مزجت دموع جفونه بدماء — Ahmad Alkiwani

مَزَجت دُموع جُفونِهِ بِدِماءِ

ذِكراهُ لِلأَحباب وَالقَرناءِ

His eyelids' tears were mingled with blood

by his remembrance of loved ones and companions.

دَنف يَدُبُّ السُمّ في أَعضائِهِ

مِن سورة الأَشواق وَالبَرحاءِ

A wasted man, poison creeps through his limbs

from the fury of longing and searing anguish.

وَصل الضَنا أَوصالَهُ مُستَأصِلاً

لِلجسم وَصل النار لِلحلفاءِ

Wasting sickness seized his limbs, consuming

his body as fire seizes halfa grass.

ذو مُقلَةٍ مَقروحَةٍ مُتَجنب

عَنها الكَرى وَكّافة الأَنواءِ

His is an ulcerated eye, shunned

by sleep, pouring abundant showers.

مُتَمَلمِلٌ قَلِقٌ سَحابة لَيلِهِ

وَنَهارِهِ متمنع الإغفاءِ

Restless and anxious throughout his night

and day, with slumber denied him.

فَكَأَن مِن شَوك القتاد وسادهُ

وَكَأَنَّ مَضجعَهُ مِن الرَمضاءِ

As though his pillow were made of qatad thorns,

and his bed of sun-scorched ground.

يُبدي ضراعة مُستَكين لِلنَوى

عَن مُسعَديهِ وَمُؤنسيهِ نائي

He shows the pleading of one bowed by separation,

far from his comforters and companions.

لَم أَنسَ يَوماً مَرَّ لي في جَلق

مَثوى الجَمال وَمَوطن الظُرَفاءِ

I have not forgotten a day I spent in Jilliq,

beauty's dwelling and the home of the witty,

في رَوضَة مَوسومة بتراتع ال

آرام بَل بِمُصارع الشُهَداءِ

in a garden marked by the grazing of

gazelles—rather, by the places where martyrs fell.

رقمت بِزَهرٍ يانع جَنباتِها

كَالوَشي في الدِيباجَة الخَضراءِ

Its borders were embroidered with flourishing flowers,

like embroidery upon green brocade.

مَسكية أَنفاسُها فَكَأَنَّما

هَبَت نَسائِمُها بِنَشر كَباءِ

Its breaths were musky, as though

its breezes blew with the fragrance of incense.

يَنسابُ جَولَها عَلى الكافور وَال

عقبان مِن تُرب وِمِن حَصباءِ

Its stream glides over camphor and

gold: earth and pebbles.

ضَحكت مَباسم نورَها لَما بَكى

فيها الغَمام بِأَدمُع الأَنداءِ

Its blossoms' smiling mouths laughed when

the clouds wept there with tears of dew.

تَسري بِها ريح الشمال عَليلة

فَتَخص مَوتى الهَم بِالأَحياءِ

A gentle north wind drifts through it,

favoring those slain by sorrow with renewed life.

وَتَجُرُّ أَذيالاً هُناكَ بَليلةً

تَندى لَمس وَرانك الأَفياءِ

And there it trails damp skirts,

dewy to the touch upon the cushions of shade.

ما بَينَ نَغمة مَنطق بِبنانِهِ ال

وَتَر الفَصيح وَرَنة الوَرقاءِ

Amid the melody of one whose fingertips make the

eloquent string speak, and the gray dove's ringing call,

وَحَنين نَأي يَنفخ الأَرواح في

صَرعى العَنا وَالوَجد وَالاَهواءِ

and the yearning of a reed flute, breathing souls into

those slain by suffering, ardent love, and desire,

وَمُغَرّد فيهِ اِشتياق مُتيم

يَشدو بِأَشجى مَنطق وَغِناءِ

and a singer filled with the yearning of one enslaved by love,

singing in the most plaintive voice and song,

وَمقرطق يَسعى إِلى النَدماءِ

بِعَقيقة في دُرة بَيضاءِ

and one in a short tunic hurrying to the drinking companions

with a carnelian in a white pearl.

وَنَديمنا ظَبيٌ غَريرٌ بَينَنا

كَالبَدر بَينَ كَواكب الجَوزاء

Our drinking companion was an innocent gazelle among us,

like the full moon among the stars of al-Jawza.

أَبَداً تَرى ماءَ الحَياة بِخَدِهِ

مترقرِقاً مِن نعمة وَحياءِ

Always you see the water of life upon his cheek,

shimmering with softness and modesty.

السُحُرُ يَعبد لَحظُهُ وَالظَرف يَخ

دم لَفظَهُ بِغَرائب الأَنباءِ

Magic worships his glance, and wit serves

his speech with marvelous tales.

تَستلّ أَحلام الرِجال جُفونَهُ

بِعَزائِمِ التَرنيق وَالأَغضاءِ

His eyelids steal away men's reason

with spells of half-closed and lowered eyes.

نَشوان مِن سُكر الصِبى فَكَأَنَّما

لَعبت بِمعطفِهِ يَد الصَهباءِ

Intoxicated by the drunkenness of youth, as though

the hand of tawny wine had played upon his flank.

وَيَهز لِمح الطَرف عامل قَدهِ

هَزّ النَسائِمِ بانةُ الجَرعاءِ

A flickering glance sways the spear-shaft of his stature,

as breezes sway a ban-tree on sandy ground.

خنث المَفاصل مطمع متمنع

مُتناسب الحَركات وَالأَعضاءِ

Supple-jointed, enticing yet withholding,

well-proportioned in movements and limbs.

أَعضاؤُهُ نَمَت عَلى ما اِستَودَعَت

أَوهامُهُ مِن رِقة وَصَفاءِ

His limbs grew in keeping with what was stored

by his imaginings: delicacy and purity.

وَيَلوح دَمع العاشِقين بِخَدِهِ

مُتَزاحِماً أَبَداً لِطَرف الرائي

And lovers' tears show upon his cheek,

forever crowding before the beholder's eye.

لَو أَبصَرَتهُ القاصِرات العين لاف

تَتَنَت بِسحر المُقلة النَجلاءِ

If women with downcast eyes beheld him, they would

be enchanted by the magic of his wide eye.

وَجُلوسَنا مِن حَول بَركَتِها كَما

دارَ السوار بِمعصم الحَسناءِ

And our sitting around its pool, just as

a bracelet encircles a beautiful woman's wrist.

لَما رَأى قَلَقي لِقُرب رَقيبِهِ

قَلق العَليل لِطَلعة الظَلماءِ

When he saw my anxiety at his watcher's nearness,

like a sick man's dread of approaching darkness,

وَرَأى لحاظي لا تَمُرُّ بِوَجهِهِ

إِلّا اِختِلاساً خشية الرَقباءِ

and saw that my glances never crossed his face

except furtively, for fear of watchers,

وَتَنفَس الصَعداءِ مني مشعراً

بِتَوَقُد الأَشواق في الأَحشاءِ

and my deep sighing, revealing

the burning of longing within my breast,

وَرَأى سَوابق عبرَتي فَضاحة

قَد قَربت سرّي إِلى الإِفشاء

and saw my rushing tears, betraying me,

already bringing my secret close to disclosure,

أَومى إِليَّ بِطَرفِهِ إِيماءَةً

خَفيت لِرقتها عَن النَدماءِ

he signaled to me with a glance,

so subtle that the drinking companions missed it:

إِنظُر إِلى شَخصي بِها متملياً

إِن كُنتَ تَخشى أَعيُن الجُلَساءِ

“Gaze your fill upon my image in it,

if you fear the eyes of those seated with us.”

فَظَللت أَنظُر شَخصَهُ في مائِها

وَيخصني بِالأُنس وَالسَرّاءِ

So I kept looking at his image in its water,

while he singled me out for companionship and joy.

أَشكو إِلَيهِ ما لَقيت وَيَشتَكي

ما نالَهُ بِالوَحي وَالإِيماءِ

I lamented to him what I had suffered, and he lamented

what had befallen him, through secret hints and gestures.

فَاِرتابَ مِن نَظَر الرَقيب وَقالَ لي

ماذا تَرى في الماءِ يا مَولائي

Then the watcher grew suspicious at my staring and said to me:

“What do you see in the water, my lord?

هِب إِن أَطراق الأَديب لَنُكتة

ماذا البُكاء وَلات حينَ بُكاءِ

Grant that a man of letters lowers his gaze for some subtle thought;

why the tears, when this is no time for weeping?”

فَأَجَبتُهُ أَني أَرى يا سَيدي

شَمس النهار غَريقة في الماءِ

I answered him: “I see, my master,

the day's sun drowned in the water.

وَجَرَت لِتَحديقي إِلَيها أَدمُعي

لا إِن جَرَت لِصَبابة وَعَناءِ

My tears flowed because I stared at it,

not because they flowed from longing and suffering.”

يا رَب ما زالَ الرَقيب يَسوءَني

فاِرم الرَقيب بِعاجل الضَرّاءِ

O Lord, the watcher never ceases to distress me;

strike the watcher with swift affliction.

سَقياً لِأَيام الصَبابَة وَالصِبى

وَلِمَعهد الأَلاف وَالخَلطاءِ

May rain bless the days of longing and youth,

and the haunt of dear friends and companions.

يا لَيتَ شعري ما الَّذي أَغرى الوى

تَعست بَصَدع الشَمل وَالاقصاء

Would that I knew what incited separation—

may it perish!—to sunder our union and keep us apart.

يا رَب قَد طالَ البُعاد فَلم تَدَع

مِن مُهجَتي الأَشواق غَير زَماء

O Lord, separation has grown long; longing has left

of my life's blood only a last remnant.

وَأملَّ سَقي عَوَّدي إِذا يَأست

مني الطَبيب وَطبهُ أَدوائي

My sickness wearied my visitors, when

my ailments made the physician and his treatment despair of me.

وَلبست مِن حُلل السقام مورّساً

قَد رَقَّيتُهُ مُقلَتي بِدِماءِ

I donned one of sickness's yellow-dyed robes,

already embroidered with blood by my eye.

وَقَسى عَلى ضُعفي زَماني عِندَما

لانَت لبثي قسوة الأَعداءِ

My times were cruel to my weakness, even when

my enemies' cruelty softened at my grief.

يا رَب إِن كان الزَمان مُعانِدي

أَبَداً بِإِقصاءٍ عَن الخَلصاءِ

O Lord, if time is my adversary,

forever keeping me apart from true friends,

فائذن لِروحي بِالرواح فَإِنَّما

هِيَ مُهجَتي قَد آذنت بِفَناءِ

then allow my soul to depart, for

my very life has already announced its end.

تَبّاً لِدَهر لَم تَزَل أَحداثُهُ

تَجني عَلى الأَحرار وَالادباءِ

Perdition to an age whose calamities never cease

to wrong the noble and men of letters.

دانَ اللئام بسيرة مَذمومة

وَبِصُحبة زور بِغَير وَفاءِ

The base live by a blameworthy way of life,

and false companionship without loyalty.

أَحشاؤُهُم مَحشوة بِضَغائن

وَضُلوعَهُم تَطوى عَلَيَ الشَحناءِ

Their innards are stuffed with grudges,

and their ribs enclose rancor against me.

لَما بَليت بِهُم بَلَوت خِلالَهُم

دَهراً فَحير لُؤمَهُم آرائي

When I was afflicted with them, I tested their traits

for an age, and their baseness bewildered my judgment.

وَرَأَيتُ أَدناهُم يَتيهُ بِنَقصِهِ

لُؤماً فَتهت بِعِزَتي وَأَبائي

I saw the lowest of them strutting in his deficiency,

in baseness; so I took pride in my dignity and defiance.

جايتهم وَأَنا مُقيم بَينَهُم

وَكَتَمت أَحزاني وَعظم بَلائي

I held aloof from them while dwelling among them,

and concealed my sorrows and the enormity of my affliction.

أَو كُلَما أَثرى دَنيٌّ في الوَرى

دانَت لَهُ لُؤماً بَنو حَوّاءِ

Is it that whenever a base man grows rich among mankind,

Eve's children bow to him in baseness?

أَيقَنت أَن ذَوي المروَّة كُلَهُم

في غُربة فَبَكيت لِلغَرباء

I became certain that all people of honor

are in exile, so I wept for the estranged.

وَرَأَيت أَيامي بَحرٍ واحِدٍ

لَيسَت تَجود فَحدت بِالحَوباءِ

I saw that my days, with even one noble man,

would not be generous; so I withdrew in spirit.