مِنbecause of قَدِّthe stature of مَنthe one who قَدَّcleft قَلبيmy heart يَخجَلُis abashed البانُthe bān tree
مِن قَدِّ مَن قَدَّ قَلبي يَخجَلُ البانُ
فَخاطِريso my mind بِالأَسىwith sorrow مِلآنَfull مَلآنُbrimful
فَخاطِري بِالأَسى مِلآنَ مَلآنُ
The bān tree is abashed by the stature of him who cleft my heart.
My heart is ashamed of one so beautiful
So my mind is full, brimful with sorrow.
Whose thoughts are filled with such sorrow
ريمٌa gazelle رَمانيstruck me بِوَجدٍwith passionate longing لاnot يَريمُdeparts وَهِجand his habit (first fragment)
ريمٌ رَماني بِوَجدٍ لا يَريمُ وَهِج
جيراهُhis habit (continuation) إِنif رُمتُهُI seek him هَجرٌabandonment وَهِجرانُand estrangement
جيراهُ إِن رُمتُهُ هَجرٌ وَهِجرانُ
A gazelle struck me with a passion that never departs; and his
She who has afflicted me with such passion does not relent
habit, if I seek him, is abandonment and estrangement.
Though her aversion and estrangement cause me distress
تَجنيpluck ثِمارَthe fruits of المُنىwishes مِنهُfrom him القُلوبُthe hearts بِأَلwith glances (first fragment)
تَجني ثِمارَ المُنى مِنهُ القُلوبُ بِأَل
حاظِglances (continuation) العُيونِof the eyes اِختِلاساًfurtively فَهوَfor he is بُستانُa garden
حاظِ العُيونِ اِختِلاساً فَهوَ بُستانُ
Hearts pluck from him the fruits of desire with
The heart reaps the fruits of its desire through glances
the eyes' glances, furtively—for he is a garden.
That roam her eyes like a garden
وَماand not تَزالُcease to be رِياضُthe gardens of الحُسنِbeauty مونقَةًlovely
وَما تَزالُ رِياضُ الحُسنِ مونقَةً
مِنهُthrough him فَكُلُّso every زَمانٍseason مِنهُthrough him نيسانُApril
مِنهُ فَكُلُّ زَمانٍ مِنهُ نيسانُ
And the gardens of beauty remain lovely
The gardens of beauty are ever in bloom
through him; every season, through him, is April.
Each season made verdant by their grace
وَالروحُand the soul لاnot تَرعَويdesists عَنfrom شُربِdrinking راحِthe wine of هَوىًlove
وَالروحُ لا تَرعَوي عَن شُربِ راحِ هَوىً
مِنfrom وَجنَتَيهِhis two cheeks لَهاfor it رَوحٌsolace وَرَيحانُand sweet basil
مِن وَجنَتَيهِ لَها رَوحٌ وَرَيحانُ
And the soul will not desist from drinking love's wine
The soul cannot be sated drinking the wine of passion
from his cheeks, where it finds solace and sweet basil.
For in her cheeks are the breath and fragrance of life
قاسٍharsh عَلىtoward عاشِقَيهِhis two lovers ساخِطٌdispleased فَمَتىso when
قاسٍ عَلى عاشِقَيهِ ساخِطٌ فَمَتى
تَكونُwill be ليfor me رَحمَةٌmercy مِنهُfrom him وَرِضوانُand favor
تَكونُ لي رَحمَةٌ مِنهُ وَرِضوانُ
He is harsh toward his two lovers, displeased—so when
Harsh and angry at his lovers, when will he show
will mercy and favor from him be mine?
Mercy and goodwill upon me?
فَرِدفُهُfor his rump وافِرٌample شَبعانُsated رَيّانُthirst-quenched
فَرِدفُهُ وافِرٌ شَبعانُ رَيّانُ
وَخَصرُهُand his waist ضامِرٌlean غَرثانُfamished ظَمآنُthirsty
وَخَصرُهُ ضامِرٌ غَرثانُ ظَمآنُ
For his rump is ample, sated and well-watered,
His thighs are fleshy, sated, moist
and his waist is lean, famished and thirsty.
His waist slender, needy, thirsty
إِذاwhen ذُؤابَتُهُhis tress ماجَتsways فَلاthen no عَجَبٌwonder
إِذا ذُؤابَتُهُ ماجَت فَلا عَجَبٌ
إِنif ماجَsways فَوقَabove كَثيبِa dune of الرَملِsand ثُعبانُa serpent
إِن ماجَ فَوقَ كَثيبِ الرَملِ ثُعبانُ
When his tress sways, it is no wonder
When his serpentine curls sway no wonder -
if a serpent sways above a dune of sand.
A snake sways atop the sandy dune
أَجفانُهُhis eyelids السودُthe black ones مِنهاfrom them البيضُthe white swords مُصلَتَةٌunsheathed
أَجفانُهُ السودُ مِنها البيضُ مُصلَتَةٌ
تِلكَthose السُيوفُthe swords لَهاfor them الأَجفانُthe eyelids أَجفانُscabbards
تِلكَ السُيوفُ لَها الأَجفانُ أَجفانُ
From his black eyelids, white swords are unsheathed;
His dark lashes, white cheeks are swords
those swords have eyelids for scabbards.
Indeed, swords themselves are lashes