لا تَنثَني في الرَوضِ أَغصانُ الشَجَر

لا تَنثَني في الرَوضِ أَغصانُ الشَجَر

حَتّى تُدَغدِغُها النَسائِمُ في السَحَر

حَتّى تُدَغدِغُها النَسائِمُ في السَحَر

The trees' branches do not bend in the garden

The branches in the meadow do not droop

The tree branches do not sway within the garden,

Until the breezes tickle them before dawn.

Until the morning breeze tickles them at dawn

Until the breezes tickle them at dawn,

وَأَنا كَذَلِكَ لا يُفارِقُني الضَجَر

وَأَنا كَذَلِكَ لا يُفارِقُني الضَجَر

حَتّى تُداعِبَ لِمَّتي بِيَدَيها

حَتّى تُداعِبَ لِمَّتي بِيَدَيها

And likewise, boredom does not leave me

And I am the same, boredom does not leave me

And I, likewise, am never free from anguish,

Until she caresses my locks with both her hands.

Until she strokes my cheek with her hands

Until she playfully caresses my locks with her hands.

الشَمسُ تُلقي في الصَباحِ حِبالَها

الشَمسُ تُلقي في الصَباحِ حِبالَها

وَتَبيتُ تَنظُرُ في الغَديرِ خَيالَها

وَتَبيتُ تَنظُرُ في الغَديرِ خَيالَها

The sun casts her ropes in the morning,

The sun in the morning casts its ropes

The sun casts down its ropes in the morning,

And spends the night gazing at her reflection in the pool.

And stays looking at its reflection in the pond

And lingers gazing at its reflection in the pool;

أَمّا أَنا فَإِذا وَقَفتُ حِيالَها

أَمّا أَنا فَإِذا وَقَفتُ حِيالَها

أَبصَرتُ نورَ الشَمسِ في خَدَّيها

أَبصَرتُ نورَ الشَمسِ في خَدَّيها

As for me, when I stand facing her,

As for me, when I stand before her

But as for me, when I stand before her,

I see the sun's light in her cheeks.

I see the sun's light on her cheeks

I behold the light of the sun upon her cheeks.

الطَودُ يَقرَءُ في السَماءِ الصافِيَه

الطَودُ يَقرَءُ في السَماءِ الصافِيَه

سَفراً جَميلٌ مَتنُهُ وَالحاشِيَه

سَفراً جَميلٌ مَتنُهُ وَالحاشِيَه

The towering mountain reads in the clear sky

The ibex reads in the clear sky

The towering mountain reads within the clear sky,

A book whose text and margin are beautiful.

A beautiful book, its text and margins

A book whose text and margins are beautiful;

أَمّا أَنا فَإِذا فَقَدتُ كِتابِيَه

أَمّا أَنا فَإِذا فَقَدتُ كِتابِيَه

أَتلو كِتابَ الحُبِّ في عَينَيها

أَتلو كِتابَ الحُبِّ في عَينَيها

As for me, when I lose my book,

As for me, when I lose my book

But as for me, if I have lost my book,

I read the book of love in her eyes.

I recite the book of love in her eyes

I recite the scripture of love within her eyes.

الطَيرُ إِن عَطِشَت وَلَجَّ بِها الظَما

الطَيرُ إِن عَطِشَت وَلَجَّ بِها الظَما

هَبَطَت إِلى الأَنهارِ مِن عَلوِ السَما

هَبَطَت إِلى الأَنهارِ مِن عَلوِ السَما

If the birds grow thirsty and thirst presses relentlessly upon them,

If the birds are thirsty and overwhelmed by thirst

If the birds grow thirsty and parchedness prevails,

They descend to the rivers from the heights of the sky.

They descend to the rivers from the height of the sky

They descend to the rivers from the high heavens;

أَمّا أَنا فَإِذا ظَمِئتُ فَإِنَّما

أَمّا أَنا فَإِذا ظَمِئتُ فَإِنَّما

ظَمَأي الشَديدُ إِلى لَمى شَفَتَيها

ظَمَأي الشَديدُ إِلى لَمى شَفَتَيها

As for me, when I thirst, it is only

As for me, when I am thirsty

But as for me, whenever I feel thirst,

For the dusky tint of her lips that I thirst so fiercely.

My severe thirst is for the moisture of her lips

My fierce thirst is only for the dark nectar of her lips.

النَدُّ يَطلُبُهُ الخَلائِقُ في الرُبى

النَدُّ يَطلُبُهُ الخَلائِقُ في الرُبى

بَينَ الوُرودِ وَفي نُسَيماتِ الصَبا

بَينَ الوُرودِ وَفي نُسَيماتِ الصَبا

People seek perfume on the hills,

Creatures seek dew

Creatures seek the scent of ambergris upon the hills,

Among the roses and in the gentle breezes of the east wind.

Among roses and in the breezes of dawn

Amongst the roses and within the gentle eastern breeze;

أَمّا أَنا فَأَلَذُّ مِن نَشرِ الكَبا

أَمّا أَنا فَأَلَذُّ مِن نَشرِ الكَبا

عِندي الَّذي قَد فاحَ مِن نَهدَيها

عِندي الَّذي قَد فاحَ مِن نَهدَيها

As for me, sweeter than the fragrance of incense

As for me, what is sweeter than nectar

But as for me, sweeter than the diffusion of incense,

To me is the scent that has wafted from her breasts.

Is what has diffused from her breasts

Is that fragrance which wafts from her bosom.

الراحُ تَصرُفُ ذا العَناءِ عَنِ العَنا

الراحُ تَصرُفُ ذا العَناءِ عَنِ العَنا

وَتَطيرُ بِالصُعلوكِ في جَوِّ المُنى

وَتَطيرُ بِالصُعلوكِ في جَوِّ المُنى

Wine turns the careworn away from care,

The wind turns this distress away from the meadows

Wine diverts the weary soul from its weariness,

And carries the pauper aloft through the sky of hopes,

And flies with the carefree in the air of wishes

And takes the pauper flying through the skies of dreams,

فَيَرى الكَواكِبَ تَحتَهُ أَمّا أَنا

فَيَرى الكَواكِبَ تَحتَهُ أَمّا أَنا

فَتَظَلُّ أَفكاري تَحومُ عَلَيها

فَتَظَلُّ أَفكاري تَحومُ عَلَيها

So he sees the stars beneath him; but as for me,

So he sees the stars beneath him. As for me

So he sees the stars beneath him; but as for me,

My thoughts keep hovering over her.

My thoughts hover above her

My thoughts remain forever circling around her.

فيها وَمِنها ذِلَّتي وَسَقامي

فيها وَمِنها ذِلَّتي وَسَقامي

وَبِها غَرامي القاتِلي وَهُيامي

وَبِها غَرامي القاتِلي وَهُيامي

In her, and from her, are my abasement and my sickness,

In her and from her are my humiliation and my illness

In her and from her spring my humility and sickness,

And through her come my fatal passion and my love-madness.

And my fatal obsession and madness

And in her lies my fatal passion and my wandering love;

أَشتاقُها في يَقظَتي وَمَنامي

أَشتاقُها في يَقظَتي وَمَنامي

وَأَطوَلَ شَوقِ المُستَهامِ إِلَيها

وَأَطوَلَ شَوقِ المُستَهامِ إِلَيها

I long for her in my waking and my sleep.

I long for her in my waking and my sleep

I yearn for her in my wakefulness and in my sleep,

And how long the lovelorn one's yearning for her!

And the most prolonged longing of the lovesick is for her

And oh, how long is the infatuated heart's yearning for her!