سقاها وحيا تربها وابل القطر — Al Manfaluti

سقاها وحيّا تربها وابلُ القطرِ

وإن أصبحت قفراءَ في مهمةٍ قفرِ

May the downpour water it and greet its soil,

Though it has become desolate in a barren wilderness.

طواها البلى طيَّ الشحيحِ رداءَه

وليس لما يطوى الجديدانِ من نشرِ

Decay folded it away as a miser folds his cloak,

And what night and day fold away can never be unfolded.

مَرابضُ آسادٍ ومأوى أراقِمٍ

تجاوَرُ في قيعانِها الغيلُ بالجُحر

Lairs of lions and a refuge for speckled serpents,

Where thicket and burrow adjoin in its hollows.

يكادُ يَضلُّ النجمُ في عَرَصاتِها

ويزوَرّ عن ظلمائِها البَدرُ من ذُعرِ

A star could almost lose its way in its courtyards,

And the full moon turns from its darkness in terror.

لقد فَعَلت أيدي السوافي بنؤيها

وأحجارها ما يفعل الدهر بالحر

The hands of windblown sands have done to its encircling trench

And its stones what time does to a free man.

وَقَفتُ بها في وَحشةِ الليل وَقفةً

أثارَ شجاها كامِنُ الوجد في صَدرى

I stood there in the loneliness of night,

The longing hidden in my breast stirring the sorrow of that pause.

ذكرتُ بها العَهدَ القدِيمَ الذي مضى

ولم يَبقَ منهُ غيرُ بالٍ من الذكر

There I recalled the old days that had passed,

Of which only a faded trace of memory remained,

وعيشاً حَسِبناهُ من الحُسنِ رَوضَةً

كساها الحيا منهُ أفانينَ من زَهر

And a life we thought, for its beauty, a garden

That rain had clothed in that beauty's varied flowers.

فأنشَأتُ أبكي والأَسى يتبع الأَسَى

إلى اَن رأَيتُ الصخرَ يَبكي إلى الصخر

Then I began to weep, grief following grief,

Until I saw stone weeping to stone.

وما حيلةُ المَحزُونِ إلا لواعجٌ

تفيضُ بها الأحشاءُ أو عبرَةٌ تَجري

What recourse has the sorrowful but burning pangs

With which the heart overflows, or a flowing tear?

وما أنسَ مِ الأَشياءِ لا أنسَ ليلةً

جَلاها الدُجى قَمراءَ في ساحةِ القَصرِ

Whatever things I forget, I will not forget a night

That darkness unveiled, moonlit, in the palace courtyard.

كأنَّ النجومَ في أديمِ سمائِها

سَفائِنُ فَوضَى سابحاتٌ على النهر

As though the stars on the skin of its sky

Were scattered ships sailing upon the river;

كأنَّ الثريا في الدُجنةِ طرةٌ

مرصعةُ الأطرافِ باللؤلؤِ النَثرِ

As though the Pleiades in the darkness were a fringe

Studded at its edges with scattered pearls;

كأن السُّهَا حقٌّ تعرضَ باطلٌ

إليه فألقى دونَه مُسبَلَ السِّترِ

As though al-Suha were a truth that falsehood challenged,

Casting a hanging veil before it;

كأن الدجى فحمٌ سَرى في سَوادِه

من الفَجر نارٌ فاستحالَ إلى جَمرِ

As though darkness were coal, through whose blackness had crept

A fire from dawn, transforming it to embers;

كأنَّ نَسيمَ الفَجرِ في الجوِّ خاطرٌ

من الشعر يَجري في فضاءِ من الفكرِ

As though dawn's breeze in the air were a passing thought

Of poetry flowing through a realm of thought.

وفي القَصرِ بين الظلِّ والماءِ غادَةٌ

تَميسُ بلا سُكرٍ وتَنأى بِلا كِبرِ

And in the palace, amid shade and water, was a graceful maiden,

Swaying without drunkenness, withdrawing without pride.

تُريكَ عيوناً ناطقاتٍ صَوامِتاً

فما شئتَ من خَمرٍ وما شِئتَ من سِحر

She showed you eyes that spoke, yet were silent:

As much wine as you wished, as much enchantment as you wished.

لهوتُ بها حتَّى قَضَى الليلُ نَحبَهُ

وأدرجَهُ المِقدارُ في كَفَنِ الفَجرِ

I dallied with her until the night met its end,

And fate wrapped it in the shroud of dawn.

لعمركَ ما راحت بِلُبّى صَبَابةٌ

ولا نازعتني مُهجَتِي سورةُ الخَمرِ

By your life, no yearning has carried off my reason,

Nor has wine's surge contended with me for my soul.

ولا هاجَني وجدٌ ولا رسمُ مَنزلٍ

عَفاءٍ ولكن هكذا سنَّةُ الشِّعرِ

No longing stirred me, nor the trace of a dwelling

Effaced—but such is poetry's custom.

ومَن كان ذَا نفسٍ كنفسي قريحةٍ

من الهمّ لا يُعنى بوصلٍ ولا هجَرِ

Whoever has a soul like mine, wounded

By care, pays no heed to union or estrangement.

كأني ولم أسلخ ثلاثين حِجّةً

ولم يَجرِ يوماً خاطرُ الشيّبِ في شَعري

I seem—though I have not yet shed thirty years,

And no thought of gray has ever crossed my hair—

أخو مائةٍ تَمشي الهُوَينا كأنَّه

إذا ما مشى في السّهلِ في جَبَلٍ وَعر

A man of a hundred, walking slowly, as though,

When walking on level ground, he were on a rugged mountain.

إذا شابَ قلبُ المرءِ شابَ رجاؤُه

وشابَ هواهُ وهوَ في ضَحوةِ العُمرِ

When a man's heart grows old, his hope grows old,

And his passion grows old, though he is in life's forenoon.

حَييتُ بآمالي فلمّا كَذَبنَنِي

قنعتُ فلم أحفِل بِقُلٍّ ولا كُثرِ

I lived by my hopes; when they proved false to me,

I became content, caring neither for little nor for much.

وأصبحت لا أرجو سِوَى الجَرعةِ التي

أذوقُ إذا ما ذقتها راحةَ القبر

And now I hope for nothing but the draught that,

When I taste it, lets me taste the repose of the grave.

وليسَت حياةُ المرءِ إلا أمانياً

إذا هي ضاعت فالحياة على الإِثر

A man's life is nothing but hopes;

Once they are lost, life follows in their wake.

جزى اللَه عني اليأسَ خيراً فإنه

كفاني ما ألقى من الأملِ المر

May God reward despair well on my behalf, for it

Has spared me the suffering of bitter hope.

وراضَ جماحي للزمان وحُكمِه

بما شاءَ من عدلٍ وما شاءَ من جُور

And tamed my defiance to time and its judgment,

Whatever justice it wills, whatever injustice.

فما أنا إن ساءَ الزمانُ بساخطٍ

ولا أنا إن سر الزمانُ بِمُغتَر

So I am not resentful when time brings misfortune,

Nor am I deluded when time brings joy.

إذا ما سفيهٌ نالني منه قادِحٌ

من الذمّ لم يُحرِج بموقِفه صَدري

When a cutting barb from some fool reaches me

In censure, his conduct does not trouble my heart.

أعودُ إلى نفسي فإن كان صادِقاً

عَتَبتُ على نفسي واصلحت من أمري

I turn back to myself; if he has spoken truth,

I reproach myself and set my affairs right.

وإلا فما ذنبي إلى الناس إن طغى

هواها فما ترضى بخيرٍ ولا شر

Otherwise, how am I to blame before people, if

Their whims run wild, and neither good nor evil pleases them?

أمولاي عذراً إن للهم صرعةً

تطير بسر المرءِ من حيث لا يدري

My master, pardon me: sorrow has a staggering blow

That sends a man's secret flying before he knows it.

وإني لأتحيي لقاءَكَ شاكياً

وأنت الذي ألهمتني خلق الصبرِ

I am indeed ashamed to meet you complaining,

When you are the one who taught me the virtue of patience,

وأوردتني من بحرِ علمِكَ مَورِداً

أمنتُ به الكفرانَ في موضعِ الشُّكر

And brought me to a watering-place in the sea of your learning.

There I was safe from ingratitude where gratitude was due.

لك القلمُ العضبُ الذي فل غربه

من الشرك ما أعيى على البيض والسمر

Yours is the keen-edged pen, whose point has shattered

The idolatry that defied bright swords and dusky spears.

إذا جن ليل الشك طلى ظلامه

بفجرٍ من الآيات والحججِ الغُرِّ

When doubt's night falls, it paints its darkness

With a dawn of signs and radiant proofs.

لك العزةُ القعساءُ والسؤدد الذي

تخرّ لديهِ هامةُ الأنجمِ الزُّهرِ

Yours are unassailable honor and a majesty

Before which the heads of shining stars bow down.

وما صاحبُ العرشِ المُدِلِّ بتاجِه

بأعرقَ مَجداً مِنكَ في مَوقِف الفَخر

No throne-holder, proud of his crown,

Is more deeply rooted in glory than you in the arena of pride.

وكَم بَينَ عَرشٍ من لجينٍ وعَسجدٍ

يُصاغُ وعرشٍ من سناءٍ ومِن ذِكر

How far apart are a throne of silver and gold

That is fashioned, and a throne of splendor and renown!

وكم بَينَ مَجدِ الدين والعلم والتقى

ومجدِ القصُورِ الشم والعَسكَر المَجرِ

How far apart are the glory of religion, learning and piety,

And the glory of lofty palaces and a vast army!

لكَ النائِلُ المعروفُ غيرَ مكدِّرٍ

تُشَيِّعُهُ بَين الطَلاقَةِ والبِشرِ

Yours is renowned bounty, untainted,

Which you send forth with cordiality and cheer.

إذا ابتدرَ الناسُ المكارَمَ نِلتَها

بسابقِ عَزمٍ لا يَملُّ مِنَ الحصرِ

When people race for noble deeds, you win them

With a racing resolve that never wearies under strain.

فلا زلتَ مَهدِياً ولا زلتَ هادِياً

تروحُ إلى خَيرٍ وتغدُو إلى بِرّ

May you ever be guided, and ever be a guide,

Going each evening to goodness, each morning to righteousness.

ولا زَالَتِ الأَعيادُ تَترَى وفودُها

بما شِئتَ مِن عزٍ وما شئتَ مِن عُمرِ

And may the festivals' delegations keep arriving in succession,

With all the glory you wish and all the years you desire.