تنسمي بالله ريح نجد — Ahmad Alkiwani

تَنسمي بِاللَه ريح نَجدٍ

عَلى فُؤاد طافح بِالوَجدِ

Blow gently, by God, O breeze of Najd,

upon a heart overflowing with longing.

عَساكِ أَن تَخفي هَجير الجَوى

عَن كَبد تَصلى سَعير البُعد

May you hide the scorching heat of heartache

from a liver burning in separation's blaze.

يَكادُ فَيض مَدمَعي يُغرِقُني

وَلا تَحس كَبدي بِالبَرد

The flood of my tears nearly drowns me,

yet my liver feels no coolness.

وَالبَحر غَير مطفئٍ بِفَيضِهِ

مَهما جَرى كامن نار الزند

The sea, with its flood, cannot quench,

however much it flows, the fire hidden in the fire-stick.

فَلو دَنا مِن أَضلُعي جَمر الغَضا

لَأَحرَقتُهُ كَبدي بِالوَقد

So if a glowing coal of ghada wood drew near my ribs,

my liver would surely burn it with its blaze.

قَد صَير السقام جسمي عِظَةً

لَكِنَّني مُستَتر بِالبَرد

Illness has made my body a warning,

but I am concealed beneath a cloak.

وَلَم يَدَع مني سِوى مَدامع

سَوافح وَنَفسٍ ممتد

And it has left of me nothing but tears

streaming down, and a long-drawn breath.

أَفديكَ يا مَن صَدعني مُعرِضاً

مِن غَير ذَنب لَم نَقضت عَهدي

I would ransom you, O you who broke me by turning away,

without any fault—why did you break my covenant?

أَلفت في حبيك نيران الأَسى

فَالنار عِندي كَجِنان الخُلد

In loving you I have grown accustomed to sorrow's fires,

so fire, to me, is like the gardens of eternity.

بِحَق مِن قَدَّر هَذا كُلَهُ

عَلَيَّ ماذا تَبتَغي مِن صَدي

By the right of Him who decreed all this

upon me—what do you seek by spurning me?

إِن كُنت تَبغي بِالصُدود تَلفي

فَمن عَلَيكَ يا ظَلوم يَعدي

If you seek my ruin by turning away,

who, O cruel one, will come to my aid against you?

أَو كُنتُ أَعطَيت الجَمال كُلَهُ

فَإِن كُل الحُب أَضحى عِندي

Or if I had bestowed beauty in full,

then all love has come to dwell with me.

مالي سِوى روحي فَإِن قَبَلتَها

أَسعَفتَني وَذاكَ أَقصى قَصدي

I have nothing but my soul; if you accept it,

you will have granted my wish, and that is my utmost aim.

تَلهو بِتَعذيبي وَتَلتذ بِهِ

مالك مِنهُ أَبَداً مِن بَد

You amuse yourself by tormenting me and delight in it;

you can never do without it.

فَمِن بِهِ تَلهو إِذا قَتَلتَني

وَأكبدي مِمَن تَجافى بَعدي

Then whom will you toy with when you have killed me?

Alas for my liver, for one who shunned me after my departure!

بَلَغَت في حُبك حالاً لا الرقى

تَغني وَلا الوَصل أَراهُ يُجدي

In loving you I have reached a state that neither charms

can relieve, nor, I find, can union help.

بي غَيرِهِ كُلُّ جُنون دونَها

وَهِيَ بَدين الحُب عَين الرُشد

A jealousy possesses me that surpasses all madness,

yet in love's creed it is wisdom itself.

أَفنيتُ فيها حيلي وَعُمري

وَجاوَزتُ بي فيهِ كُل حَد

I have spent my resources and my life upon it,

and in love I have carried myself beyond every limit.

مِن أَجل أَن الوَرد وَصف خَده

يُغَيرُني شمُّ نَسيم الوَرد

Because the rose is a likeness of his cheek,

smelling the breeze of roses makes me jealous.

باِللَهِ يا ريح الصِبا أَانتِ أَم

لين الصِبا رنح غُصن القَد

By God, O east wind, was it you, or

youth's softness, that swayed the bough of his figure?

وَيا أَقاح الثَغر دونَ الوَرد

مِن زرفن الصَدغين فَوقَ الخَد

And O daisies of his mouth, beneath the roses—

who looped the two temple-locks above the cheek?

وَيا حباباً عطراً مِن بَرد

مِن مَزج الراح تَرى بِالشَهد

And O fragrant bubbles of hail—

who, do you think, mingled wine with honey?

وَاِظمائي إَلَيهِ لَكن دونَهُ

سَيف اللحاظ قاطع في الغمد

And oh, my thirst for it! But before it stands

the sword of his glances, cutting even in its sheath.

وَأَنتَ يا ساحر جفنيهِ غَدَت

قَتلاكَ وَالأَسر بِغَير عَد

And you, O one with enchanting eyelids—now

your slain and your captives are beyond counting.

وَيا نوى شَطت بِناهل أَوحش ال

أَحباب فَقدي أَم تَناسوا عَهدي

And O separation that drove us far apart, did the

loved ones miss me, or did they choose to forget my covenant?

لَم أَنسَهُم إِذ رَجلوا عَن اللَوى

وَيَمم الحادي هِضاب نَجد

I did not forget them when they left al-Liwa on foot,

and the camel-driver headed toward the hills of Najd.

أَقول يا حادي المَطيّ خلها

تَرتح قَليلاً مِن حَثيث الوَخد

I say: O driver of the riding camels, let them

rest a little from their swift trotting.

أَما تَراها كَالحَنايا شَقها

جَذبُ البُرى لعيها وَالجُهد

Do you not see them like bows, strained by

the tugging of nose-rings, through weariness and toil?

لَم تُبقِ مِنها شَقق البيد سِوى

دَقيق عَظم أَو رَقيق جلد

The desert's long stretches have left of them nothing but

fine bone or thin skin.

وَنادِ بِالرَكب قِفوا لِمُدنف

عَلى وَجيف العيس غَير جلد

And call to the caravan: Stop for one sick with love,

unable to endure the pale camels' hurried pace.

إِن لَم تَكونوا تَرغَبوا في قُربِهِ

وَوِدِهِ لَحظهُ المسود

If you do not desire his company

and his affection, owing to his darkened fortune,

فَإِن نارَ شَوقِهِ لِيَهتَدي

مِن حار في ظَلمائِها لِلقَصد

then the fire of his longing will guide

whoever is bewildered in its darkness to the proper way.

وَإِن يَعزّ في الفَيافي مَورِدٌ

فَدَمعُهُ لِلعيس أَوفى وَرد

And if a watering place is scarce in the wastes,

then his tears are the fullest water supply for the pale camels.

وَلائم قَد غَدا يَلومَني

لا يَستحي مِن نصحِهِ وَردي

And a reproacher has taken to blaming me,

unashamed of his counsel and my rebuff.

لَم أَدرِ ماذا عاذِلي أَشجٌ

مِن خرق أَم صَنَم مِن صَلد

I cannot tell what my reproacher is: a scarred figure

made of rags, or an idol of solid stone?

نَصيحة لا تَدن مني عاذِلي

فَالعِشق بَعدي وَالغَرام يَردي

A word of advice: do not come near me, my reproacher,

for love is contagious, and passion kills.

أَعن حَياتي يا فَتى تَخدَعَني

أَراكَ تَهذي لا أَراكَ تَهدي

Would you trick me out of my life, young man?

I see you raving; I do not see you guiding.

كَم لَيلة أَفنيتُها بِالسُهد

لاقيت جَيش الشَوق فيها وَحدي

How many a night I have spent sleepless,

when I faced the army of longing all alone.

وَلِلثُريا رَونَق لَما بَدَت

في جيد زُنجي الدُجى كَالعقد

And the Pleiades had a lovely sheen when they appeared

like a necklace on the neck of night's Black figure.

وَلِلدُجى كَأبتي وَحيرَتي

إِذ غابَ عَنهُ بَدرُهُ للفَقد

And night shared my sorrow and bewilderment

when loss deprived it of its full moon.

أَعلل القَلب بِوَعد كاذب

وَهَل يُداوي مُدنف بِوَعد

I soothe my heart with a false promise,

but can one sick with love be healed by a promise?

كَتَمت حُبي بُرهة لَم أشك ما

لاقَيتُهُ مِن جورِهِ عَن عَمد

For a time I hid my love, never complaining of what

I suffered from his cruelty—my silence was deliberate.

لَكِنَّني لَما فَني تَجَلُدي

أَبدى لِسان الدَمع ما لَم أَبدِ

But when my endurance was spent,

the tongue of tears revealed what I had not revealed.