مَرِضتُ لِطيفٍ كانَ مِنهُ صُدود

مَرِضتُ لِطيفٍ كانَ مِنهُ صُدود

عَسى طَيفُ سُعدى أَن يَعودَ يَعودُ

عَسى طَيفُ سُعدى أَن يَعودَ يَعودُ

I fell ill over a phantom that had shunned me;

I fell ill from the absence of a beloved who was distant

May Su'da's phantom return to visit me in my illness.

Perhaps the phantom of my bliss will return and recur

وَكَيفَ يَعودُ الطَّيفُ من بِفُؤادِهِ

وَكَيفَ يَعودُ الطَّيفُ من بِفُؤادِهِ

وفودٌ لِنيرانِ الهَوى وَوَقودُ

وفودٌ لِنيرانِ الهَوى وَوَقودُ

And how can the phantom visit one whose heart

And how can the phantom return from his heart

Receives the fires of passion and holds their fuel?

While it is fuel for the fires of passion and tinder

وَبِالعَلَمِ الفردِ الَّذي تعلمانه

وَبِالعَلَمِ الفردِ الَّذي تعلمانه

ظِباءٌ حَمَتها بِالظُباةِ أُسودُ

ظِباءٌ حَمَتها بِالظُباةِ أُسودُ

And on the solitary mountain you two know

By the unique, unmatched lesson we both learned

Are gazelles guarded by lions with sword-blades,

Gazelles took shelter among the black gazelles

وَبِيضٌ لَها البِيضُ الرِقاقُ لَواحِظٌ

وَبِيضٌ لَها البِيضُ الرِقاقُ لَواحِظٌ

وَسُمرٌ لَها السُمرُ الرِشاقُ قُدودُ

وَسُمرٌ لَها السُمرُ الرِشاقُ قُدودُ

And fair maidens whose glances are slender, gleaming swords,

And whites belong to her, the thin, delicate whites

And dusky maidens whose figures are slender, dark spears.

And chestnuts belong to her, the smooth, svelte chestnuts

لَقَد بَعُدَت مِنّي زَرودٌ وَأَينَ مِن

لَقَد بَعُدَت مِنّي زَرودٌ وَأَينَ مِن

كَئيبٍ بِأَبوابِ البَريدِ زَرودُ

كَئيبٍ بِأَبوابِ البَريدِ زَرودُ

Indeed, Zarud has grown far from me—and how far from

My visitor has been long absent, yet how far

A grieving man at the gates of al-Barid is Zarud!

Is the sullen lover from the gates of correspondence

وَبي غادَةٌ جيداءُ لمياءُ لَدنَةُ ال

وَبي غادَةٌ جيداءُ لمياءُ لَدنَةُ ال

مَعاطِفِ غَرثاءُ المَراشِفِ رُودُ

مَعاطِفِ غَرثاءُ المَراشِفِ رُودُ

And I am smitten with a maiden, long-necked, dark-lipped, supple of

And I have a slender-waisted, smooth-necked doe

Limb, slender-lipped and gentle,

Her gowns are ragged, her blankets are coarse

مُهَفهَفَةٌ رَيّا المُخَلخَلِ فَعمَةُ ال

مُهَفهَفَةٌ رَيّا المُخَلخَلِ فَعمَةُ ال

مُؤَزَّرِ غَرثى الخَصرِ فَهوَ جَهيدُ

مُؤَزَّرِ غَرثى الخَصرِ فَهوَ جَهيدُ

Slender, full where her anklets rest, ample beneath the

Disheveled, tousled, her waist wrap comes undone

Waistcloth, lean of waist, so her waist is sorely strained.

In her cheeks are wine and embers, lacking stillness or slumber

بِوَجنَتِها خمرٌ وَجمرٌ فَما لذا

بِوَجنَتِها خمرٌ وَجمرٌ فَما لذا

جُمودٌ وَلا في حَرِّ ذاكَ خُمودُ

جُمودٌ وَلا في حَرِّ ذاكَ خُمودُ

On her cheek are wine and embers: this wine never

When she walks, flowing in the dust behind her

Congeals, nor does the heat of those embers die out.

Are black tresses from those braids, dark black

إِذا ما مَشَت يَنسابُ في التُربِ خَلفَها

إِذا ما مَشَت يَنسابُ في التُربِ خَلفَها

أَساوِدُ من تِلكَ الضَفائِرِ سُودُ

أَساوِدُ من تِلكَ الضَفائِرِ سُودُ

Whenever she walks, through the dust behind her glide

What ruddy gazelle sings more sweetly

Black serpents formed of those black braids.

To make you forget she can barely bleat

وَما ظَبيَةٌ أَدماءُ تَزجي شُوَيدِناً

وَما ظَبيَةٌ أَدماءُ تَزجي شُوَيدِناً

أَغَنَّ فَعَنهُ ما تَكادُ تَحيدُ

أَغَنَّ فَعَنهُ ما تَكادُ تَحيدُ

No white doe urging onward a little fawn

Fate cast him a barbed arrow

With a nasal bleat, from whom she scarcely strays—

So blood flowed freely from his veins

أَتاحَت لَهُ الأَقدارُ سَهماً مُقَذَّذاً

أَتاحَت لَهُ الأَقدارُ سَهماً مُقَذَّذاً

فَلِلنَصلِ مِن حَبلِ الوَريدِ ورودُ

فَلِلنَصلِ مِن حَبلِ الوَريدِ ورودُ

Fate allotted him a feathered arrow,

She passed by in fear and bereavement while his body

So its point came to drink from his jugular vein;

Oozed with spilled blood

فَمَرَّت عَلى خَوفٍ وَثُكلٍ وَجيدُهُ

فَمَرَّت عَلى خَوفٍ وَثُكلٍ وَجيدُهُ

عَقيرٌ بِمَسفوحِ الدِّماءِ يَجودُ

عَقيرٌ بِمَسفوحِ الدِّماءِ يَجودُ

Then she went on in fear and bereavement, while his neck,

More agonized than I on the day of concealment, when

Slit open, freely poured forth its blood—

The caravan said "Where are you headed?"

بِأَوجَعَ مِنّي يَوم كاظِمَةٍ وَقَد

بِأَوجَعَ مِنّي يَوم كاظِمَةٍ وَقَد

ظعنتُ فَقالَ الرَكبُ أَينَ تُريدُ

ظعنتُ فَقالَ الرَكبُ أَينَ تُريدُ

Is more anguished than I on the day at Kazima, when

If I was asked what I wished for when

I departed, and the caravan asked, 'Where are you bound?'

Old age had left me frail, I'd say: "To return!"

فَلَو قيلَ لي ماذا تَمَنّى وَقَد خَدَت

فَلَو قيلَ لي ماذا تَمَنّى وَقَد خَدَت

بي العرمِسُ الوَجناءُ قُلتُ أَعودُ

بي العرمِسُ الوَجناءُ قُلتُ أَعودُ

So, were I asked, 'What do you wish?' as there sped

With me the sturdy, thick-cheeked she-camel, I would say, 'To return.'