أَوَمِيضُ بَرْقٍ بِالأُبَيْرِقِ لَاحَا

أَوَمِيضُ بَرْقٍ بِالأُبَيْرِقِ لَاحَاأَمْ فِي رُبَى نَجْدٍ أَرَى مِصْبَاحَا

Awamīḍu barqin bi-al-ʾubayriqi lāḥā, Am fī rubā najdin arā miṣbāḥā

Is it a flash of lightning that gleamed at al-Ubayriq, or do I see a lamp upon the hills of Najd?

أَمْ تِلْكَ لَيْلَى العَامِرِيَّةُ أَسْفَرَتْلَيْلاً فَصَيَّرَتِ المَسَاءَ صَبَاحَا

Am tilka laylā al-ʿāmiriyyatu asfarat, Laylan faṣayyarati al-masāʾa ṣabāḥā

Or is that Layla of the Banu 'Amir, who unveiled by night and turned the evening into morning?

يَا رَاكِبَ الوَجْنَاءِ وُقِّيتَ الرَّدَىإِنْ جُبْتَ حَزْناً أَوْ طَوَيْتَ بِطَاحَا

Yā rākiba al-wajnāʾi wuqqīta ar-radā, In jubta ḥaznan aw ṭawayta biṭāḥā

O rider of the sturdy camel, may you be kept from harm, whether you cross rugged ground or traverse open valleys,

وَسَلَكْتَ نَعْمَانَ الأَرَاكِ فَعُجْ إِلَىوَادٍ هُنَاكَ عَهِدْتُهُ فَيَّاحَا

Wasalakta naʿmāna al-ʾarāki faʿuj ilā, Wādin hunāka ʿahidtuhu fayyāḥā

If you pass through Na'man of the arak trees, turn aside to a valley there that I once knew, broad and spacious.

فَبِأَيْمَنِ العَلَمَيْنِ مِنْ شَرْقِيِّهِعَرِّجْ وَأُمَّ أَرِينَهُ الفَوَّاحَا

Fabiʾaymani al-ʿalamayni min sharqiyyihi, ʿarrij waʾumma arīnahu al-fawwāḥā

On the right of the two landmarks, on its eastern side, turn in, and make for its fragrant thicket.

وَإِذَا وَصَلْتَ إِلَى ثَنِيَّاتِ اللِّوَىفَانْشُدْ فُؤَاداً بِالأُبَيْطِحِ طَاحَا

Waʾidhā waṣalta ilā thaniyyāti al-liwā, Fanshud fuʾādan bi-al-ʾubayṭiḥi ṭāḥā

And when you reach the passes of al-Liwa, seek out a heart that was lost at al-Ubaytih.

وَاقْرِ السَّلَامَ أُهَيْلَهُ عَنِّي وَقُلْغَادَرْتُهُ لِجَنَابِكُمْ مُلْتَاحَا

Waqri as-salāma uhaylahu ʿannī waqul, Ghādartuhu lijanābikum multāḥā

Give my greetings to its dear people, and say: "I left him at your threshold, burning with thirst."

يَا سَاكِنِي نَجْدٍ أَمَا مِنْ رَحْمَةٍلِأَسِيرِ إِلْفٍ لَا يُرِيدُ سَرَاحَا

Yā sākinī najdin amā min raḥmatin, Liʾasīri ilfin lā yurīdu sarāḥā

O dwellers of Najd, is there no mercy for a captive of love who seeks no release?

هَلَّا بَعَثْتُمْ لِلْمَشُوقِ تَحِيَّةًفِي طَيِّ صَافِيَةِ الرِّيَاحِ رَوَاحَا

Hallā baʿathtum lilmashūqi taḥiyyatan, Fī ṭayyi ṣāfiyati ar-riyāḥi rawāḥā

Will you not send the one who longs for you a greeting, folded within the pure winds of evening,

يَحْيَا بِهَا مَنْ كَانَ يَحْسَبُ هَجْرَكُمْمَزْحاً وَيَعْتَقِدُ المِزَاحَ مُزَاحَا

Yaḥyā bihā man kāna yaḥsabu hajrakum, Mazḥan wayaʿtaqidu al-mizāḥa muzāḥā

By which may live the one who thought your desertion a jest, and believed the jest would soon be gone?

يَا عَاذِلَ المُشْتَاقِ جَهْلاً بِالَّذِييَلْقَى مَلِيّاً لَا بَلَغْتَ نَجَاحَا

Yā ʿādhila al-mushtāqi jahlan billadhī, Yalqā maliyyan lā balaghta najāḥā

O you who blame the lover, knowing nothing of what he has long endured: may you never succeed!

أَتْعَبْتَ نَفْسَكَ فِي نَصِيحَةِ مَنْ يَرَىأَنْ لَا يَرَى الإِقْبَالَ وَالإِفْلَاحَا

Atʿabta nafsaka fī naṣīḥati man yarā, An lā yarā al-ʾiqbāla wa-al-ʾiflāḥā

You have wearied yourself advising one who holds that he will never see good fortune or success.

أَقْصِرْ عَدِمْتُكَ وَاطَّرِحْ مَنْ أَثْخَنَتْأَحْشَاءَهُ النُّجْلُ العُيُونُ جِرَاحَا

Aqṣir ʿadimtuka waṭṭariḥ man athkhanat, Aḥshāʾahu an-nujlu al-ʿuyūnu jirāḥā

Stop, may I lose you! Leave the one whose heart wide dark eyes have riddled with wounds.

كُنْتَ الصَّدِيقَ قُبَيْلَ نُصْحِكَ مُغْرَماًأَرَأَيْتَ صَبّاً يَأْلَفُ النُّصَّاحَا

Kunta aṣ-ṣadīqa qubayla nuṣḥika mughraman, Araʾayta ṣabban yaʾlafu an-nuṣṣāḥā

You were my friend before your advice, while I was enthralled; have you ever seen a lover fond of advisers?

إِنْ رُمْتَ إِصْلَاحِي فَإِنِّي لَمْ أُرِدْلِفَسَادِ قَلْبِي فِي الهَوَى إِصْلَاحَا

In rumta iṣlāḥī faʾinnī lam urid, Lifasādi qalbī fī al-hawā iṣlāḥā

If you seek to set me right, I have no wish for any cure of my heart's ruin in love.

مَاذَا يُرِيدُ العَاذِلُونَ بِعَذْلِ مَنْلَبِسَ الخَلَاعَةَ وَاسْتَرَاحَ وَرَاحَا

Mādhā yurīdu al-ʿādhilūna biʿadhli man, Labisa al-khalāʿata wastarāḥa warāḥā

What do the blamers want by blaming one who has thrown off all restraint, found his rest and gone his way?

يَا أَهْلَ وِدِّي هَلْ لِرَاجِي وَصْلِكُمْطَمَعٌ فَيَنْعَمَ بَالُهُ اسْتِرْوَاحَا

Yā ahla widdī hal lirājī waṣlikum, Ṭamaʿun fayanʿama bāluhu stirwāḥā

O people of my love, can one who hopes for your union hope that his mind may find ease and comfort?

مُذْ غِبْتُمُ عَنْ نَاظِرِي لِيَ أَنَّةٌمَلَأَتْ نَوَاحِيَ أَرْضِ مِصْرَ نُوَاحَا

Mudh ghibtumu ʿan nāẓirī liya annatun, Malaʾat nawāḥiya arḍi miṣra nuwāḥā

Since you vanished from my sight I have a moan that has filled every corner of Egypt with lament.

وَإِذَا ذَكَرْتُكُمُ أَمِيلُ كَأَنَّنِيمِنْ طِيبِ ذِكْرِكُمُ سُقِيتُ الرَّاحَا

Waʾidhā dhakartukumu amīlu kaʾannanī, Min ṭībi dhikrikumu suqītu ar-rāḥā

When I remember you I sway, as though the sweetness of your memory had given me wine to drink.

وَإِذَا دُعِيتُ إِلَى تَنَاسِي عَهْدِكُمْأَلْفَيْتُ أَحْشَائِي بِذَاكَ شِحَاحَا

Waʾidhā duʿītu ilā tanāsī ʿahdikum, Alfaytu aḥshāʾī bidhāka shiḥāḥā

And when I am urged to forget my bond with you, I find my heart too miserly to let it go.

سَقْياً لِأَيَّامٍ مَضَتْ مَعَ جِيرَةٍكَانَتْ لَيَالِينَا بِهِمْ أَفْرَاحَا

Saqyan liʾayyāmin maḍat maʿa jīratin, Kānat layālīnā bihim afrāḥā

May rain bless the days gone by with neighbours through whom our nights were all joy,

حَيْثُ الحِمَى وَطَنِي وَسُكَّانُ الغَضَاسَكَنِي وَوِرْدِي المَاءُ فِيهِ مُبَاحَا

Ḥaythu al-ḥimā waṭanī wasukkānu al-ghaḍā, Sakanī wawirdī al-māʾu fīhi mubāḥā

When the sanctuary was my homeland, the dwellers of the ghada trees my dear ones, and my drinking water there was freely given;

وَأُهَيْلُهُ أَرَبِي وَظِلُّ نَخِيلِهِطَرَبِي وَرَمْلَةُ وَادِيَيْهِ مَرَاحَا

Waʾuhayluhu arabī waẓillu nakhīlihi, Ṭarabī waramlatu wādiyayhi marāḥā

Its dear people my desire, the shade of its palms my delight, and the sands of its two valleys my resting place.

وَاهاً عَلَى ذَاكَ الزَّمَانِ وَطِيبِهِأَيَّامَ كُنْتُ مِنَ اللُّغُوبِ مُرَاحَا

Wāhan ʿalā dhāka az-zamāni waṭībihi, Ayyāma kuntu mina al-lughūbi murāḥā

Ah, for that time and its sweetness, the days when I was at rest from all weariness!

قَسَماً بِمَكَّةَ وَالمَقَامِ وَمَنْ أَتَى الْبَيْتَ الحَرَامَ مُلَبِّياً سَيَّاحَا

Qasaman bimakkata wa-al-maqāmi waman atā al-, Bayta al-ḥarāma mulabbiyan sayyāḥā

I swear by Mecca and the Station, and by everyone who has come to the sacred House answering the call, journeying as a pilgrim:

مَا رَنَّحَتْ رِيحُ الصَّبَا شِيحَ الرُّبَىإِلَّا وَأَهْدَتْ مِنْكُمُ أَرْوَاحَا

Mā rannaḥat rīḥu aṣ-ṣabā shīḥa ar-rubā, Illā waʾahdat minkumu arwāḥā

Never has the east wind made the wormwood of the hills sway without bringing me fragrant breezes from you.