غَشِيَتْ حِجْرَهَا دُموعيَ حُمْراً

غَشِيَتْ حِجْرَهَا دُموعيَ حُمْراً

وَهْيَ مِنْ لوعةِ الهوى تَتَحَدّرْ

وَهْيَ مِنْ لوعةِ الهوى تَتَحَدّرْ

My crimson tears covered her lap,

My tears stained her chamber red

and streamed down from the anguish of love.

As they trickled down in passionate sorrow

فَانزَوَتْ بِالشَّهيقِ خَوفاً وَظَنَّتْ

فَانزَوَتْ بِالشَّهيقِ خَوفاً وَظَنَّتْ

حَبَّ رُمَّانِ صَدرِها قد تَنَثَّر

حَبَّ رُمَّانِ صَدرِها قد تَنَثَّر

So she recoiled with a frightened gasp, and thought

She sighed in fear and thought

the pomegranate seeds of her bosom had scattered.

The pomegranates of love in her breast were scattered

قُلتُ عِندَ اختِبارِها بِيَدَيها

قُلتُ عِندَ اختِبارِها بِيَدَيها

ثَمَراً صانَهُنَّ جَيْبٌ مُزَرَّر

ثَمَراً صانَهُنَّ جَيْبٌ مُزَرَّر

I said, as she examined with both her hands

When I tested her with my hands

fruit protected by a buttoned neckline:

On fruits protected in an embroidered pocket

لَم يَكُنْ ما ظَنَنتِ حَقّاً ولَكِن

لَم يَكُنْ ما ظَنَنتِ حَقّاً ولَكِن

صبغةَ الوَجْدِ صِبْغُ دمْعيَ أَحمَر

صبغةَ الوَجْدِ صِبْغُ دمْعيَ أَحمَر

“What you thought was not true; rather,

What you supposed was not true

the hue of my tears is red with passion’s dye.”

But the dye of passion has colored my tears red