ياO عاذِليmy reproacher أَينَwhere سَمعيmy hearing مِنكَfrom you والعَذلand reproach
يا عاذِلي أَينَ سَمعي مِنكَ والعَذل
أَسلوهُshall I forget him? كَلّاcertainly not وَطَرفٍby an eye زانَهُadorned it الكَحلُthe kohl
أَسلوهُ كَلّا وَطَرفٍ زانَهُ الكَحلُ
O my reproacher, what ear have I for you and reproach?
O you who blame me, where is your hearing of me and blame?
Forget him? Never—by an eye adorned with kohl!
Ask it, though every eyelid it has adorned kohl.
إِنif هِمتُI am love-mad وَجداًwith longing فَماthen not قَلبيmy heart بِأَوَّلِthe first مَنthose whom
إِن هِمتُ وَجداً فَما قَلبي بِأَوَّلِ مَن
أَودَتbrought ruin بِهِupon him الوَجناتُthe cheeks الحُمرُred وَالمُقَلُand the eyes
أَودَت بِهِ الوَجناتُ الحُمرُ وَالمُقَلُ
If I am mad with longing, my heart is not the first of those
If I intend passion, my heart is not with the first one
Whom red cheeks and eyes have brought to ruin.
Whose cheeks blushed red and languished.
حَدِّثspeak بِذِكرِwith mention of صَباباتيmy passionate longings فَلاso no عَجبٌwonder
حَدِّث بِذِكرِ صَباباتي فَلا عَجبٌ
أَناI الَّذيthe one who بِغَراميby my passion يَضرِبُis cited المَثَلُthe proverb
أَنا الَّذي بِغَرامي يَضرِبُ المَثَلُ
Speak of my passionate longings; it is no wonder:
Speak of the memory of my youths, no wonder
I am the one whose passion is proverbial.
I who by my passion proverb is struck.
يَمشيhe walks فَتَفعَلُand so does بِالعُشّاقِto lovers قامَتُهُhis stature
يَمشي فَتَفعَلُ بِالعُشّاقِ قامَتُهُ
ماwhat لَيسَdoes not تَفعَلُهُdo it العَسّالَةَthe quivering spears الذُبلُthe slender ones
ما لَيسَ تَفعَلُهُ العَسّالَةَ الذُبلُ
He walks, and his stature does to lovers
He walks, so his stature treats lovers
What slender, quivering spears cannot do.
As the withered juiceless date palm treats them not.
أَزرىoutshone عَلىover الظَبيthe gazelle جيداًin neck وَهوَwhile he مُلتَفِتٌis turning
أَزرى عَلى الظَبي جيداً وَهوَ مُلتَفِتٌ
وأخجَلand shamed الغُصنَthe bough قَدّاًin stature وَهوَwhile he مُعتَدِلُis upright
وأخجَل الغُصنَ قَدّاً وَهوَ مُعتَدِلُ
He outshines the gazelle with his neck as he turns,
I visit the gazelle while she turns to look
And shames the bough with his figure as he stands upright.
And make the bough feel shy as she stands balanced.
يَدنواhe draws near فَيَرحبُand so grows spacious بيfor me سُمّthe eye الخِياطِof the needle كَماjust as
يَدنوا فَيَرحبُ بي سُمّ الخِياطِ كَما
يَضيقُgrows narrow بيaround me حينَwhen يَنأىhe draws away السَهلُthe plain وَالجَبلُand the mountain
يَضيقُ بي حينَ يَنأى السَهلُ وَالجَبلُ
He draws near, and the needle's eye grows spacious for me, just as
He approaches so the slim thread of the tailor welcomes me
The plain and the mountain close in on me when he draws away.
As the plain and the mountain narrow for me when distant.