وَما نَفحُ رَوضٍ ذي أَقاحٍ وَحَنوَةٍ

وَما نَفحُ رَوضٍ ذي أَقاحٍ وَحَنوَةٍ

وَذي وَرَقٍ مِن قُلَّةِ الحَزنِ عازِبِ

وَذي وَرَقٍ مِن قُلَّةِ الحَزنِ عازِبِ

And neither the fragrance of a meadow with daisies and ḥanwa,

Nor fragrant meadow where sadness seldom strays,

And with foliage, remote on the crest of rugged uplands,

Nor passing wind that whispers as it sways,

وَلا ريحُ فَغوٍ أَو خُزامى وَحَنوَةٍ

وَلا ريحُ فَغوٍ أَو خُزامى وَحَنوَةٍ

أَرَشَّت عَلَيها سارِياتُ السَحائِبِ

أَرَشَّت عَلَيها سارِياتُ السَحائِبِ

Nor the scent of henna blossoms, or lavender and ḥanwa,

Can match her gentle breath, whose sweet perfume

Upon which night-travelling clouds have sprinkled rain,

Spreads all around her from her cheek's red bloom.

بِأَطيَبَ مِن فيها إِذا ما تَقَلَّبَت

بِأَطيَبَ مِن فيها إِذا ما تَقَلَّبَت

مَعَ اللَيلِ وَسَنى جانِباً بَعدَ جانِبِ

مَعَ اللَيلِ وَسَنى جانِباً بَعدَ جانِبِ

Is sweeter than her mouth when she turns,

Drowsy in the night, from side to side.