شطَّ المزارُ ، فأينَ أنتِ ، وأينها

شطَّ المزارُ ، فأينَ أنتِ ، وأينها

وَردات رُوحِكِ من ربيعِ حدائقي

وَردات رُوحِكِ من ربيعِ حدائقي

The meeting place has grown distant—so where are you, and where are they,

The meadows have turned green, where are you, and where is she

the roses of your soul from the springtime of my gardens?

The flowers of your soul from the springtime of my gardens

أَوما شبعتِ من البعاد غريبةٌ

أَوما شبعتِ من البعاد غريبةٌ

أَنْ تجفُوَ الأرواحُ فيضَ رقائقي

أَنْ تجفُوَ الأرواحُ فيضَ رقائقي

And have you not had your fill of separation? It is strange

Or have you not had your fill of being far away, estranged one

that souls should shun the outpouring of my tender sentiments.

That the spirits would dry up, the tenderness of my being