1. I tell you that I long for you like someone suffering from love sickness,
And that after you my heart is prey to sorrow and grief,

2. You forgot my covenant as if I were a wrongdoer,
Yet I was not at fault, were it not for your indifference.

3. I hoped you would remain true to your vow,
As you were in the days when kinship united us.

4. Those days were prosperous when we were together,
But after they were gone, they have become war to me.

5. So to one whose heart knows no peace or rest,
And whose eyes know no sleep,

6. I have denied slumber after being parted from you,
So that eyelid meets not eyelid.

7. In the palace at Baghdad are lovely gazelles,
None who falls for them escapes with his heart intact.

8. They are slender like bowstrings, untamed,
Dwelling not in pastures, owned by no tribe or clan.

9. Well nourished, though eating not clover,
Drinking neither fresh milk nor curdled whey,

10. Needing no herdsman to drive away the grim darkness,
No weapons to ward off attack or blows.

11. I have made their home atop the highest pinnacle,
Their abode overlooking the Karkh, no raiders or brigands near.

12. When their lineage is traced to the Turks, and they claim
Kinship with their people, the Arabs scorn their pedigree.

13. Veiled in dark tresses and fair faces,
They have no covering but their luxuriant locks.

14. I shall not forget them, like a roe deer on the night she crept up
With her companions gathered around, a flock around their ram.

15. She turned away from the rose whose thorns glistened,
Saying, “Between us are those shelters and clefts.”

16. When our feet met at the pinnacle,
Our mounts panted from the heat within our breasts.

17. To the west, with a gentle moist breeze
Making delicate the air’s fringes, and the soft wind damp.

18. No watcher to elude, no rival to contend with,
Grievance was easy for us, and reproach was sweet.

19. In her palms she made for us that night a garden,
And from her kisses, a pool of fresh water.

20. She thought it no shame that I should spend the night
Laid low, helpless, unable to lift myself up.

21. When I say “My life, your love kills me,”
She says “How many lovers has love killed?”

22. If I say “My heart lies prone beneath your hand,”
She says “And where is the noble heart that welcomes the blow?”

23. Wait, for wealth is fickle and fleeting,
It is the way of fate to bestow and deprive.

24. If the palace denies me lodging,
For me in God’s land there is ample range.

25. I will spur my steed up to the limit of endurance,
And race on until sorrow and misfortune are amazed.

26. He who takes the wild cows as his means,
To gain luck, and the seasoned firewood as his guide, does not fail.

27. I am not one who can rein in his passion,
Or control his love for the fair.

28. Nor do I claim to be like stone in love,
With a heart that neither sorrows nor aspires.

29. Rather, time sweeps the youth away
To other than what he desires; so go its changes and chance.

30. And the steadfast heart may yet long
For its vow, raving on in unending fervour.

31. In every house one halts at there is a neighbour,
And in every land where one settles, companions.

32. If I regain the favour of Minister Muhammad,
Then the remote ones will draw near, and the difficult become easy.

33. A minister, when times are disordered, his view
Brings ease, healing however the ulcer may sting.

34. With his nature, bounty suffices when he gives drink
From his pools; none need fear scarcity or drought.

35. He possesses penetrating wisdom in good measure,
And his hands hold a restraining power when he is roused to anger.

36. Terror makes the foe withdraw before encountering him,
For God has given him forces that cause dread.

37. We seek refuge in him in nights of peril, and they clear up,
We call on him in time of need, and the distress is relieved.

38. On days of calamity we find him a towering mountain,
When war has darkened the faces of even its heroes.

39. Sometimes the swords of al-Samhari are a gazing flock in his grasp,
At other times, his regiments are scrolls.

40. When his zeal calls for punishment, his gentle nature
And gracious manner deter him from harshness.

41. Toward the arm of the Faith, the minister, hopes carried us,
Hopes long concealed from men’s eyes, now ripened.

42. Excuse is narrow, being stingy with the shining gifts of the Almighty,
No excuse, though the clouds be miserly with their rain.

43.
Shall I go thirsty, and below me rivers overflowing with bounty from Muhammad,

44. Whose currents are ever-flowing torrents?
I fear the nights and the woes their darkness brings,

45. Yet no sorrow came in the minister’s time, no cause for grief.

46. I lived an age contentedly under his wing,
My flock undiminished, my pastures undiminished.

47. If I subdue the nights, his lion-warriors undertake
To help me overcome them, hardened for assault.

48. Without their valor, the spears would sprout leaves,
Without their aid, the clubs would dissolve in their hands.

49. Ask them to give, and they give lavishly; promise, and they keep faith;
Judge, and they pardon; possess power, and they restrain it.

50. They have taught my soul abnegation ­ how then
Can I leave off selflessness, when it improves the soul?

51. I kept their company when the lute’s music still flows sweetly
And the garments of youth are yet new and bright.

52. But now age has left its grey in my temples,
And the first gleams of white hairs shine through.

53. What gifts I owe them, what deeds of grace!
I wore them as my adornment, my necklaces and amulets.

54. I yearn for those days and times gone by,
Like the withered leaf yearns for greenness.

55. Yet if the days of association are gone,
I have eulogies for them that will never pass away.

56. I praised them out of love for them, and so my poetry
Will endure, and dust be showered on me from above.

57. If I err by praising others,
Then the warbler is fated to fall prey to love.

58. Look closely at whose nature is purest to you,
Whose thoughts are most inclined to you ­ poetry stems from the heart.

59. Can a nobody hope to attain my rank,
The base and envious vie with the noble and high-minded?

60. He would rival me composing any strange form,
While I am heedless of such novelties, his the innovation.

61. He disputes with me mastery of the poetic craft, yet
He ignores its metre and rhyme ­ ignorant in this craft.

62. I refuse to let my thoughts be distracted
By livelihood and provision, if they are bent on that.

63. Favor us equally, according to our gifts,
How strange that the head be equaled to the dung beetle!

64. Stand firmly in saving me from the blows of fate,
Driving its caprices away from me, for the leap is possible.

65. Irrigate the saplings of generosity, for I fear
They may wither while you are still their nurturing Lord.

66. Far be it that the branches of my praise dry up,
When your running stream of bounty gives them drink.

67. No land went barren while you live,
No fortune declined while you remain its restorer to health.

68. The ministry loses no resolve while you lie awake
Pondering it, be it east or west.

69. And below you are haunts full of fragrant blossoms,
Their tails trailing forever in praise of you all.

70. They are pearls concealed in their shells which you hid away,
Scatter them, and they are gems of Yemen, unsullied.

71. Whenever their seal is opened before me one day,
The earth will be perfumed where you dwell, should I recite them.

72. You whose reach is short, tongue readily prone to blame,
To detraction you hurry, a habitual reviler.

73. Yours is an empty abode, though it appears spacious,
A desert your guest, neither water nor grass yours.

74. Ever dreaded, shunned by noble and base alike,
While your sword remains sheathed, and your flame extinguished.