أنادي الرسم لو ملك الجوابا — Ahmed Shawqi

أُنادي الرَسمَ لَو مَلَكَ الجَوابا

وَأُجزيهِ بِدَمعِيَ لَو أَثابا

I call to the ruin—if only it could answer—

and repay it with my tears, if it would answer in kind.

وَقَلَّ لِحَقِّهِ العَبَراتُ تَجري

وَإِن كانَت سَوادَ القَلبِ ذابا

And streaming tears fall short of what the ruin is owed,

even if they were the heart's own core, dissolved.

سَبَقنَ مُقَبِّلاتِ التُربِ عَنّي

وَأَدَّينَ التَحِيَّةَ وَالخِطابا

They went ahead, kissing the dust on my behalf,

and delivered the greeting and the address.

فَنَثري الدَمعَ في الدِمَنِ البَوالي

كَنَظمي في كَواعِبِها الشَبابا

My scattering tears among the timeworn ruins

is like my stringing youth among its full-breasted maidens.

وَقَفتُ بِها كَما شاءَت وَشاؤوا

وُقوفاً عَلَّمَ الصَبرَ الذِهابا

I stood there as it wished, and as they wished,

a vigil that taught patience itself to depart.

لَها حَقٌّ وَلِلأَحبابِ حَقٌّ

رَشَفتُ وِصالَهُم فيها حَبابا

It has its due, and loved ones have theirs;

there I sipped the foam of union with them.

وَمَن شَكَرَ المَناجِمَ مُحسِناتٍ

إِذا التِبرُ اِنجَلى شَكَرَ التُرابا

Whoever thanks the mines as benefactors,

when gold is revealed, also thanks the earth.

وَبَينَ جَوانِحي وافٍ أُلوفٌ

إِذا لَمَحَ الدِيارَ مَضى وَثابا

Within my ribs lives a faithful, affectionate heart;

when it glimpses the dwellings, it bounds toward them.

رَأى مَيلَ الزَمانِ بِها فَكانَت

عَلى الأَيّامِ صُحبَتُهُ عِتابا

It saw how time had wronged the place, and so

its companionship became a reproach against the days.

وَداعاً أَرضَ أَندَلُسٍ وَهَذا

ثَنائي إِن رَضيتِ بِهِ ثَوابا

Farewell, land of Andalusia; and this

is my praise, if you accept it as repayment.

وَما أَثنَيتُ إِلّا بَعدَ عِلمٍ

وَكَم مِن جاهِلٍ أَثنى فَعابا

I praised you only after knowing you;

how many an ignorant man has praised, and so disparaged!

تَخِذتُكِ مَوئِلاً فَحَلَلتُ أَندى

ذُراً مِن وائِلٍ وَأَعَزَّ غابا

I took you as refuge, lodging on more welcoming

heights than Wa'il's, in a more impregnable forest.

مُغَرِّبُ آدَمٍ مِن دارِ عَدنٍ

قَضاها في حِماكِ لِيَ اِغتِرابا

He who exiled Adam from Eden's dwelling

decreed my exile within your sanctuary.

شَكَرتُ الفُلكَ يَومَ حَوَيتِ رَحلي

فَيا لِمُفارِقٍ شَكَرَ الغُرابا

I thanked the ship the day you sheltered my baggage;

what a wonder—a departing man who thanked the raven!

فَأَنتِ أَرَحتِني مِن كُلِّ أَنفٍ

كَأَنفِ المَيتِ في النَزعِ اِنتِصابا

For you spared me every nose

upthrust like a dying man's in his death throes,

وَمَنظَرِ كُلِّ خَوّانٍ يَراني

بِوَجهٍ كَالبَغِيِّ رَمى النِقابا

and the sight of every betrayer who faces me

with a face like a prostitute who has cast aside the veil.

وَلَيسَ بِعامِرٍ بُنيانُ قَومٍ

إِذا أَخلاقُهُم كانَت خَرابا

A people's buildings cannot flourish

when their morals lie in ruins.

أَحَقٌّ كُنتِ لِلزَهراءِ ساحاً

وَكُنتِ لِساكِنِ الزاهي رِحابا

Is it true you were the courts of al-Zahra,

and spacious courts for the dweller of al-Zahi;

وَلَم تَكُ جَورُ أَبهى مِنكِ وَرداً

وَلَم تَكُ بابِلٌ أَشهى شَرابا

that Jawr was no lovelier than you in roses,

nor Babylon's wine more delicious than yours;

وَأَنَّ المَجدَ في الدُنيا رَحيقٌ

إِذا طالَ الزَمانُ عَلَيهِ طابا

and that glory in this world is a pure wine

that grows sweeter as time passes over it?

أولَئِكَ أُمَّةٌ ضَرَبوا المَعالي

بِمَشرِقِها وَمَغرِبِها قِبابا

Those were a people who raised lofty achievements

as domes across the world's east and west.

جَرى كَدَراً لَهُم صَفوُ اللَيالي

وَغايَةُ كُلِّ صَفوٍ أَن يُشابا

Their nights' clear stream ran muddy,

and every clear thing ends by being clouded.

مَشَيِّبَةُ القُرونِ أُديلَ مِنها

أَلَم تَرَ قَرنَها في الجَوِّ شابا

She who grays the ages has suffered a reversal:

have you not seen her horn turn gray in the sky?

مُعَلَّقَةٌ تَنَظَّرُ صَولَجاناً

يَخُرُّ عَنِ السَماءِ بِها لِعابا

Suspended, she awaits a polo mallet

to bring her tumbling from heaven in play.

تُعَدُّ بِها عَلى الأُمَمِ اللَيالي

وَما تَدري السِنينَ وَلا الحِسابا

By her the nights are counted out against nations,

yet she knows neither the years nor the reckoning.

وَيا وَطَني لَقَيتُكَ بَعدَ يَأسٍ

كَأَنّي قَد لَقيتُ بِكَ الشَبابا

O my homeland, I have met you after despair,

as though in you I had regained my youth.

وَكُلُّ مُسافِرٍ سَيَئوبُ يَوماً

إِذا رُزِقَ السَلامَةَ وَالإِيابا

Every traveler will return one day,

if granted safety and homecoming.

وَلَو أَنّي دُعيتُ لَكُنتَ ديني

عَلَيهِ أُقابِلُ الحَتمَ المُجابا

Were I summoned, you would be my faith,

in which I would face the inevitable decree that must be answered.

أُديرُ إِلَيكَ قَبلَ البَيتِ وَجهي

إِذا فُهتُ الشَهادَةَ وَالمَتابا

I turn my face toward you before the Sacred House,

when I utter the profession of faith and repentance.

وَقَد سَبَقَت رَكائِبِيَ القَوافي

مُقَلَّدَةً أَزِمَّتَها طِرابا

Already my rhymes have outstripped my mounts,

exultant, with their reins looped round their necks.

تَجوبُ الدَهرَ نَحوَكَ وَالفَيافي

وَتَقتَحِمُ اللَيالِيَ لا العُبابا

They traverse time and deserts toward you,

and plunge through the nights, not the surging sea,

وَتُهديكَ الثَناءَ الحُرَّ تاجاً

عَلى تاجَيكَ مُؤتَلِقاً عُجابا

and offer you sincere praise as a crown,

gleaming and wondrous above your two crowns.

هَدانا ضَوءُ ثَغرِكَ مِن ثَلاثٍ

كَما تَهدي المُنَوَّرَةُ الرِكابا

Your harbor's light guided us from three nights away,

as the Radiant City guides the caravans.

وَقَد غَشِي المَنارُ البَحرَ نوراً

كَنارِ الطورِ جَلَّلَتِ الشِعابا

The lighthouse had spread its light across the sea,

like Sinai's fire enveloping the ravines.

وَقيلَ الثَغرُ فَاِتَّأَدَت فَأَرسَت

فَكانَت مِن ثَراكَ الطُهرِ قابا

Someone cried, 'The harbor!' She slowed, then anchored,

and lay a bow's length from your pure soil.

فَصَفحاً لِلزَمانِ لِصُبحِ يَومٍ

بِهِ أَضحى الزَمانُ إِلَيَّ ثابا

So let time be forgiven, for the dawn of a day

on which time returned to me.

وَحَيّا اللَهُ فِتياناً سِماحاً

كَسَوا عِطفَيَّ مِن فَخرٍ ثِيابا

May God bless those generous youths,

who clothed my shoulders in garments of pride.

مَلائِكَةٌ إِذا حَفّوكَ يَوماً

أَحَبَّكَ كُلُّ مَن تَلقى وَهابا

Angels—if ever they surround you,

everyone you meet will love you and stand in awe.

وَإِن حَمَلَتكَ أَيديهِم بُحوراً

بَلَغتَ عَلى أَكُفِّهِمُ السَحابا

And if their hands, like seas, should bear you,

you would reach the clouds upon their palms.

تَلَقَّوني بِكُلِّ أَغَرَّ زاهٍ

كَأَنَّ عَلى أَسِرَّتِهِ شَهابا

Each radiant, splendid youth came to greet me,

as though a meteor shone upon his brow.

تَرى الإيمانَ مُؤتَلِقاً عَلَيهِ

وَنورَ العِلمِ وَالكَرَمَ اللُبابا

You see faith gleaming upon him,

the light of knowledge, and purest generosity.

وَتَلمَحُ مِن وَضاءَةِ صَفحَتَيهِ

مُحَيّا مِصرَ رائِعَةً كَعابا

And in the radiance of his cheeks you glimpse

Egypt's face—a ravishing, full-breasted maiden.

وَما أَدَبي لِما أَسدَوهُ أَهلٌ

وَلَكِن مَن أَحَبَّ الشَيءَ حابى

My poetry is unworthy of what they bestowed,

but whoever loves a thing is partial to it.

شَبابَ النيلِ إِنَّ لَكُم لَصَوتاً

مُلَبّى حينَ يُرفَعُ مُستَجابا

Youth of the Nile, yours is indeed a voice

heeded and answered whenever it is raised.

فَهُزّوا العَرشَ بِالدَعَواتِ حَتّى

يُخَفِّفَ عَن كِنانَتِهِ العَذابا

Shake the Throne with prayers, until

He eases the torment of His quiver.

أَمِن حَربِ البَسوسِ إِلى غَلاءٍ

يَكادُ يُعيدُها سَبعاً صِعابا

From the War of al-Basus to rising prices

that all but bring the seven harsh years back?

وَهَل في القَومِ يوسُفُ يَتَّقيها

وَيُحسِنُ حِسبَةً وَيَرى صَوابا

Is there a Joseph among the people to ward it off,

to reckon well and judge aright?

عِبادَكَ رَبِّ قَد جاعوا بِمِصرٍ

أَنيلاً سُقتَ فيهِمُ أَم سَرابا

Your servants, Lord, have gone hungry in Egypt:

did You send a Nile among them, or a mirage?

حَنانَكَ وَاِهدِ لِلحُسنى تِجاراً

بِها مَلَكوا المَرافِقَ وَالرِقابا

Your mercy! Guide to goodness the merchants

who there control both livelihoods and necks.

وَرَقِّق لِلفَقيرِ بِها قُلوباً

مُحَجَّرَةً وَأَكباداً صِلابا

And soften toward the poor there hearts

turned to stone, and hardened livers.

أَمَن أَكَلَ اليَتيمَ لَهُ عِقابٌ

وَمَن أَكَلَ الفَقيرَ فَلا عِقابا

Is he who devours the orphan punished,

while he who devours the poor goes unpunished?

أُصيبَ مِنَ التُجارِ بِكُلِّ ضارٍ

أَشَدَّ مِنَ الزَمانِ عَلَيهِ نابا

The poor man suffers from every predatory merchant,

with fangs fiercer against him than time's.

يَكادُ إِذا غَذاهُ أَو كَساهُ

يُنازِعُهُ الحَشاشَةَ وَالإِهابا

When he feeds or clothes him, he almost

fights him for his last breath and his skin.

وَتَسمَعُ رَحمَةً في كُلِّ نادٍ

وَلَستَ تُحِسُّ لِلبِرِّ اِنتِدابا

You hear talk of mercy in every gathering,

yet sense no one volunteering for charity.

أَكُلٌّ في كِتابِ اللَهِ إِلّا

زَكاةَ المالِ لَيسَت فيهِ بابا

Does God's Book contain everything, except

alms on wealth, for which it has no chapter?

إِذا ما الطامِعونَ شَكَوا وَضَجّوا

فَدَعهُم وَاِسمَعِ الغَرثى السِغابا

When the greedy complain and clamor,

leave them, and listen to the hungry and famished.

فَما يَبكونُ مِن ثُكلٍ وَلَكِن

كَما تَصِفُ المُعَدِّدَةُ المُصابا

They do not weep from bereavement, but

like a professional mourner recounting a calamity.

وَلَم أَرَ مِثلَ شَوقِ الخَيرِ كَسباً

وَلا كَتِجارَةِ السوءِ اِكتِسابا

I have seen no gain like yearning for good,

nor profit-taking like trading in evil,

وَلا كَأُولَئِكَ البُؤَساءِ شاءً

إِذا جَوَّعتَها اِنتَشَرَت ذِئابا

nor sheep like those wretched souls,

who, if you starve them, scatter forth as wolves.

وَلَولا البِرُّ لَم يُبعَث رَسولٌ

وَلَم يَحمِل إِلى قَومٍ كِتابا

Without charity, no messenger would have been sent,

nor would he have brought a Book to a people.