جارِيَةٌ ما لِجِسمِها روحُ

جارِيَةٌ ما لِجِسمِها روحُ

بِالقَلبِ مِن حُبِّها تَباريحُ

بِالقَلبِ مِن حُبِّها تَباريحُ

A maiden whose body has no soul;

A doll without a soul

A maiden she is, yet her body holds no soul,

In the heart are agonies from loving her.

With a heart beating from her love

But in the heart, her love instills deep agony.

في كَفِّها طاقَةٌ تُشيرُ بِها

في كَفِّها طاقَةٌ تُشيرُ بِها

لِكُلِّ طيبٍ مِن طيبِها ريحُ

لِكُلِّ طيبٍ مِن طيبِها ريحُ

In her palm is a bouquet with which she gestures;

In her palm a gesture that points

She holds a bouquet in her palm to make a sign,

Every perfume draws its scent from her fragrance.

To every sweet scent from her sweetness

And from her fragrance, every perfume takes its breath.

سَأَشرَبُ الكَأسَ عَن إِشارَتِها

سَأَشرَبُ الكَأسَ عَن إِشارَتِها

وَدَمعُ عَيني في الخَدِّ مَسفوحُ

وَدَمعُ عَيني في الخَدِّ مَسفوحُ

I shall drink the cup at her signal,

I will drink the cup from her gesture

I shall drain the cup at the moment of her gesture,

While tears from my eye are shed upon my cheek.

And my tears on my cheek are spilled

While tears from my eyes spill freely on my cheek.