown pleasant for her, reserved for her alone.
Yet life became difficult and her dwelling confined
لاnot تَمَسُّshe touches الأَرضَthe earth إِلَّاexcept دونَهاbeneath her
لا تَمَسُّ الأَرضَ إِلَّا دونَها
عَنfrom بَلاطِthe hard surface الأَرضِof the earth ثَوبٌa robe مُنعَفِرْdust-stained
عَن بَلاطِ الأَرضِ ثَوبٌ مُنعَفِرْ
She never touches the earth without, beneath her,
She barely touches the ground except beneath her
a dust-stained robe shielding her from its hard surface.
As her dress trails along the ground, rumpled
تَطَأُshe treads on الخَزَّsilk-and-wool cloth وَلاand does not تُكْرِمُهُcherish it
تَطَأُ الخَزَّ وَلا تُكْرِمُهُ
وَتُطيلُand lengthens الذَّيلَthe train مِنهُof it وَتَجُرّْand drags it
وَتُطيلُ الذَّيلَ مِنهُ وَتَجُرّْ
She treads on silk-and-wool cloth, showing it no regard,
She steps on silk but does not honor it
and lengthens its train, dragging it along.
Dragging her train over it as it flows behind
وَتَرَىand regards الرَّيطَfine linen wraps مَوَادِيعَeveryday clothes لَهاfor herself
وَتَرَى الرَّيطَ مَوَادِيعَ لَها
شُعُراًundergarments تَلبَسُهاshe wears them بَعدَafter شُعُرْundergarments
شُعُراً تَلبَسُها بَعدَ شُعُرْ
She regards fine linen wraps as everyday clothes,
Her tresses are like threads she dons
undergarments she wears, one set after another.
After donning her own locks first
ثُمَّthen تَنْهَدُّshe sinks down عَلىupon أَنمَاطِهاher patterned coverlets
ثُمَّ تَنْهَدُّ عَلى أَنمَاطِها
مِثلَlike ماthe way مالَslumped كَثِيبٌa sand dune مُنقَعِرْcollapsing at its base
مِثلَ ما مالَ كَثِيبٌ مُنقَعِرْ
Then she sinks upon her patterned coverlets,
Then she sighs over her attributes
like a sand dune slumping as its base gives way.
Like a dune that has collapsed and scattered
عَبَقُfragrance العَنبَرِof ambergris وَالمِسكِand musk بِهاon her
عَبَقُ العَنبَرِ وَالمِسكِ بِها
فَهيَso she is صَفرَاءُgolden-yellow كَعُرجُونlike a date-cluster stalk العُمُرْof date palms
فَهيَ صَفرَاءُ كَعُرجُون العُمُرْ
The fragrance of ambergris and musk clings to her;
The scent of ambergris and musk is upon her
so she is golden-yellow, like a date palm's fruit-stalk.
Her complexion like an old ambergris pod
إِنَّماonly النَّومُsleep عِشَاءًat evening طَفَلاًin its early hours
إِنَّما النَّومُ عِشَاءً طَفَلاً
سِنَةٌdrowsiness تَأْخُذُهاovertakes her مِثْلَlike السُّكُرْdrunkenness
سِنَةٌ تَأْخُذُها مِثْلَ السُّكُرْ
Her sleep, when evening is young, is only
Sleep to her is but a child's dinner
a drowsiness that takes her like drunkenness.
An age that takes her like intoxication
وَالضُّحَىand at forenoon تَغْلِبُهاovercomes her وَقدَتُهاher deep slumber
وَالضُّحَى تَغْلِبُها وَقدَتُها
خَرَقَstupor الجُؤْذُرof the wild-ox calf فيon اليَومِthe day الخَدِرْsultry
خَرَقَ الجُؤْذُر في اليَومِ الخَدِرْ
And in the forenoon, her deep slumber overcomes her,
And the morning overpowers her and her vigor
like a wild-ox calf's stupor on a sultry day.
The roots have worn through the inert day
وَهْيَand she لَوif يُعصَرُis wrung مِنfrom أَردَانِهاher sleeves
وَهْيَ لَو يُعصَرُ مِن أَردَانِها
عَبَقُfragrance المِسْكِof musk لَكَادَتshe would almost تَنعَصِرْbe wrung out
عَبَقُ المِسْكِ لَكَادَت تَنعَصِرْ
And if one were to wring from her sleeves
If her thighs were pressed, the scent of musk would flow
the musk's fragrance, she herself would almost be wrung out.
She is the saltiest of creatures when undressed
أَملَحُloveliest الخَلقِof all creatures إِذاif جَرَّدتَهاyou undress her
أَملَحُ الخَلقِ إِذا جَرَّدتَها
غَيرَexcept for سِمطينِtwo necklaces عَلَيهاupon her وَسُؤُرْand bracelets
غَيرَ سِمطينِ عَلَيها وَسُؤُرْ
She is the loveliest of creatures; if you undressed her,
Apart from her chemise and necklaces upon her
save for two necklaces upon her and bracelets,
You would think the sun was unveiled from within her robes
لَحَسِبتَyou would surely think الشَّمسَthe sun فيwithin جِلبابِهاher robe
لَحَسِبتَ الشَّمسَ في جِلبابِها
قَدhad تَبَدَّتappeared مِنfrom غَمامٍclouds مُنسَفِرْdrawing apart
قَد تَبَدَّت مِن غَمامٍ مُنسَفِرْ
you would think the sun, within her robe,
Each time a sun sets or becomes concealed
had appeared from clouds drawing apart.
You left me neither alive nor
صُورَةُthe form الشَّمسِof the sun عَلىin the likeness of صُورَتِهاher form
صُورَةُ الشَّمسِ عَلى صُورَتِها
كُلَّماwhenever تَغرُبُsets شَمْسٌa sun أَوor تَذُرّْrises
كُلَّما تَغرُبُ شَمْسٌ أَو تَذُرّْ
The sun's form resembles her own,
Dead, having met death and been buried
whenever a sun sets or rises.
People ask, does he suffer from fever
تَركتنيshe has left me لَستُI am not بِالحَيِّalive وَلاnor
تَركتني لَستُ بِالحَيِّ وَلا
مَيِّتٍdead لاقَىmet وَفَاةًdeath فَقُبِرْthen was buried
مَيِّتٍ لاقَى وَفَاةً فَقُبِرْ
She has left me neither alive nor
Or is he just lovesick and hiding it
a dead man who met death and was buried.
She is my disease and my cure lies with her
يَسأَلُask النَّاسُthe people أَحُمَّىis it fever? داؤُهُhis illness
يَسأَلُ النَّاسُ أَحُمَّى داؤُهُ
اَمor بِهِin him كانَhas been سُلالٌa wasting sickness مُستَسِرّْhidden
اَم بِهِ كانَ سُلالٌ مُستَسِرّْ
People ask, "Is fever his illness,
She withheld it, so it has become severe and painful
or has he suffered from a hidden wasting sickness?"
If my brothers were to kill me because of her
وَهْيَand she دَائِيmy illness وَشِفائيand my cure عِندَهاwith her
وَهْيَ دَائِي وَشِفائي عِندَها
مَنَعَتْهُshe withheld it فَهْوَso it is مُلْوِيٌّdeferred عَسِرْhard to obtain
مَنَعَتْهُ فَهْوَ مُلْوِيٌّ عَسِرْ
Yet she is my illness, and my cure lies with her;
The seeker among them would gain and succeed
she has withheld it, so it is deferred and hard to obtain.
I am not with people who mention her
وَهْيَand she لَوif يَقْتُلُهَاkill her بِيto avenge me إِخوَتيmy brothers
وَهْيَ لَو يَقْتُلُهَا بِي إِخوَتي
أَدرَكَattained his aim الطَّالِبُthe seeker of vengeance مِنهُمamong them وَظَفِرْand triumphed
أَدرَكَ الطَّالِبُ مِنهُم وَظَفِرْ
And if my brothers were to kill her to avenge me,
Verdant branches calling to barren wood
the avenger among them would have attained his aim and triumphed.
ماnot أَناI الدَّهرever بِناسٍforgetting ذِكرهاher memory
ما أَنا الدَّهر بِناسٍ ذِكرها
ماas long as غَدَتْgoes out at dawn وَرْقاءُa gray dove تَدعُوcalls سَاقَSaq (part of the dove-call) حُرّْHurr (part of the dove-call)
ما غَدَتْ وَرْقاءُ تَدعُو سَاقَ حُرّْ
Never in all my days shall I forget her memory,
so long as a gray dove goes out at dawn calling 'Saq Hurr'.
Partial English translation: 31 of 34 Arabic lines translated.