ها هو الليل قد أتى فتعالي — Al Hamshari

ها هُوَ اللَيلُ قَد أَتى فَتَعالي

نَتَهادى عَلى ضِفافِ الرِمالِ

Here is the night—it has come, so come,

Let us glide along the banks of sand.

فَنَسيمُ المَساءِ يَسرِقُ عِطراً

مِن رِياضٍ سَحيقَةٍ في الخَيالِ

For the evening breeze steals a fragrance

From gardens far away in imagination.

صَوَّرَ المَغرِبُ الذَكِيُّ رُباها

فَهيَ تَحكي مَدينَةَ الأَحلامِ

The brilliant sunset painted their hills,

So they resemble the city of dreams.

نَفَحَت في الخَيالِ مِنها زُهورٌ

غَيرُ مَنظورَةٌ مِنَ الأَوهامِ

From it, flowers breathed fragrance into imagination,

Unseen, born of fancy.

وَوَراءَ السِياجِ زَهرَةُ فُل

غازَلَتها أَشِعَّةٌ في المَساءِ

And beyond the hedge, an Arabian jasmine blossom—

Rays of light courted it in the evening.

نَشرَ النَسمُ سِرَّها وَهوَ يَسري

في مُروجٍ مَطلولَةِ الأَفياءِ

The breeze spread its secret as it drifted

Through meadows whose shade was moist with dew.

وَدَهاليزُ مِنَ ظَلامٍ وَنورٍ

صَوَّرَت سِحرَها يَدُ الأَطيافِ

And corridors of darkness and light—

The hand of phantoms fashioned their enchantment.

عَشَّشَ البُلبُلُ الخَيالي فيها

ساكِباً لَحنَهُ الحَنونَ الصافي

The nightingale of imagination nested there,

Pouring out its tender, limpid melody.

إِنَّ هذي الأَزهارُ تَحلُمُ في اللَي

لِ وَعِطرُ النارِنجِ خَلفَ السِياجِ

Indeed, these flowers that dream in the night,

And the scent of bitter orange behind the hedge,

وَخَريرُ المِياهِ وَالشَفقُ السِح

رُ وَهَمساً مِنَ النَسيمِ الساجي

And the murmur of waters, and magical twilight,

And a whisper from the tranquil breeze,

وَالنَدى وَالظِلالُ تَنعِسُ في الما

ءِ وَهذا الشُعاعُ خَلفَ الغِمامِ

And dew, and shadows dozing in the water,

And this ray of light behind the clouds—

بَعضُ أَلحانِهِ تَأنَقُ فيها

فَتَراءَت في هذِهِ الأَجسامِ

Are some of its melodies, exquisitely fashioned within them,

And revealed in these forms.

قَبلَ هذي الحَياةِ كُنتُ أُصَلي

يا حَياتي لِحُسنِكِ المَعبودِ

Before this life I used to pray,

O my life, to your worshipped beauty.

فيكِ أَفنَيتُ أَدمُعي في غِنائي

فيكِ عَفَرتُ جَبهَتي في سُجودِ

For you I exhausted my tears in song;

For you I laid my brow in the dust in prostration.

وَعَلى مَذبَحِ الغَرامِ تَقَرَّب

تُ بِروحي في ذِلَّةٍ وَخُشوعِ

And on the altar of love I made an offering

Of my soul, in humility and reverence.

غَيرَ أَنّي رَأَيتُ هذا قَليلاً

فَتَقَرَّبتُ بَعدَها بِدُموعي

But I saw that this was little,

So afterward I made an offering of my tears.

كُنتِ في مَعبَدِ الخَيالِ تَرُفي

نَ إِلهاً وَكُنتُ مِن عُبدانِك

In imagination's temple you fluttered,

A deity, and I was one of your worshippers.

كَم بَعَثتُ الأَشعارَ فيهِ مَزامي

رِ تَجيبُ الحَزينَ مِن أَلحانِك

How often I sent forth poems there as psalms,

Answering the sorrowful strains of your melodies.

كُنتِ فَجراً وَكُنتُ فيهِ ضَباباً

شاعَ في أُفقِهِ الوَضيءِ فَتاها

You were a dawn, and I was mist within it,

Spreading through its radiant horizon, then wandering lost.

وَهَبَطَتِ الحَياةُ شُعلَةَ تَقدي

سٍ وَجِئتِ الحَياةَ أَنتِ إِلها

And life descended as a flame of sanctification,

And you came into life, a deity.

أَنتِ لَحنٌ مُقَدَّسٌ عُلوي

قَد تَهادى مِن عالَمٍ نوراني

You are a sacred, heavenly melody

That has glided from a world of light.

سَمِعَت وَقعَه السَماوي روحي

فَأَفاقَت في مَعبَدِ الأَحزانِ

My soul heard its heavenly cadence,

And awoke in the temple of sorrows.

أَنتِ حُلمٌ مَنورٌ ذَهَبِيٌّ

طافَ في أُفقِ عالَمٍ مَسحورِ

You are a luminous, golden dream

That roamed the horizon of an enchanted world,

وَتَجَلّى عَلى غَياهِبِ روحي

بِجَناحٍ مِنَ الضِياءِ البَشيرِ

And shone upon my soul's dark depths

With a wing of light bearing glad tidings.

أَنتِ عِطرٌ مُجَنَّحٌ شَفَقِيٌّ

فاوَحَ الروحَ في هُمودِ الذُهولِ

You are a winged fragrance of twilight

That perfumed the soul in the stillness of bewilderment.

قَد سَرى في الخَيالِ طيبَ شَذاه

مِن زُهورٍ في شاطىءٍ مَجهولِ

Its sweet scent has drifted through imagination

From flowers on an unknown shore.

أَنتِ ظِلٌّ مُقَدَّسٌ أَنتِ كَهفٌ

طائِفِيٌّ في رَبوَةِ الأَحلامِ

You are a sacred shade; you are a cave,

Spectral, on the hill of dreams.

غَمَرَ الروحَ في سَكينَتِها السِح

رُ فَتاهَت عَن عالَمِ الآلامِ

Magic flooded the soul in its tranquility,

So it wandered away from the world of pain.

أَنتِ كوخٌ مُعشَوشِبٌ في رُباةٍ

مُقمَرُ الصَمتِ سَرمَدِيُّ الخَيالِ

You are a grass-grown hut upon a hill,

Moonlit in silence, eternal in imagination.

نَعِسَت روحي الكَليلَةُ نَشوى

فيهِ تَرعى فَجرَيَ هذا الجَمالِ

My weary soul drowsed, intoxicated,

Within it, tending the twin dawns of this beauty.

أَنتِ صَمتٌ مُخيمٌ فَفَضاءٌ

فَظَلامٌ مُكَوكَبٌ فَنَهارُ

You are an enveloping silence, then space,

Then star-studded darkness, then day,

فَهُمودٌ تَدُبُّ فيهِ حَياةٌ

وَيُغَني في فَجرِها النَوبَهارُ

Then stillness in which life stirs,

And early spring sings at its dawn.

أَنتِ كُلُّ الحَياةِ أَنتِ كَياني

أَنتِ روحي أَبصَرتُها في سُباتي

You are all of life; you are my being.

You are my soul, which I beheld in my slumber.

أَنتِ وَحيي مُجَسَّداً أَنتِ لَحني

يا سَماءُ عَلى سَماءِ حَياتي

You are my inspiration embodied; you are my melody,

O sky above the sky of my life.

أَنتِ أَغوَيتِني بِأَن أَلقاكِ

خَلفَ سورِ الحَياةِ فَوقَ رُباكِ

You enticed me with the prospect of meeting you

Beyond life's wall, upon your hills.

غَيرَ أَنّي بَحَثتُ عَنكِ طَويلاً

وَأَخيراً نَعِستُ تَحتَ ذُراكِ

But I searched for you a long time,

And at last I drowsed beneath your heights.

أَيقِظيني مِنَ الذُهولِ وَغَنّي

يا مَلاكي عَلى طُلوعِ حَياتي

Awaken me from my stupor, and sing,

O my angel, at the dawning of my life.

وَأَرشِديني إِلى الضِياءِ وَإِلّا

فَاِترُكيني أَهوي إِلى ظُلماتي

And guide me to the light; or else

Let me fall into my darkness.

وَعَلى عالَمي الشِتائِيِ فيضي

نورَ دِفءٍ يُفني ظَلامِيَ الحالِكِ

And over my wintry world pour

A light of warmth that annihilates my pitch-black darkness.

وَاِرفَعيني كَمَعبَدٍ قُدسِيٍّ

تَتَهادى بِهِ طُيوفُ جَمالِكِ

And lift me up like a holy temple

Through which the phantoms of your beauty glide.

إِنَّني في الظَلامِ أَنصُبُ وَحدي

خَيمَةً لِلغِناء مِن آلامي

In the darkness, alone, I pitch

A tent for singing, made from my pain.

فَاِسمَعيني فَإِنَّني سَأُغَنّي

لَكِ جَتّا في وِحدَتي وَظَلامي

So listen to me, for I shall sing

For you, Jatta, in my solitude and darkness.