لِلَّهِ دولابٌ يَدورُ بِسَلسَلٍ

لِلَّهِ دولابٌ يَدورُ بِسَلسَلٍ

في رَوضَةٍ قَد أَينَعَت أَفنانا

في رَوضَةٍ قَد أَينَعَت أَفنانا

How wondrous a waterwheel turning in sweet, flowing water,

The wheel of God turns with a chain

in a garden whose boughs have flourished.

In a garden where flowers have bloomed

قَد طارَحَتهُ بِها الحَمائِمُ شَجوَها

قَد طارَحَتهُ بِها الحَمائِمُ شَجوَها

فَيُجيبُها وَيُرَجِّعُ الأَلحانا

فَيُجيبُها وَيُرَجِّعُ الأَلحانا

The doves there have shared their plaintive song with it,

Doves pour out their sorrows to it

so it answers them and echoes the melodies.

And it responds, returning their melodies

فَكَأَنَّهُ دَنِفٌ يَدورُ بِمَعهَدٍ

فَكَأَنَّهُ دَنِفٌ يَدورُ بِمَعهَدٍ

يَبكِي وَيَسأَلُ فيهِ عَمَّن بانا

يَبكِي وَيَسأَلُ فيهِ عَمَّن بانا

So it is like a lovesick man circling an old haunt,

It's as if it were a daffodil spinning with a rake

weeping and asking there about the one who has departed.

Crying and asking in it for one who is lost