1. His tyranny in rule was enough, had he been just
Even if he heard blame from his loved ones

2. Or if he secretly harbored passion in his heart
For bright-faced maidens who would make the bangles ashamed

3. But how can one whom the virgins’ eyes occupy awake to love or be roused to passion?
For love is nothing but downcast eyelids

4. And passion only a smoldering heartache
A longing we endure leading to devastation - O may God water the devastation with rain!

5. The rain of Damascus He watered without corrupting it
From the clouds He made its land fertile

6. Until its environs smile beautifully
And light laughs in its sleeves playfully

7. And He granted the west side an abode
Where I wore the prime of youth welcomingly

8. The melodies of love and the joys of amusement where when the full moon rose it set
Those dwellings are not Kadima nor Aqeeq nor Shi’b Al-Ghuyer nor any love-crazed land however much I say to it

9. And patience dissolves in my body like beeswax
With the magic in your eyes saying hello to a life that without you would say no

10. God knows that after we parted
I abandoned the passion of youth, amusement and romance

11. I would not have left you were it not for ambition
A drunkard does not neglect his wine even when traveling

12. I would not have chosen Rome as my dwelling
Or substituted you for youth

13. I would not have mounted my steeds
Roving the plains and mountains

14. Faster from all sides than the glance itself
And smoother flowing than the Shadool of the desert

15. When it emerges from the mirage it appears
A rising moon with the horizons adorning it

16. However much desolate regions buffet it
You hear its ghosts wailing in its corners

17. It courses through them like raging winds
And it vaults as the darkness of night settles

18. Many are its channels of fresh water I frequented
While murky stagnant pools remained untasted

19. And night casts its anklets upon the dunes
As if it is a monk wrapped up in its garb

20. And the stars strewn upon the horizons you would think them
Perplexed like the disciples, unable to find their way

21. I spurred it to fly while blue doves fled from it
Repelled by its speed after having alighted

22. Until it carried me to the land of Rome as refuge
To a meadow, a stable, cool water and fodder

23. And it said glad tidings, the garden of virtue! I said
The garden of Ibn Bustan and our Master. Yes, it replied

24. It is the generous one whose gifts
Call even the unworthy to its bounty

25. If the sea surged one day, the surplus reaching
All the lands would not match its surplus

26. The moon rose radiant and the world shone beautifully
In an auspicious ascendant perfectly full

27. And fate is a fortress safe from its pitfalls
So seek refuge in its thresholds whatever befalls

28. You will find it a towering pillar of knowledge should it contend
The hills of Salma would seem light in comparison

29. The attractions of the world do not seduce it
Nor is it seen as miserly in giving

30. Of masters who inherited nobility and divided up
The glories of glory - domains and highness

31. A luminous honesty adorned by a nature
Like a garden blooming beautifully verdant

32. An eloquence that had it called even the deaf would answer
No tongue in Okaz would stand extemporizing thus

33. And a thought that crept on an obscure night
Would appear to the intellects of all clear as daybreak

34. And agreeable manners that if it blended with generosity
Would temper the crude nature of the times

35. When I came to its Hima, so spacious, it hosted me
Honoring me in its shade with lodging

36. And stretched out a white hand with dew
That knew no refusal, poverty or stinginess

37. And it congratulated me over a state I reached
Fulfilling my hopes of fate

38. Thanks be to God! This rain began with drops
And I received its last torrents hopefully

39. Syrian in origin - let the questioner ask!
A stranger in the land of Rome without

40. A match but you - so send her dowry promptly!
For the free man, it is said, is stingy when he gifts

41. While you remain in my blessing, repeating and returning
However you wish, and your noble sons

42. Not even the Damascene lightning that yearns for its homeland
Ceased beseeching while in Rome without flagging