وَبِي شَادِنٌ لاَ يُخْطِىءُ الفتكَ لحظُه

وَبِي شَادِنٌ لاَ يُخْطِىءُ الفتكَ لحظُه

وَلاَ عجبٌ فَهْوَ السِّنَانُ المُقَوَّمُ

وَلاَ عجبٌ فَهْوَ السِّنَانُ المُقَوَّمُ

And I am smitten with a young gazelle whose glance never fails to slay.

My father wields a flawless striking blade,

And no wonder, for it is the straightened spearpoint.

No wonder, for he's the straightened spear.

تَظَلَّمَ لَمَّا قُمْتُ أشْكُوهُ ظَالِمًا

تَظَلَّمَ لَمَّا قُمْتُ أشْكُوهُ ظَالِمًا

فَوَاعَجَبًا مِنْ ظَالِمٍ يَتَظَلَّمُ

فَوَاعَجَبًا مِنْ ظَالِمٍ يَتَظَلَّمُ

He complained of being wronged when I rose to complain of his wrongdoing.

When I complained of his tyranny,

So how astonishing—a wrongdoer complaining of being wronged!

How strange for an oppressor to complain!

وَأيْنَعَ آسُ الصدغِ فِي نَارِ خَدّهِ

وَأيْنَعَ آسُ الصدغِ فِي نَارِ خَدّهِ

وَلَمْ أرَ آسًا يَانِعًا فِي جَهَنَّمُ

وَلَمْ أرَ آسًا يَانِعًا فِي جَهَنَّمُ

And the myrtle of his temple ripened in the fire of his cheek.

The apple of his cheek ripened in the fire of his wrath,

Yet I have never seen ripe myrtle in Hell.

Never did I see a ripe apple in hell.

لَهُ إذْ برَاهُ اللَّهُ في الحسنِ مُفْرَدٌ

لَهُ إذْ برَاهُ اللَّهُ في الحسنِ مُفْرَدٌ

ثَمَانِيَةٌ فَأعْجَبْ لِفَردٍ يُقَسَّمُ

ثَمَانِيَةٌ فَأعْجَبْ لِفَردٍ يُقَسَّمُ

He has—God having fashioned him peerless in beauty—

When Allah singled him out for beauty,

Eight graces: marvel at a single being divided!

Wondrous that one so unique can be divided!

قَوَامٌ وَخَصرٌ وَانْعِطَافٌ وَنَاظِرٌ

قَوَامٌ وَخَصرٌ وَانْعِطَافٌ وَنَاظِرٌ

وَخَدٌّ وَجِيدٌ وَالْتِفَاتٌ وَمَبْسَمُ

وَخَدٌّ وَجِيدٌ وَالْتِفَاتٌ وَمَبْسَمُ

A figure, a waist, a graceful bend, and an eye,

Stature, waist, grace of movement, gaze,

And a cheek, a neck, a turn of the head, and a smiling mouth.

Cheek, brow, glance, and smile.