ميلو إِلى الدارِ مِن ذاتِ اللَمى ميلوا

ميلو إِلى الدارِ مِن ذاتِ اللَمى ميلوا

كَحلاءَ ما جالَ في أَجفانِها ميلُ

كَحلاءَ ما جالَ في أَجفانِها ميلُ

Turn toward the dwelling for the dark-lipped one's sake—turn!

Yearn for the abode from the one with soft hands, yearn

Naturally dark-eyed: no kohl-stick has passed over her eyelids.

Like the kohl that runs in her eyelids, yearn

هَذا بُكائي عَليهِما وَهِيَ حاضِرَةٌ

هَذا بُكائي عَليهِما وَهِيَ حاضِرَةٌ

لا فَرسَخٌ بَينَنا يَوماً وَلا ميلُ

لا فَرسَخٌ بَينَنا يَوماً وَلا ميلُ

This is my weeping over them both, while she is present,

This is my crying for them while she is present

With never a parasang between us, nor a mile.

No miles between us any day, no yearning

مَمشوقَةُ القَدِّ ما في شَنفِها خَرَسٌ

مَمشوقَةُ القَدِّ ما في شَنفِها خَرَسٌ

وَلا تَضُجُّ بِساقَيها الخَلاخيلُ

وَلا تَضُجُّ بِساقَيها الخَلاخيلُ

Slender of figure, her earring is never mute,

Her stride, nothing in it is silent

Nor do the anklets jangle around her calves.

Nor do the anklets on her feet jingle

كَأَنَّما قَدُّها رُمحٌ وَمَبسِمُها

كَأَنَّما قَدُّها رُمحٌ وَمَبسِمُها

صُبحٌ وَحَسبُكَ عَسّالٌ ومَعسولُ

صُبحٌ وَحَسبُكَ عَسّالٌ ومَعسولُ

It is as though her figure were a spear, and her smiling mouth

As if her stature is a spear and her smile

Were dawn—enough for you: a swaying spear and a honeyed mouth.

Dawn, and it’s enough you have a sweet as honey

في كُلِّ يَومٍ بِعَينَيها وَقامَتِها

في كُلِّ يَومٍ بِعَينَيها وَقامَتِها

دَمي وَدَمعي عَلى الأَطلالِ مَطلولُ

دَمي وَدَمعي عَلى الأَطلالِ مَطلولُ

Every day, through her eyes and her stature,

Every day, with her eyes and stature

My blood and tears are shed in vain upon the ruins.

My blood and tears on the ruins are spilled

إِن يَحسُدوني عَليها لا أَلومُهُمُ

إِن يَحسُدوني عَليها لا أَلومُهُمُ

لِذاكَ جارَ عَلى هابيلَ قابيلُ

لِذاكَ جارَ عَلى هابيلَ قابيلُ

If they envy me for her, I do not blame them:

If they envy me for her, I don’t blame them

For that reason, Cain wronged Abel.

That’s why Cain turned on Abel

إِنّي لَأَعشَقُ ما يَحويهِ بُرقُعُها

إِنّي لَأَعشَقُ ما يَحويهِ بُرقُعُها

وَلَستُ أُبغِضُ ما تَحوي السَراويلُ

وَلَستُ أُبغِضُ ما تَحوي السَراويلُ

I do indeed adore what her face-veil encloses,

I do love what her gown contains

And I do not hate what the trousers contain.

And I don’t hate what the pants contain

وَرُبَّ ساقٍ سَقانيها عَلى ظَمَأٍ

وَرُبَّ ساقٍ سَقانيها عَلى ظَمَأٍ

مُهَفهَفٍ مِثلَ خوطِ البانِ مَجدولُ

مُهَفهَفٍ مِثلَ خوطِ البانِ مَجدولُ

And many a cupbearer has given me wine in my thirst,

Many a leg of hers quenched my thirst

Slender as a bān-tree shoot, and finely formed.

Panting, like the lines of milk poured

حَتّى إِذا ما رَشَفنا راحَ راحَتِهِ

حَتّى إِذا ما رَشَفنا راحَ راحَتِهِ

وَهناً وَاِنقالَنا عَضٌ وَتَقبيلُ

وَهناً وَاِنقالَنا عَضٌ وَتَقبيلُ

Until, when we sipped the wine from his palm,

Until when we were sated, went her comfort

Late at night, with bites and kisses as our nibbles,

Weakness and much kissing

جاءَت عَلَيَّ يَدُ الساقي وَمُقلَتُهُ

جاءَت عَلَيَّ يَدُ الساقي وَمُقلَتُهُ

لَكِنَّني بِزِمامِ العَقلِ مَعقولُ

لَكِنَّني بِزِمامِ العَقلِ مَعقولُ

The cupbearer's hand and eye assailed me,

The cupbearer’s hand came upon me and his eyes

But I am held fast by the bridle of reason.

But I, the reins of reason restrain me

فَكيفَ أَخشى صُروفَ الدَهرِ إِن وَثَبَت

فَكيفَ أَخشى صُروفَ الدَهرِ إِن وَثَبَت

وَسَيفُ مَولايَ سَيفِ الدينِ مَسلولُ

وَسَيفُ مَولايَ سَيفِ الدينِ مَسلولُ

So how can I fear time's reversals if they spring at me,

So how do I fear the turns of fate, for steady

While the sword of my lord, Sayf al-Din, is drawn?

Is my lord’s sword, Sword of the Faith, unsheathed

مَلكُ عَنِ المَجدِ يَوماً لَيسَ يَشغَلُهُ

مَلكُ عَنِ المَجدِ يَوماً لَيسَ يَشغَلُهُ

كَأسٌ دِهاقٌ وَلا حَسناءُ عُطبولُ

كَأسٌ دِهاقٌ وَلا حَسناءُ عُطبولُ

A king never distracted from glory, even for a day,

A king not distracted from glory one day

By a brimming cup or a beautiful, long-necked woman.

By a rosy cup nor a lovely disheveled one

وَهَل يَقصُرُ عَن بَأسٍ وَعَن كَرَمٍ

وَهَل يَقصُرُ عَن بَأسٍ وَعَن كَرَمٍ

وَقَد تَجَمَّعُ فيهِ الطَولُ وَالطولُ

وَقَد تَجَمَّعُ فيهِ الطَولُ وَالطولُ

And does he fall short of valor or generosity,

Does he fall short of valor and generosity

When bounty and stature have come together in him?

When in him gather height and height