يَقولونَ عَن لَيلى عَيِيتَ وَإِنَّما

يَقولونَ عَن لَيلى عَيِيتَ وَإِنَّما

بِيَ اليَأسُ عَن لَيلى وَلَيسَ بِيَ الصَبرُ

بِيَ اليَأسُ عَن لَيلى وَلَيسَ بِيَ الصَبرُ

They say, “You have grown helpless over Layla,” yet it is only

They say of Layla, "You have despaired," but it is not

despair over Layla that is in me, not patience.

Despair of Layla that is in me, but lacking patience.

فَيا حَبَّذا لَيلى إِذا الدَهرُ صالِحٌ

فَيا حَبَّذا لَيلى إِذا الدَهرُ صالِحٌ

وَسُقيا لِلَيلى بَعدَ ما خَبُثَ الدَهرُ

وَسُقيا لِلَيلى بَعدَ ما خَبُثَ الدَهرُ

So, how lovely is Layla when fate is kind,

If only the days were right for you, O Layla,

and may rain bless Layla after fate has turned cruel.

And the times poured comfort for Layla after their evil.

وَإِنّي لَأَهواها وَإِنّي لَآيِسٌ

وَإِنّي لَأَهواها وَإِنّي لَآيِسٌ

هَوىً وَإِياسا كَيفَ ضَمَّهُما الصَدرُ

هَوىً وَإِياسا كَيفَ ضَمَّهُما الصَدرُ

And I indeed love her, and I am indeed without hope—

For I do love her, yet am hopeless -

love and despair: how has the breast held them both?

Such love and hopelessness, how can my heart contain them both?