مِنْfrom مائسِswaying البانِthe moringa tree قُدّwas fashioned القَدُّthe figure واتّسَقاand became well-proportioned
مِنْ مائسِ البانِ قُدّ القَدُّ واتّسَقا
قدٌّa figure تَميّدَswayed سُبْحانَglory be to الذيthe One who خَلَقاcreated
قدٌّ تَميّدَ سُبْحانَ الذي خَلَقا
From the swaying moringa her figure was fashioned and finely proportioned.
A figure that swayed—glory be to Him who created it!
مِنْfrom ناعمِtender الوردِthe rose حازَgained الخَدُّthe cheek رقَّتَهُits softness
مِنْ ناعمِ الوردِ حازَ الخَدُّ رقَّتَهُ
والجيدُand the neck منfrom فوْحِهِits fragrance قدindeed عبَّdrank deeply واعتَبَقاand became fragrant
والجيدُ من فوْحِهِ قد عبَّ واعتَبَقا
From the tender rose her cheek took its softness.
And her neck has drunk deep of its scent and grown fragrant.
مِنْfrom رفّةa flutter of الجفْنthe eyelid سيفُthe sword of اللحْظِthe glance باغَتَنيambushed me
مِنْ رفّة الجفْن سيفُ اللحْظِ باغَتَني
ثُمّthen اجْتَبانيchose me لهُfor itself غمدًاa sheath مُذِsince انْطلَقاsprang forth
ثُمّ اجْتَباني لهُ غمدًا مُذِ انْطلَقا
At a flutter of her eyelid, the sword of her glance took me unawares.
Then it chose me as its sheath from the moment it sprang forth.
فيin فاتنِenchanting الوجْهِthe face أرْسىestablished الحُسْنُbeauty كَعْبتَهits Kaaba
في فاتنِ الوجْهِ أرْسى الحُسْنُ كَعْبتَه
والنورand light حجmade pilgrimage إليهِto it فاكْتسىand so was clothed ألَقاradiance
والنور حج إليهِ فاكْتسى ألَقا
In her enchanting face, Beauty established its Kaaba.
And light made pilgrimage to it, and it was robed in radiance.
فيin أقْدسِthe holiest النَّبْضِthe heartbeat بِنتُdaughter القَلْبِthe heart مَسْكَنُهاher dwelling
في أقْدسِ النَّبْضِ بِنتُ القَلْبِ مَسْكَنُها
لَهاfor her ومِنْهاand from her وفيهاand within her الخَفْقُthe heartbeat قَدْindeed خَفَقاthrobbed
لَها ومِنْها وفيها الخَفْقُ قَدْ خَفَقا
In the holiest heartbeat, the heart's daughter has her home.
For her, from her, and within her, the pulse has throbbed.
فيin الثّغْرِthe lips بارقةٌa gleam يَشْتاقهاlongs for it نظَريmy gaze
في الثّغْرِ بارقةٌ يَشْتاقها نظَري
شوقَthe longing of العِطاشِthe thirsty لغيثٍfor rain سُحَّwas poured down وانْدَلقاand gushed forth
شوقَ العِطاشِ لغيثٍ سُحَّ وانْدَلقا
On her lips is a gleam my gaze longs for,
With the longing of the thirsty for rain poured down and gushing forth.
مِعْطيرةٌrichly fragrant وَنسيمُand a breeze of الطِّيْبِperfume هالَتُهاher halo
مِعْطيرةٌ وَنسيمُ الطِّيْبِ هالَتُها
تضوَّعتْshe exuded fragrance ليْلَكًاlilac قدindeed طارحَcourted الحَبَقاthe basil
تضوَّعتْ ليْلَكًا قد طارحَ الحَبَقا
She is richly fragrant; a perfumed breeze is her halo.
She exuded the scent of lilac that had courted basil.
وابْلَجَّand shone brightly فيهاin her جَبينٌa brow مُبْهرٌdazzling فَضَوىand so glowed
وابْلَجَّ فيها جَبينٌ مُبْهرٌ فَضَوى
كَفَجْرِlike the dawn of صُبْحٍmorning بُعيْدَjust after الدُّجْنَةِthe darkness انْبثقاbroke forth
كَفَجْرِ صُبْحٍ بُعيْدَ الدُّجْنَةِ انْبثقا
And her dazzling brow shone forth and glowed,
Like morning's dawn breaking just after the darkness.
كُنْتُI was الفقيدَthe lost one الّذيwho يَسْريcourses بهِthrough him وجَعٌpain
كُنْتُ الفقيدَ الّذي يَسْري بهِ وجَعٌ
صِرْتُI became الوَحيدَthe lonely one الذيwho قدindeed أرّقَmade sleepless الأرَقاsleeplessness
صِرْتُ الوَحيدَ الذي قد أرّقَ الأرَقا
I was the lost one, through whom pain coursed;
I became the lonely one who made sleeplessness itself sleepless.
كُنْتُI was الشّريدَthe wanderer بِلاwithout أهْلٍfamily ولاnor عَضُدٍsupport
كُنْتُ الشّريدَ بِلا أهْلٍ ولا عَضُدٍ
صِرْتُI became الطّريدَthe outcast الذيwho قَدْindeed أقلقَmade anxious القَلَقاanxiety
صِرْتُ الطّريدَ الذي قَدْ أقلقَ القَلَقا
I was the wanderer, with neither family nor support;
I became the outcast who made anxiety itself anxious.
كُنْتُI was الجَريحَthe wounded one إذاwhen روحُthe spirit of النّدىdew جُرِحَتْwas wounded
كُنْتُ الجَريحَ إذا روحُ النّدى جُرِحَتْ
صِرْتُI became القَريحَthe sorely wounded one وَطينيand my clay هُدَّwas shattered وانْفَلَقاand split apart
صِرْتُ القَريحَ وَطيني هُدَّ وانْفَلَقا
I was the wounded one when the spirit of dew was wounded;
I became the sorely wounded one, my clay shattered and split.
كُنْتُI was الطّريحَthe prostrate one كَقَبرٍlike a grave شُقَّwas dug open مُنْعَزِلاin isolation
كُنْتُ الطّريحَ كَقَبرٍ شُقَّ مُنْعَزِلا
صِرْتُI became الذّبيحَthe slaughtered one وقَلبيand my heart شُجَّwas gashed ماnot ارْتَتَقاmended
صِرْتُ الذّبيحَ وقَلبي شُجَّ ما ارْتَتَقا
I was the prostrate one, like a grave dug in solitude;
I became the slaughtered one; my heart was gashed and did not heal.
حَتّىuntil حَبانيbestowed on me ربيعُthe springtime of العَيْنِthe eye باصِرَتيmy sight
حَتّى حَباني ربيعُ العَيْنِ باصِرَتي
أردْتُI wanted أسْرِقَهُto steal it لكنّهُbut it سَبَقاgot there first
أردْتُ أسْرِقَهُ لكنّهُ سَبَقا
Until the eye's springtime granted me my sight.
I wanted to steal it, but it got there first.
وضيءُradiant وجهِكِyour face نبراسٌa beacon لأشْرِعَتيfor my sails
وضيءُ وجهِكِ نبراسٌ لأشْرِعَتي
وقاربيand my boat عنكfrom you طولَthroughout البَحْرِthe sea ماnot افْتَرَقاparted
وقاربي عنك طولَ البَحْرِ ما افْتَرَقا
Your radiant face is a beacon for my sails,
And my boat has not parted from you across the sea's whole length.
رنينُthe resonance of صوتِكِyour voice "دوْزانٌtuning" لأغْنيتيfor my song
رنينُ صوتِكِ "دوْزانٌ" لأغْنيتي
ينْثالُpours forth فيin عَصَبيmy nerves يَسْتَحْضِرُsummons الرَّوَقاserenity
ينْثالُ في عَصَبي يَسْتَحْضِرُ الرَّوَقا
The resonance of your voice is the tuning of my song;
It pours through my nerves, summoning serenity.
مُذْsince باتbecame ثغْرُكِyour lips مِضْيافًاhospitable لأخيِلَتيto my imaginings
مُذْ بات ثغْرُكِ مِضْيافًا لأخيِلَتي
جُنّwent mad القَصيدُpoetry وحَرفيand my letters عانقَembraced الورقاthe paper
جُنّ القَصيدُ وحَرفي عانقَ الورقا
Since your lips became generous hosts to my imaginings,
Poetry went mad, and my letters embraced the page.
هياcome now ازفريexhale فيinto مَسارthe path of الرّيحِthe wind مُتْعِبَتيyou who weary me
هيا ازفري في مَسار الرّيحِ مُتْعِبَتي
لأشهَقَso I may inhale الريحَthe wind تِرياقاan antidote ومُنْتَشَقاand a breath to inhale
لأشهَقَ الريحَ تِرياقا ومُنْتَشَقا
Come, exhale into the wind's path, you who weary me,
So I may inhale the wind as an antidote and a draught of air.
لاdo not تَعْذلينيreproach me فَإنّيfor I am مُولَعٌinfatuated ولِعٌardently enamored
لا تَعْذليني فَإنّي مُولَعٌ ولِعٌ
والشّوْقُand longing مِنْfrom وَلَعيmy passion قَدْindeed شَبَّflared up واحْتَرقاand burned
والشّوْقُ مِنْ وَلَعي قَدْ شَبَّ واحْتَرقا
Do not reproach me, for I am infatuated, ardently in love;
And from my passion, longing flared up and burned.
لاdo not تُلْقِمينيfeed me لِنيرانِto the fires of الجَفاestrangement حَطبًاas firewood
لا تُلْقِميني لِنيرانِ الجَفا حَطبًا
لاdo not تُرضِعينيsuckle me لِبعدٍfor separation يُورِثُbequeaths الرَّهَقاexhaustion
لا تُرضِعيني لِبعدٍ يُورِثُ الرَّهَقا
Do not feed me as firewood to the fires of estrangement.
Do not suckle me for a separation that breeds exhaustion.
جُوديgive generously بقربٍwith closeness لعلَّperhaps الدفءَwarmth يحقِنُنيinjects me
جُودي بقربٍ لعلَّ الدفءَ يحقِنُني
وصلًاunion يُرتّقُstitches up ماwhat فيin داخِليmy interior انْفَتَقاhas torn open
وصلًا يُرتّقُ ما في داخِلي انْفَتَقا
Grant me closeness; perhaps warmth will inject me
With union that stitches up what has torn open within me.