انشر حديثا قديما كنت تطويه — Alshaghouri

اُنشُر حَديثاً قَديماً كُنتَ تَطويهِ

وَأَبدِ ذِكرَ حَبيبٍ كُنتَ تُخفيهِ

Unfold an old tale you used to keep folded away,

and reveal the memory of a beloved you used to conceal.

وَلا تُعَرِّض وَصَرِّح لا بِتَورِيَةٍ

وَلا تُمَرِّض وَصَحِّح لا بِتَمويهِ

Do not hint; speak plainly, without equivocation.

Do not hedge; affirm it, without disguise.

إِنَّ الحَبيبَ الَّذي هامَ الفُؤادُ بِهِ

هامٍ لَهُ دَمعُ عَيني إِذ أُسَمّيهِ

Indeed, the beloved with whom my heart is mad—

my eye's tears flow for him whenever I name him.

في ناظِرَيهِ وَفي فيهِ لِناظِرِهِ

ما لا يَلومُكَ يَوماً لائِمٌ فيهِ

In his two eyes and his mouth, for whoever beholds him,

is that for which no blamer can ever blame you.

لِلوَردِ وَالدُرِّ خَدّاهُ وَمَبسِمُهُ

وَلِلرُدَينِيِّ مُهتَزّاً تثنيهِ

Roses and pearls are his cheeks and smiling mouth;

his swaying bends are a Rudayni spear.

وَلِلأَقاحِ وَلِلتُفّاحِ مَبسَمُهُ

وَخَدُّهُ وَاِمتِياحي الراحَ من فيهِ

Daisies and apples are his smiling mouth

and his cheek—and I draw wine from his mouth.

مَن مُنصِفي مِن بَديعِ الحُسنِ مُعتدل ال

قَوامِ أَحوى كَحيلِ الطَرفِ ساجيهِ

Who will grant me justice against this marvel of beauty, balanced in

stature, dark-eyed, his gaze kohl-dark and tranquil?

حُلوُ المَعاطِفِ مُحلَولي المَراشِفِ مُه

تَزُّ الرَوادِفِ ما يَصحو مِنَ التيهِ

Graceful in his curves, honey-sweet upon the lips,

with swaying hips, never sobering from proud disdain.

ظَبيٌ مِنَ التُركِ لَم تَترُك لَواحِظُهُ

شَيئاً مِنَ الحُسنِ إِلّا وَهيَ تَحويهِ

A Turkish gazelle, whose glances have left

nothing of beauty that they do not possess.

ضاقَت عَلَيَّ بِهِ الدُنيا بِما رَحُبَت

لِلضيقِ في لَحظِهِ وَالضيق في فيهِ

Through him the world, for all its breadth, has closed upon me,

for the narrowness of his gaze and the narrowness of his mouth.

فِعل اليَغاليقِ أَدهى في الجُسومِ مِن ال

ياسيخِ مُندَفِعاً عَن قَوسِ راميهِ

The kerchiefs wreak more havoc on bodies than the

yasikh arrow shot from its archer's bow.

واهاً لَهُ كُلَّما اِرتَجَّت أَسافِلُهُ

وَآه مِنهُ إِذا اِهتَزَّت أَعاليهِ

Ah, for him, whenever his lower body quivers!

And ah, because of him, when his upper body sways!

تُديرُ كَأسينِ عَيناهُ وَمُقلَتُهُ

عَلى النَديمِ فَفي سُكرينِ تُلقيهِ

His eyes and his pupil pass around two cups

to the drinking companion, plunging him into double drunkenness.

فَأَوَّلُ الشَربِ سُكراً مِن هَواهُ أَنا

فَلي خِمارٌ عَسى فوهُ يُداويهِ

I am the first of the drinkers drunk on love of him;

I have a hangover his mouth may cure.

يا للرِجالِ لظَبيٍ صائِدٍ أَسَداً

قاسي الفُؤاد عَلى صَبٍّ يُقاسيهِ

Men, come help against a gazelle hunting a lion,

hard-hearted toward a passionate lover who suffers him!

يَجني عَلَيَّ فَأَستَحلي جنايَتَهُ

وَما أَمَرَّ وَما أَحلى تَجنيهِ

He wrongs me, yet I find his wrongdoing sweet;

how bitter, and how sweet, his offenses!

دَعني مِنَ الرَشَأِ النَجدِيِّ فَالرَشَأُ ال

تُركِيُّ أُوقِعتُ في أَشراكِ حُبّيهِ

Spare me the gazelle of Najd, for it is the

Turkish gazelle whose love has snared me.

فَصُدغُهُ صَولَجانٌ خالُهُ كُرَةٌ

وَالخالُ حَبَّةُ قَلبي لا أُخَلّيهِ

His temple-lock is a polo mallet, his mole a ball;

that mole is my heart's core: I will not let it go.

بِسَهمِ ناظِرِهِ عَن قَوسِ حاجِبِهِ

يَرمي فُؤادي عَلى عَمدٍ فَيُصميهِ

With the arrow of his gaze, from his eyebrow's bow,

he deliberately shoots my heart and strikes it dead.

وَلَستُ أَنظُرُهُ إِلا مُخالَسَةً

أَكادُ مِن تَرَفٍ بِاللَحظِ أُدميهِ

I look at him only furtively;

so delicate is he, I nearly draw his blood with a glance.

أَعيا تَلافيهِ صَبّاً لَيسَ يُشرِكُ في ال

هَوى وَكَم آي تَوحيدٍ تلافيهِ

Winning him back has wearied a lover devoted to him alone in

love; how many verses of oneness he has recited about him!

وَلَم يَزَل بَينَ عَذلٍ فيهِ يَدرَؤُهُ

عَنهُ وَواشٍ لَهُ شاوٍ يُداريهِ

He remains between reproaches for him, which he wards

away from him, and a scorching slanderer whom he humors.

شُربوشُهُ نَكَسَت مِنهُ عَمامَةُ مَن

في الحُبِّ دُلِّهَ فيهِ أَيَّ تَدليهِ

His sharbush bows the turban of one

utterly maddened by love for him.

وَما تَأَمَّلتُ وَجدي في مَحاسِنِهِ

إِلّا تَأَمَّلتُ وَجدي مِن مساويهِ

Never have I contemplated my passion for his beauties

without seeing that my passion springs from his faults.

مَتى تَحَرَّجتُ مِن شُربِ المُدامِ شدا

فَدَسَّ في أَدَبي خَمراً يُغَنّيهِ

Whenever I scruple to drink wine, he sings,

smuggling into my verse a wine he sings of.

يا مَن يَلومُ أعِد ذِكرى الحَبيبِ فَما

يُنسيهِ شَيءٌ بَلِ الأَيّامُ تُنشيهِ

O you who blame me, repeat the beloved's memory, for nothing

makes me forget him; rather, the days revive him.

وَاِذكُر دِمَشقَ فَإِنَّ اللَهَ فَضَّلَها

عَلى البِلادِ بِما لا يُمتَرى فيهِ

And recall Damascus, for God has favored her

above other lands with what cannot be doubted.

زَهَت بِجامِعِها وَالنَسرِ مُمتطِياً

قَوادِمَ النَسرِ تَتلوها خَوافيهِ

She glories in her great mosque, the Eagle riding

the Eagle's leading feathers, its trailing feathers following.

وَقَد أَناخَت عَلى الجَوزاءِ قُبَّتُهُ

تُبدي الهِلالَ الَّذي لا شَيءَ يُخفيهِ

Its dome has settled upon Gemini,

displaying the crescent that nothing can hide.

شَكَّت بِسَفّودِها جَوزَ الهِلالِ وَقَد

نَحَت بِهِ نَحوَ قَلبِ الحوتِ تَشويهِ

With her skewer she pierces the crescent's middle, and

turns it toward the Fish's heart to roast it.

وَبابُ جيرونَ قَد فارَت بِساحَتِهِ

فَوّارَةٌ هِيَ ظِئرُ الجَديِ تَرويهِ

At Jayrun Gate there has gushed, in its courtyard,

a fountain, wet nurse to the Kid, giving it drink.

يا حَبَّذا جَنَّةٌ بابُ البَريدِ بِها

وَالحُسنُ قَد حُشِيَت مِنهُ حَواشيهِ

How lovely a garden with Bab al-Barid within it,

and beauty filling all the gate's surroundings!

فَالمَرجُ فَالنَهرُ فَالقَصرُ المُنيفُ عَلى ال

قُصورِ فَالشَرَفُ الأَعلى فَبانيهِ

Then the meadow, the river, the palace towering above the

palaces, then al-Sharaf al-Aʿla and its builder;

فَالجِسرُ جِسرُ اِبنِ شَواسٍ فَنَيرَبُها

تَحلو مَعانيهِ لا تَخلو مَغانيهِ

then the bridge, Ibn Shawas's Bridge, then her Nayrab:

its charms are sweet, its haunts never deserted.

كَأَنَّ في رَأسِ عِلِّيينَ رَبوَتَها

يَجري بِها كَوثَرٌ سُبحانَ مُجريهِ

Her hill seems atop ʿIlliyyin;

a Kawthar flows there—glory to Him who makes it flow!

تِلكَ المَرابِعُ لا حَزوى وَكاظِمَةٌ

وَلا العَقيقُ بَواديهِ بِواديهِ

Those are the pleasure grounds—not Hazwa and Kazimah;

nor can al-ʿAqiq's open country match its valley.

أَقَلُّ شِعبٍ تَراهُ في دِمَشقَ يُوا

في شِعبَ بَوّانَ وافي الفَخر وَالتيهِ

The smallest ravine you see in Damascus can

match Bawwan's ravine, full of pride and vainglory.

دَع شِعبَ بَوانَ يا مَن بِالهَجينِ أَتى

مُطَهَّماً عَرَبِياً كَي يُباريهِ

Leave Bawwan's ravine, you who brought a crossbred

to race against a fine-built Arabian.

كَم يَوم سَبتٍ بَديعٍ في دِمَشقَ أَتى

بِحُسنِ مَن يوسُفُ الصديقُ يَحكيهِ

How many a wondrous Saturday has come in Damascus

with the beauty of one whom Joseph the Truthful resembles!

إِذا تَأَمَّلتَها مِن كُلِّ ناحِيَةٍ

دَعَتكَ لِلعَجَبِ البادي دَواعيهِ

When you contemplate her from every side,

her manifest wonders invite your amazement.

بِها الجَواسِقُ أَمثالَ المَراكِبِ في

بَحرِ البَساتينِ تَعلوها صَواريهِ

Her pavilions are like ships upon

a sea of orchards, its masts rising above them.

كَأَنَّ مِشمِشَها في دَوحِهِ ثَمَرُ ال

جِنانِ تَجنيهِ مِنها كَفُّ جانيهِ

Her apricots upon their spreading trees seem fruit of the

gardens of Paradise, gathered by the gatherer's hand.

كَأَنَّما كُلُّ غُصنٍ مِنهُ ذو كَرَمٍ

تَحُلُّ في الناسِ أَيدٍ مِن أَياديهِ

As though each branch of it were a generous lord,

whose bountiful hands descend among the people.

بِها الهَزاراتُ تَشدو في سَتائِرِ أَو

راقٍ فَنَحنُ بِما تَأتيهِ في التيهِ

Nightingales sing there behind curtains of

leaves; we are lost in wonder at their song.

كَأَنَّ نايَ زُنامٍ في مَناقِرِها

وعودُ إِسحَق تَتَلوهُ مَثانيهِ

It is as though Zunam's flute were in their beaks,

with Ishaq's lute, its paired strings following it.

كَأَنَّ في كُلِّ عودٍ عودَ جارِيَةٍ

بِصَدرِها مِنهُ مَولودٌ يُناغيهِ

As though each bough held a maiden's lute,

with its newborn at her breast, cooing back to it.

لا شَيءَ أَحسَنَ مِنها غَير سيرَةِ سُل

طانِ الأَنامِ الَّذي تَعلو مَعاليهِ

Nothing is lovelier than her, save the conduct of the

sultan of mankind, whose noble deeds rise high:

الظاهِرِ المَلِكِ الغازي الغِياثِ مَتى

يُعذَل عَلى الجودِ يَزدَد في تَناهيهِ

al-Zahir, the king, al-Ghazi, the succor—whenever

rebuked for generosity, he carries it still further.

كَأَنَّهُ في الوَرى فَصلُ الرَبيعِ زَهَت

في العامِ أَيّامُهُ حَتّى لَياليهِ

He is like spring among mankind; his days shine

throughout the year—even his nights.

فَلَم يَكُن خائِفاً في الناسِ آمِلُهُ

فَقراً وَلا خائِباً بِاليَأسِ راجيهِ

No one among men who hopes in him is fearful of

poverty, nor is his expectant seeker disappointed and despairing.

فَمِنهُ يَسعى إِلى الحَربِ اِبنُ بَجدَتِها

وَلِلنَجاحِ جَناحٌ في مَساعيهِ

From him a master of battle strides to war,

and success has a wing in his endeavors.

تَهابُهُ الخَيلُ وَالفُرسانُ هَيبَتَها

ذا اللِبدَتَينِ جَثا في الغيلِ يَحميهِ

Horses and horsemen fear him as they fear

a lion with twin manes, crouched in the thicket, guarding it.

لَمّا رَأَو أَنَّهُم مِن خَوفِ سَطوَتِهِ

نَعامُ دَوٍّ تَبارى في نَواحيهِ

When they saw themselves, for fear of his assault, as

ostriches of the waste, racing through its reaches,

أَمسَوا وَرَكضُهُمُ لَو كانَ في لَهَوا

تِ الطِفلِ ما كانَ ذاكَ الرَكضُ يُؤذيهِ

by evening their galloping, had it been in the

throat of a child, would not have hurt him.

بِبَأسِهِ أَمِنَ الثَغرُ المَخوفَ فَما

يَخافُ في الدَهرِ صدماً مِن دَواهيهِ

His might has freed the frontier from danger, so it

never fears a blow from time's calamities.

مَلكٌ لَدى الحَربِ تَستَخذي المُلوكُ لَهُ

ذُلاً وَفي السِلمِ تَستَجدي أَياديهِ

A king before whom kings submit in war,

in humiliation, and in peace beg for his favors.

تَبّاً لَنا إِن مَدَحنا غَيرَهُ مَلِكاً

بِالحَمدِ وَالمَدحِ وَالتَنويهِ نَنويهِ

Perdition on us if we praise another as king,

singling him out for acclaim, praise, and renown!

وَهوَ الجَديرُ بِشُكرِ الناسِ كُلِّهِمُ

وَمَدحِ كُلِّ اِمرِئٍ جادَت قَوافيهِ

He deserves the gratitude of all people,

and the praise of every person whose rhymes excel.

فَما رَأى الناسُ قِدماً مِثلَهُ مَلِكاً

كَلا وَلا بَعدُ لا زالَت مَعاليهِ

People never saw his like as king of old,

no, nor afterward—may his glories never cease!

وَمَن رَمى بِقَوافيهِ إِلى حَلَبٍ

يَحلُب بِها خَيرَ دَرٍّ مِن أَمانيهِ

Whoever sends his rhymes toward Aleppo

milks there the richest yield of all his hopes.

بَنى بِهِ اللَهُ لِلإِسلامِ في حَلَبٍ

سوراً مَنيعاً تَعالى اللَهُ بانيهِ

Through him God built for Islam in Aleppo

an impregnable wall—exalted be God, its builder!

أَساسُهُ العَدلُ وَالإِحسانُ يَدعَمُهُ

وَالنَصرُ يَثنيهِ وَالتَأييدُ يُعليهِ

Its foundation is justice; beneficence supports it,

victory reinforces it, and divine aid raises it high.

وَدونَهُ البيضُ بيضُ الهِندِ مُصلَتَةً

وَالسُّمرُ سُمرُ القنا تَدمى عَواليهِ

Before it are bright blades, Indian blades unsheathed,

and brown shafts, brown spears whose tips are bloodied.

كُلُّ المَمالِكِ تَرجو أَن تَكونَ لَهُ

مُلكاً أَنِلها إِلَهي ما تُرَجّيهِ

All kingdoms hope to become

his domain; my God, grant them what they hope for!

يا صَفوَةَ اللَهِ مِن بَدوٍ وَمِن حَضَرٍ

أَنتَ الَّذي لَم يَكُن خَلقٌ يُضاهيهِ

O God's chosen one from nomads and townsfolk,

you are he whom no creature has ever matched.

فَالبَدرُ يَقصُرُ باعاً أَن يُساجِلَهُ

وَالشَمسُ تَصغُرُ قَدراً أن تُباهيهِ

The full moon lacks the reach to rival him,

and the sun is too low in rank to vie with him.

وَهَل طَنينُ ذُبابِ السَيفِ في رَهَجٍ

يُرى طَنينُ ذُبابِ الصَّيفِ يَحكيهِ

Can the ringing of a sword's edge in battle-dust

be thought matched by the buzzing of summer flies?

وَهَل سَراب بِبَطنِ القاعِ مُلتَمِعٌ

كَالبَحرِ يَوماً إِذا جاشَت أَواذيهِ

Can a mirage glittering in a hollow plain

ever be like the sea when its waves surge?

وَما الغَضَنفَرُ في الآجامِ مُفتَرِساً

يَوماً بِأَفتَكَ مِنهُ في أَعاديهِ

Nor is a lion hunting in the thickets

ever more deadly than he among his enemies.

لَم يَبلُغِ الفُرسُ وَالأَتراكُ وَالعَرَبُ ال

ماضونَ وَالرومُ عُشراً مِن أَياديهِ

Never did the Persians, Turks, or Arabs of

old, nor the Romans, attain a tenth of his favors.

مَن تُبَّعٌ مَن أَنو شِروانَ مَن هُوَ سَل

جوقٌ وَمَن قَيصَرٌ في أَهلِ ناديهِ

Who is Tubbaʿ, who Anushirwan, who is

Seljuk, and who is Caesar among the men of his court?

يَرى بِآرائِهِ في اليَومِ أَمرَ غَدٍ

كَأَنَّما الغَيبُ بِالنَجوى يُناجيهِ

With his judgment he sees tomorrow's affairs today,

as though the unseen were whispering secrets to him.

فَما السَعادَةُ إِلّا في أَوامِرِهِ

وَلا السَعادَةُ إِلا في نَواهيهِ

Happiness lies only in his commands,

and happiness lies only in his prohibitions.

فَدَهرُنا بِلِسانِ الحالِ قالَ لَنا

بُشرى لِطائِعِهِ وَيلٌ لِعاصيهِ

Our age has told us in the language of circumstance:

Good tidings to whoever obeys him; woe to whoever defies him!

كَم صادَ أَصيَدَ قَسراً فَهوَ عانيهِ

يَبكي عَلى مَلكٍ وافاهُ ناعيهِ

How many a proud lord he has captured by force, now his prisoner,

weeping for a kingship whose death-tidings have reached him!

إِن كانَ أَهلوهُ ما بَينَ الوَرى شُهُباً

في مُلكِهِم فَهوَ شَمسٌ بَينَ أَهليهِ

If his kin among mankind were blazing stars

in their kingship, he is a sun among his kin.

يُغني عُفاةَ نَداهُ سَيبُ نائِلِهِ

جوداً وَيَفني عِداهُ سَيلُ واديهِ

The outpouring of his gifts enriches those who seek his bounty

so generously, while his valley's flood destroys his foes.

حَتّى إِذا ما رَأَوهُ راكِباً فَرَساً

تَرَجَّلَ الهامُ يَهوي عَن هَواديهِ

Until, when they see him mounted on a horse,

heads dismount, tumbling from their necks.

فَفي مَضَلَّتِها بَل في مَذَلَّتِها

تَهوي أَعاديهِ إِذ تَنوي تُناويهِ

In their delusion—rather, in their abasement—

his enemies fall when they intend to oppose him.

مِن خَوفِهِ اللَيلُ ما تَسري عَقارِبُهُ

عَلى الصَعيدِ وَلا تُؤذي أَفاعيهِ

For fear of him, night's scorpions never creep

over the earth, nor do its vipers harm.

وَقَد عَجِبتُ لِبَحرٍ طابَ فَاِرتَوَتِ ال

بِلادُ مِنهُ وَرَبعي لَيسَ يَسقيهِ

Yet I marvel at a sea grown sweet, from which the

lands drink their fill, while it does not water my dwelling.

هَذا وَما زِلتُ في كُلِّ المَحافِلِ مُث

نِياً عَلَيهِ فَما آلو دَواعيهِ

All this, though I have always, in every gathering,

praised him, neglecting no occasion to do so.

وَلي مَديحٌ يَهَشُّ السامِعونَ إِلى

سَماعِهِ فيهِ ما أَقوَت قَوافيهِ

I have a panegyric whose listeners are eager to

hear it in his praise; its rhymes have no discordant vowels.

يا لَيتَ نائِمَ حَظّي هَبَّ مُنتَبِهاً

بِيَقظَةٍ مِنهُ بَعدَ الفَقرِ تُغنيهِ

If only my sleeping fortune would spring awake,

roused by him to riches after poverty!

إِن يَفعَلِ الخَيرَ بي يَجزِ الإِلَهُ بِهِ

مَن يَفعَلِ الخَيرَ لا يَعدَم جَوازيهِ

If he does me good, may God reward him for it;

whoever does good never lacks its rewards.

فَنالَ مُلكَ سُلَيمانٍ وَعاشَ بِهِ

ما عاشَ نَوح سَعيداً في تَرَقّيهِ

May he gain Solomon's kingdom and live in it

as long as Noah lived, happy in his advancement.