1. لَعَمرُكَ ما ميعادُ عَينَيكَ وَالبُكا

    بِداراءَ إِلَّا أَن تَهُبَّ جنوبُ

    By your life, your eyes have no tryst with weeping

    at Dārāʾ except when a south wind blows.

  2. أُعاشِرُ في داراءَ مَن لا أُحِبُّه

    وَبِالرَّملِ مَهجورٌ إِلَيَّ حَبيبُ

    In Dārāʾ I keep company with one I do not love,

    while in the sands is a forsaken one, dear to me.

  3. إِذا راحَ رَكبٌ مُصعِدينَ فَقَلبُهُ

    مَعَ الرَّائِحينَ المُصعِدينَ جَنيبُ

    When a caravan sets off for the uplands, his heart

    is led along with those departing for the uplands.

  4. إِلى اللَّهِ أَشكو لا إِلى النَّاسِ أَنَّني

    بِتَيماءَ تَيماءِ اليَهودِ غَريبُ

    To God, not to people, I complain that I

    am a stranger in Taymāʾ, Taymāʾ of the Jews,

  5. وَأَني بِتَهبابِ الرِّياحِ مُوَكَّلٌ

    طَروبٌ إِذا هَبَّتْ عَلَيَّ جَنوبُ

    and that I am enthralled by the blowing of the winds,

    stirred with longing when a south wind blows upon me.

  6. وَإِن هَبَّ عُلْوِيُّ الرِّياحِ وَجَدتني

    كَأَنّي لعلويّ الرِّياحِ نَسيبُ

    And if the upland wind blows, you find me

    as though I were kin to the upland wind.

  7. وَإِنَّ الكَثِيبَ الفَردَ مِن جانِبِ الحِمى

    إِلَيَّ وإِن لَم آتِهِ لحَبيبُ

    And indeed the solitary dune beside the protected pasture

    is surely dear to me, though I have not visited it.

  8. وَلا خَيرَ في الدُّنيا إِذ أَنتَ لَم تَزُرْ

    حَبيباً وَلَم يَطرَبْ إِلَيكَ حَبيبُ

    And there is no good in the world when you have not visited

    a beloved, nor has a beloved yearned for you.

  9. وَكانَتْ رِياحُ الشامِ تكرَهُ مَرَّةً

    فَقَد جَعَلَتْ تِلكَ الرِّياحُ تَطيبُ

    And the winds of al-Shām were once disliked,

    but now those winds have begun to grow pleasant.

  10. هَنيئاً لِخوطٍ مِن بَشامٍ يُرفّه

    إِلى بَرَدٍ شهدٌ بِهِنَّ مَشوبُ

    Good fortune to a balsam twig, pampered

    at teeth like hailstones, with honey mingled among them,

  11. بِما قَد تَسَقّى مِن سُلافٍ وَضَمّه

    بنانٌ كَهُدّابِ الدّمَقسِ خَضيبُ

    for the choice wine it has drunk, and for being clasped

    by dyed fingertips like fringes of fine silk.

  12. إِذا تَرَكتُ وَحشِيَّةَ النَجدِ لَم يَكُن

    لِعَينَيكَ مِمَّا تَشكَوانِ طَبيبُ

    If I leave the wild one of Najd, there will be

    no physician for what ails your eyes.