إِنِّي طَلَبْتُ إِلى القِرْطاسِ يَحْمِلُ لي

إِنِّي طَلَبْتُ إِلى القِرْطاسِ يَحْمِلُ لي

بَعْضَ الَّذي بي إِلَيْكُمْ زَادَني قَلَقا

بَعْضَ الَّذي بي إِلَيْكُمْ زَادَني قَلَقا

Indeed, I asked the paper to carry for me

I asked paper to carry for me

some of what is within me to you; it heightened my anxiety.

Some of what with me towards you increased anxiety

فَظَلَّ يَرْعَدُ في كَفِّي فَأَوْهَمَني

فَظَلَّ يَرْعَدُ في كَفِّي فَأَوْهَمَني

بِأَنَّهُ لِلَّذي أَهْواهُ قَدْ عَشِقا

بِأَنَّهُ لِلَّذي أَهْواهُ قَدْ عَشِقا

So it kept trembling in my hand, making me imagine

So it trembled in my palm, giving me the illusion

that it had fallen in love with the one I love.

That for my beloved it had become impassioned

أَشْكُو إِلَيْهِ فَيَبْكِي حِينَ يَسْمَعُنِي

أَشْكُو إِلَيْهِ فَيَبْكِي حِينَ يَسْمَعُنِي

مِنْ رَحْمَتي وَلَوْ اسْتَنْطَقْتُهُ نَطَقا

مِنْ رَحْمَتي وَلَوْ اسْتَنْطَقْتُهُ نَطَقا

I complain to it, and it weeps when it hears me,

I complain to it, and it weeps when it hears me

out of pity for me; and were I to ask it to speak, it would speak.

Out of mercy, though if I made it speak it would be silent

حَتَّى إِذا عَلِمَ القِرْطاسُ ما كَتَبَتْ

حَتَّى إِذا عَلِمَ القِرْطاسُ ما كَتَبَتْ

كَفِّي مِنَ الشَّوْقِ في أَحْشائِهِ احْتَرَقا

كَفِّي مِنَ الشَّوْقِ في أَحْشائِهِ احْتَرَقا

Until, when the paper understood what had been written

Until when the paper knew what my hand had written

by my hand—words of longing within its entrails—it burned.

Of yearning in its guts, it was set aflame