عَلَيَّ أَلِيَّةٌ عَتُقَت قَديماً

عَلَيَّ أَلِيَّةٌ عَتُقَت قَديماً

فَلَيسَ لَها وَإِن طُلِبَت مَرامُ

فَلَيسَ لَها وَإِن طُلِبَت مَرامُ

An oath binds me, grown ancient long ago;

I am free, long ago unbound,

there is no way to break it, however one may try:

And roam where I please, my will is my own.

بِأَنَّ الغَدرَ قَد عَلِمَت مَعَدٌّ

بِأَنَّ الغَدرَ قَد عَلِمَت مَعَدٌّ

عَلَيَّ وَجارَتي مِنّي حَرامُ

عَلَيَّ وَجارَتي مِنّي حَرامُ

that treachery, as Maʿadd well knows,

Betrayal I've learned is the wont of a friend,

is forbidden to me, and so is my female neighbor.

On me or my neighbor no evil descend.

وَلَيسَ بِطارِقِ الجاراتِ مِنّي

وَلَيسَ بِطارِقِ الجاراتِ مِنّي

ذُبابٌ لا يُنيمُ وَلا يَنامُ

ذُبابٌ لا يُنيمُ وَلا يَنامُ

Nor does a night caller of mine visit neighboring women—

I tap not at night on a neighbor's door,

a fly that lets none sleep and never sleeps.

Disturbing their peace with my clatter and roar.

وَلَستُ بِأَطلَسِ الثَوبَينِ يُصبي

وَلَستُ بِأَطلَسِ الثَوبَينِ يُصبي

حَليلَتَهُ إِذا هَجَعَ النِيامُ

حَليلَتَهُ إِذا هَجَعَ النِيامُ

Nor am I a man in two shabby garments who entices

No patchwork cloak have I, shabby and worn,

his wife when the sleepers have fallen asleep.

That shamelessly hangs tattered and torn.

يُقَرِّعُ لِلرِجالِ إِذا أَتَوهُ

يُقَرِّعُ لِلرِجالِ إِذا أَتَوهُ

وَلِلنِسوانِ إِن جِئنَ السَلامُ

وَلِلنِسوانِ إِن جِئنَ السَلامُ

He rebukes men when they come to him,

I court not the women nor carouse with the men,

but for women, if they come, there is a greeting of peace.

But peaceably live and leave strangers their ken.

وَلَستُ بِخابِئٍ أَبَداً طَعاماً

وَلَستُ بِخابِئٍ أَبَداً طَعاماً

حِذارَ غَدٍ لِكُلِّ غَدٍ طَعامُ

حِذارَ غَدٍ لِكُلِّ غَدٍ طَعامُ

Nor do I ever hide food away

I hoard not my food, for each new day anew,

for fear of tomorrow: every tomorrow has food.

Provides me my fill, as I trust it to do.