فَطالَ عَليَّ الليلُ حَتّى كَأَنَّهُ

فَطالَ عَليَّ الليلُ حَتّى كَأَنَّهُ

قَد اِمتثلَ الهَجرَ الَّذي لَيسَ يُقلِعُ

قَد اِمتثلَ الهَجرَ الَّذي لَيسَ يُقلِعُ

So the night dragged on for me, till it seemed as though it

The night stretched long upon me, as though

had followed the example of the separation that never ends.

It had complied with the estrangement that never ceases.

وَطالَ اِنتِظاري لِلصَّباح كَأَنَّني

وَطالَ اِنتِظاري لِلصَّباح كَأَنَّني

أُراقِبُ مِنهُ غائِباً لَيسَ يَرجِعُ

أُراقِبُ مِنهُ غائِباً لَيسَ يَرجِعُ

And my wait for morning grew long, as though I

And my wait for the dawn grew long, as though

were watching for it—an absent one who never returns.

I were awaiting one who is absent and will not return.

فَيا شعرَ من أَهواهُ هَل لَكَ آخرٌ

فَيا شعرَ من أَهواهُ هَل لَكَ آخرٌ

وَيا وَجهَ مَن أَهواهُ هَل لَكَ مَطلِعُ

وَيا وَجهَ مَن أَهواهُ هَل لَكَ مَطلِعُ

So, O hair of the one I love, do you have an end?

So O poetry of the one I love, have you an end?

And O face of the one I love, will you ever rise?

And O face of the one I love, have you a rising?