بِأَبي قَوامك وَالدّلالُ يُميلُهُ

بِأَبي قَوامك وَالدّلالُ يُميلُهُ

وَبِهِ القُلوبُ مِنَ الهَوى تَتَمَسّكُ

وَبِهِ القُلوبُ مِنَ الهَوى تَتَمَسّكُ

May my father be a ransom for your figure; coquetry makes it sway.

By your beauty swaying, desire leans towards it,

And hearts cling to it out of love.

And by it hearts cling to passionate love.

إِنّ الغُصونَ لَها الهواءُ مُحرِّكٌ

إِنّ الغُصونَ لَها الهواءُ مُحرِّكٌ

وَهَوى قَوامِك لِلقُلوبِ مُحرّكُ

وَهَوى قَوامِك لِلقُلوبِ مُحرّكُ

Indeed, the air sets the branches in motion,

For the branches, the air sets them in motion,

And love for your figure sets hearts in motion.

And the desire for your posture sets hearts in motion.