فَلا النَفسُ ملتها وَلا العَينُ تَنتَهي

فَلا النَفسُ ملتها وَلا العَينُ تَنتَهي

اِلَيها سِوى في الطَرف عَنها فَتَرجِع

اِلَيها سِوى في الطَرف عَنها فَتَرجِع

So the soul has not tired of her, nor does the eye cease

The soul finds no rest from thoughts of you

Gazing at her, save to glance away from her and then return.

Nor do my eyes ever turn from gazing at you

رَأَتها فَما تَرتَد عَنها سَآمَة

رَأَتها فَما تَرتَد عَنها سَآمَة

تَرى بَدلاً مِنها بِهِ النَفسُ تَقنَع

تَرى بَدلاً مِنها بِهِ النَفسُ تَقنَع

It has seen her and does not turn away from her in weariness,

Though at a glance they turn away, they quickly return

To see another in her place with whom the soul might be content.

To find contentment nowhere else but in you