فَيا لَيتَ أَنّي حَيثُ تَدنو مَنيَّتي

فَيا لَيتَ أَنّي حَيثُ تَدنو مَنيَّتي

شَمَمتُ الَّذي ما بَينَ عَينَيكِ وَالفَمِ

شَمَمتُ الَّذي ما بَينَ عَينَيكِ وَالفَمِ

Oh, would that I, when my death draws near,

Oh how I wish when death comes near

might smell what lies between your eyes and mouth.

I'd smell your breath between your lips so dear

وَلَيتَ طَهوري كانَ ريقَكِ كُلَّهُ

وَلَيتَ طَهوري كانَ ريقَكِ كُلَّهُ

وَلَيتَ حَنوطي مِن مُشاشِكِ وَالدَمِ

وَلَيتَ حَنوطي مِن مُشاشِكِ وَالدَمِ

And would that my cleansing water were entirely your saliva,

How I wish your saliva was my ablution

and would that my burial perfume came from your soft bone-ends and blood.

Your kisses my perfume, your blood my lotion

وَلَيتَ سُلَيمى في المَماتِ ضَجيعَتي

وَلَيتَ سُلَيمى في المَماتِ ضَجيعَتي

هُنالِكَ أَم في جَنَّةٍ أَم جَهَنَّمِ

هُنالِكَ أَم في جَنَّةٍ أَم جَهَنَّمِ

And would that Sulayma were my bedfellow in death,

If only Suleima was next to me lying dead

there, or in Paradise, or in Hell.

Be it heaven or hell where I rested my head