أَلا بَشّروا بِالصُبحِ مِنّيَ باكيا

أَلا بَشّروا بِالصُبحِ مِنّيَ باكيا

أَضرَّ مَع اللَيلِ الطَويلِ بِهِ البُكا

أَضرَّ مَع اللَيلِ الطَويلِ بِهِ البُكا

Ah, give a weeper glad tidings of dawn on my behalf:

Tell them the morn, that from me comes, weeping,

Weeping, together with the long night, has worn him down.

All night, so long drawn, hath my weeping kept.

فَفي الصُبحِ للصَبِّ المُتيّيمِ راحَةٌ

فَفي الصُبحِ للصَبِّ المُتيّيمِ راحَةٌ

إِذا اللَيلُ أَجرى دَمعَهُ وَإِذا شَكا

إِذا اللَيلُ أَجرى دَمعَهُ وَإِذا شَكا

For at dawn there is relief for the lover enslaved by love,

To the bereft at daybreak is comfort brought.

When night has made his tears flow, and when he has lamented.

When grief the night-time channels and makes plaint.

وَلا عَجَبٌ أَن يُمسِكَ الصُبحُ عَبرَتي

وَلا عَجَبٌ أَن يُمسِكَ الصُبحُ عَبرَتي

فَلَم يَزَلِ الكافورُ لِلدَمِ مُمسِكا

فَلَم يَزَلِ الكافورُ لِلدَمِ مُمسِكا

And no wonder that dawn should hold back my tears,

Strange not my tears the dawn should make me keep.

For camphor has always staunched blood.

Camphor itself doth bind the flowing blood.