وَخَمِيلَةٍand a leafy grove بَكَرَتْrose early سَمَاوَةُthe lofty canopy أَيْكِهاof its woodland
وَخَمِيلَةٍ بَكَرَتْ سَمَاوَةُ أَيْكِها
تَحْمِيkeeps off الْهَجِيرَthe noonday heat عَنِfrom النُّفُوسِthe souls وَتَدْرَأُand repels
تَحْمِي الْهَجِيرَ عَنِ النُّفُوسِ وَتَدْرَأُ
And a leafy grove whose treetop canopy rose early,
O garden with virgin plants, Samawa's shelter,
Shielding souls from noonday heat and warding it off.
Protecting souls from grief, averting evil,
تَسْتَنُّcourses فيهاthrough it الرِّيحُthe wind بَينَamong مَنابِتٍstands of plants
تَسْتَنُّ فيها الرِّيحُ بَينَ مَنابِتٍ
خَضْراءَgreen يَغْشاهاenters it الْجَبَانُthe coward فَيَجْرُؤُand so grows bold
خَضْراءَ يَغْشاها الْجَبَانُ فَيَجْرُؤُ
The wind courses through it among stands
Where the wind whistles amidst green shoots
Of green growth; the coward enters it and grows bold.
Covered by clouds, gaining courage,
تَسْتَوقِفُhold fast الأَبْصَارَthe eyes فيin غُدْرانِهاits pools
تَسْتَوقِفُ الأَبْصَارَ في غُدْرانِها
صُوَرٌimages تَزُولُvanish مَعَwith النَّسِيمِthe breeze وَتَطْرَأُand appear
صُوَرٌ تَزُولُ مَعَ النَّسِيمِ وَتَطْرَأُ
In its pools, eyes are held fast
Capturing gazes with its blossoms
By images that vanish with the breeze and reappear.
Like images that disappear with the breeze and recur,
يَنْسَىforgets بهاin it الْمَوْتُورُthe aggrieved man ماwhat فيin نَفْسِهِhis soul
يَنْسَى بها الْمَوْتُورُ ما في نَفْسِهِ
طَرَبَاًin rapture وَيَنزِلُهاand lodges in it السَّقِيمُthe sick man فَيَبْرَأُand so recovers
طَرَبَاً وَيَنزِلُها السَّقِيمُ فَيَبْرَأُ
There the aggrieved man forgets what is in his soul,
Where the lovesick forget their inner sorrow,
In rapture; the sick man lodges there and is healed.
Healed by rapture, and the sick recover and are cured,
فَالْوُرْقُso the gray doves تَهْتِفُcall وَالرَّبارِبُand the herds of gazelles تَرْتَعِيgraze
فَالْوُرْقُ تَهْتِفُ وَالرَّبارِبُ تَرْتَعِي
وَالْعِينُand the wide-eyed wild cattle تَبْغَمُlow وَالبَلابِلُand the bulbuls تَصْرَأُchirp
وَالْعِينُ تَبْغَمُ وَالبَلابِلُ تَصْرَأُ
So the gray doves call, and herds of gazelles graze,
Leaves murmur, birds chirp,
And the wide-eyed wild cattle low, and the bulbuls chirp.
Eyes beam, and nightingales warble,
فَنَباتُهاso its vegetation عَمّاfrom whatever يَعِيبُblemishes مُنَزَّهٌis free
فَنَباتُها عَمّا يَعِيبُ مُنَزَّهٌ
وَهَواؤُهَاand its air مِمّاof whatever يَشِينُtaints مُبَرَّأُis untainted
وَهَواؤُهَا مِمّا يَشِينُ مُبَرَّأُ
So its vegetation is free of every blemish,
Its plants and air untouched by flaws,
And its air is clear of all that taints.
A grove traveled by winds to graze
شَجْرَاءُa wooded grove تَسْلُكُهاpasses through it السَّمُومُthe scorching wind فَتَغْتَدِيand so becomes
شَجْرَاءُ تَسْلُكُها السَّمُومُ فَتَغْتَدِي
رَهْواًcalm وَيَسْكُنُهاand settles in it الْهَجِيرُthe noonday heat فَيَمْرَأُand so becomes pleasant
رَهْواً وَيَسْكُنُها الْهَجِيرُ فَيَمْرَأُ
A wooded grove: the scorching wind passes through it and becomes
Where gazelles rest and are satisfied,
Calm; noonday heat settles in it and turns pleasant.
Spring opened in it schools of joy,
فَتَحَopened الرَّبِيعُspring بِهاin it مَدَارِسَschools بَهْجَةٍof delight
فَتَحَ الرَّبِيعُ بِها مَدَارِسَ بَهْجَةٍ
لِلْعَينِfor the eye فِيهاin it بَهْجَةٌdelight لاnever تَضْرَأُfades
لِلْعَينِ فِيها بَهْجَةٌ لا تَضْرَأُ
Spring has opened within it schools of delight,
A joy for the eye that knows no end,
There the eye finds delight that never fades.
The wind writes, the stream a scroll,
فَالرِّيحُso the wind تكتبُwrites وَالْغَدِيرُand the pool صَحِيفَةٌa page
فَالرِّيحُ تكتبُ وَالْغَدِيرُ صَحِيفَةٌ
وَالسُحْبُand the clouds تَنْقُطُadd dots وَالحَمائِمُand the doves تَقْرَأُread
وَالسُحْبُ تَنْقُطُ وَالحَمائِمُ تَقْرَأُ
So the wind writes, and the pool is a page,
Clouds sprinkle, and doves read,
And the clouds add dots, and the doves read.
Images pointing to a Wise Maker,
صُوَرٌimages تَدُلُّpoint عَلَىto حَكِيمٍa wise one صانِعٍa maker
صُوَرٌ تَدُلُّ عَلَى حَكِيمٍ صانِعٍ
وَاللهُand God يَخْلُقُcreates ماwhat يَشَاءُHe wills وَيَبْرَأُand brings into being
وَاللهُ يَخْلُقُ ما يَشَاءُ وَيَبْرَأُ
Images that point to a wise Maker,
God creates what He wills, and cures.
And God creates what He wills and brings it into being.
Partial English translation: 19 of 20 Arabic lines translated.