جُبِلتُ على أنّي إِذا شِمتُ بارِدا

جُبِلتُ على أنّي إِذا شِمتُ بارِدا

بِهِ البردُ يَعروني فَأَدنو مِنَ الهَلَكْ

بِهِ البردُ يَعروني فَأَدنو مِنَ الهَلَكْ

I am so made that whenever I glimpse a cold fellow,

I was created such that whenever I sense the cold

His chill comes over me, and I draw near to death.

The cold strips me bare, driving me closer to ruin

وَإِنْ بارِدٌ في الصّيفِ بِالوهمِ مَرَّ بي

وَإِنْ بارِدٌ في الصّيفِ بِالوهمِ مَرَّ بي

تَحَقّقتُ أَنّي بَينَ قارَةَ وَالنَّبكْ

تَحَقّقتُ أَنّي بَينَ قارَةَ وَالنَّبكْ

And if, in summer, a cold fellow passes by me even in imagination,

And if in summer a chill passes by me in my mind

I am certain that I am between Qara and al-Nabk.

I realize I stand between solid ice and melting