لَقَد ذَرَفَت عَيني وَطالَ سُفوحُها

لَقَد ذَرَفَت عَيني وَطالَ سُفوحُها

وَأَصبَحَ مِن نَفسي سَقيماً صَحيحُها

وَأَصبَحَ مِن نَفسي سَقيماً صَحيحُها

My eye has indeed shed tears, and its weeping has lasted long.

My eyes did shed tears and their streams flowed long,

And the healthy part of my soul has grown sick.

And my soul became sickly though my body seemed strong,

أَلا لَيتَنا نَحيا جَميعاً وَإِن نَمُت

أَلا لَيتَنا نَحيا جَميعاً وَإِن نَمُت

يُجاوِرُ في المَوتى ضَريحي ضَريحُها

يُجاوِرُ في المَوتى ضَريحي ضَريحُها

Oh, would that we might live together, and if we die,

Would that we lived together, e'en if death should come,

her grave might lie beside mine among the dead.

That my tomb next to hers in the grave should be lain,

فَما أَنا في طولِ الحَياةِ بِراغِبٍ

فَما أَنا في طولِ الحَياةِ بِراغِبٍ

إِذا قيلَ قَد سوّي عَلَيها صَفيحُها

إِذا قيلَ قَد سوّي عَلَيها صَفيحُها

For I have no desire for a long life

For I have no joy in living through life without her,

when it is said her stone slabs have been laid flat over her.

When they say she's now covered with sand and stone,

أَظَلُّ نَهاري مُستَهاماً وَيَلتَقي

أَظَلُّ نَهاري مُستَهاماً وَيَلتَقي

مَعَ اللَيلِ روحي في المَنامِ وَروحُها

مَعَ اللَيلِ روحي في المَنامِ وَروحُها

All day I remain love-stricken, and there meet

I spend my days wandering, grief-stricken, alone,

at night, in dreams, my soul and hers.

And my soul meets with her soul nightly in dreamland,

فَهَل لِيَ في كِتمانِ حُبِّيَ راحَةٌ

فَهَل لِيَ في كِتمانِ حُبِّيَ راحَةٌ

وَهَل تَنفَعَنّي بَوحَةٌ لَو أَبوحُها

وَهَل تَنفَعَنّي بَوحَةٌ لَو أَبوحُها

Is there, then, any solace for me in concealing my love?

Can silence and patience bring comfort at all?

And would an avowal help me if I voiced it?

Can pouring my grief out my sorrow forestall?