يُسائِلُني صَديقي عَن كِتابٍ

يُسائِلُني صَديقي عَن كِتابٍ

فَأُنكِرُهُ وَأَشغَلُ عَنهُ بالي

فَأُنكِرُهُ وَأَشغَلُ عَنهُ بالي

My friend asks me about a book,

My friend asks me about a book

So I deny it and turn my mind away from it.

I deny it and distract him from it with nonsense

وَأَزعُمُ أَنَّهُ خَطٌّ سَقيمٌ

وَأَزعُمُ أَنَّهُ خَطٌّ سَقيمٌ

وَطِرسٌ دارِسٌ كَالشِنَّ بالي

وَطِرسٌ دارِسٌ كَالشِنَّ بالي

And claim that its handwriting is poor,

And claim it is flawed handwriting

And its parchment faded, worn like an old waterskin,

And solid rock like glass with flaws

مَخافَةَ أَن أَرومَ لَهُ ارتِجاعاً

مَخافَةَ أَن أَرومَ لَهُ ارتِجاعاً

فَيَقطَعَ دونَهُ حَبلَ الوِصالِ

فَيَقطَعَ دونَهُ حَبلَ الوِصالِ

For fear that, should I seek to reclaim it,

Fearing that if I admit to it

He might sever the cord of friendship rather than yield it.

He would sever the rope of connection

وَلَستُ بِواصِفٍ يَوماً حَبيباً

وَلَستُ بِواصِفٍ يَوماً حَبيباً

أُعَرِّضُهُ لِأَهواءِ الرِجالِ

أُعَرِّضُهُ لِأَهواءِ الرِجالِ

Nor will I ever describe a beloved,

I cannot one day describe a beloved

Exposing him to the desires of men.

And expose him to the whims of men