وَلَيلٍ في كَواكِبِهِ حِرانٌ

وَلَيلٍ في كَواكِبِهِ حِرانٌ

فَلَيسَ لِطولِ مُدَّتِهِ اِنقِضاءُ

فَلَيسَ لِطولِ مُدَّتِهِ اِنقِضاءُ

And a night whose stars stand obstinately still—

A night whose stars are in turmoil

So there is no end to its long duration.

So endless it seems it won’t fade away

عَدِمتُ مَحاسِنَ الإِصباحِ فيهِ

عَدِمتُ مَحاسِنَ الإِصباحِ فيهِ

كَأَنَّ الصُبحَ جودٌ أَو وَفاءُ

كَأَنَّ الصُبحَ جودٌ أَو وَفاءُ

In it I lacked the beauties of daybreak,

The beauties of dawn in it I missed

As though dawn were generosity or fidelity.

As if the morn was grace or loyalty