وَلا وَالهَوى ما الإِلفُ زارَ عَلى النَوى

وَلا وَالهَوى ما الإِلفُ زارَ عَلى النَوى

يَجوبُ إِلَيَّ اللَيلَ في البَلَدِ القَفرِ

يَجوبُ إِلَيَّ اللَيلَ في البَلَدِ القَفرِ

No, by love, my beloved did not visit despite the distance,

Nor is it love when familiarity no longer dwells in the abode of intimacy,

Traversing the night to reach me in the desolate land.

Yet it roams to me in the night in the desolate country,

وَلَكِنَّهُ طَيفٌ أَقامَ مِثالَهُ

وَلَكِنَّهُ طَيفٌ أَقامَ مِثالَهُ

لِعَينَيَّ في نَومي خَواطِرُ مِن فِكري

لِعَينَيَّ في نَومي خَواطِرُ مِن فِكري

But it was a phantom whose image was conjured

But it is a phantom that presents its image

Before my eyes in my sleep by thoughts from my mind.

To my eyes in my sleep - thoughts from my reflections.