ليلىmy night طولa long stretch ماnot لهit has آخرan end
ليلى طول ما له آخر
يعمengulfs قلبيmy heart بحرهits sea الزاخرsurging
يعم قلبي بحره الزاخر
My night stretches on without end;
As long as Layla’s nights endure
Its surging sea engulfs my heart.
My heart with passion overflows
ومقلتيand my eye ترعىwatches نجومstars السماthe sky
ومقلتي ترعى نجوم السما
ينهلpours forth منهاfrom it دمعىmy tears الحائرbewildered
ينهل منها دمعى الحائر
And my eye watches the stars of the sky;
And my eyes gaze at starry skies
From it my bewildered tears pour.
From which my wandering tears flow
أأكتمshall I conceal? الوجدthe passion الذيthat هاجهaroused it
أأكتم الوجد الذي هاجه
منهاfrom her ابتسامa smile حسنهits beauty جائرtyrannical
منها ابتسام حسنه جائر
Shall I conceal the passion stirred
Shall I conceal the love that stirs
By a smile of hers whose beauty is tyrannical?
When her alluring smile begins?
إنif أنشدتshe sings يصغىlistens attentively إليهاto her الهوىlove
إن أنشدت يصغى إليها الهوى
كأنهاas though she were فيin روضةa garden طائرa bird
كأنها في روضة طائر
If she sings, love listens to her,
When love poems I recite to her
As though she were a bird in a garden.
She listens as if in a garden
فمa mouth هوit is النبعthe spring الذيthat يستقىis drawn
فم هو النبع الذي يستقى
منهfrom it الهوىlove والشعرand poetry والخاطرand thought
منه الهوى والشعر والخاطر
A mouth—the spring from which are drawn
What is the spring from which I draw
Love, poetry, and thought.
Passion, poetry, thoughts that stir?
تصدنىshe repels me عنهاfrom her فلاyet not أنثنىI yield
تصدنى عنها فلا أنثنى
وقدand already رمانيhas struck me لحظهاher glance الفاترlanguid
وقد رماني لحظها الفاتر
She turns me away from her, yet I do not yield,
She bars my way, I cannot turn
And her languid glance has already struck me.
Though her indifferent glances spur
فإنand if نستshe forgets منthe one who عاشlived فيin حبهاlove for her
فإن نست من عاش في حبها
عبداas a slave فأتىthen came للهوىof love ذاكرmindful
عبدا فأتى للهوى ذاكر
And if she forgets the one who lived in love for her
If she forgets a soul who loved
As a slave—then came one mindful of love.
A slave whose heart love made concur
نصيبيmy lot الهجرانabandonment فيin حبهاloving her
نصيبي الهجران في حبها
ياشدoh, how harsh ماwhat يلقىendures الفتىthe young man الشاعرthe poet
ياشد ما يلقى الفتى الشاعر
My lot in loving her is abandonment;
My fate is estrangement in her love
How harsh is what the young poet endures!
More than what poets undergo