أعبيد يا ذات الهوى النزر — Bashar Ibn Burd

أَعُبَيدَ يا ذاتَ الهَوى النَزرِ

ثَقُلَت مُوَدَّتُكُم عَلى ظَهري

O ʿUbayd, whose love is scant,

your affection weighs upon my back.

لَو كُنتِ يا عَبّادَ صادِقَةً

بِالحُبِّ قارَبَ أَمرُكُم أَمري

If you, O ʿAbbād, were true

in love, your state would draw close to mine.

طُوِّقتِ صَبراً عَن زِيارَتِنا

وَيَقِلُّ عَن لُقيانِكُم صَبري

You were girded with patience to forgo visiting us,

but my patience for not seeing you dwindles.

العَينُ تَأمُلُ فيكِ قُرَّتَها

وَغِنىً لَها مِن داخِلِ الفَقرِ

My eye hopes to find its solace in you,

and wealth for itself from within poverty.

أَنتِ المُنى لِلنَفسِ خالِيَةً

وَحَديثُها في العُسرِ وَاليُسرِ

You are the soul's desire when it is alone,

and its conversation in hardship and ease.

فَتَحَرَّجي إِن كُنتِ مُؤمِنَةً

بِاللَهِ يا عَبّادَ مِن هَجري

So scrupulously refrain, if you are one who believes

in God, O ʿAbbād, from forsaking me.

لَو تَعلَمينَ بِما لَقيتُ بِكُم

لَفَدَيتِني بِالرَحمِ وَالصِهرِ

If you knew what I have suffered through you,

you would ransom me with ties of blood and marriage.

وَلَما بَخِلتِ بِمَشرَبٍ خَصِرٍ

مِن ريقِ أَشنَبَ طَيِّبِ الثَغرِ

Nor would you withhold a cooling draught

of saliva from a sweet mouth with cool, gleaming teeth.

جَمجَمتُ حُبَّكِ لا أَبوحُ بِهِ

سَنَتَينِ في حَقرٍ وَفي سَترِ

I concealed my love for you, not revealing it,

for two years in humiliation and secrecy,

حَتّى إِذا الكِتمانُ أَورَثَني

سُقماً وَضاقَ بِحُبِّكُم صَدري

until, when concealment had bequeathed me

sickness, and my breast grew tight with love for you,

عَنَّيتُ نَفساً غَيرَ آمِنَةٍ

في غَيرِ فاحِشَةٍ وَلا هُجرِ

I tormented a soul that knew no safety,

without indecency or foul speech.

أَشهى لِنَفسي لَو أُثَقِّلُها

وَلِما بِها مِن لَيلَةِ القَدرِ

You are more desirable to my soul, were I to burden it,

and to all within it, than the Night of Decree.

أَهذي بِكُم يَقظانَ قَد عَلِموا

وَأَبيتُ مِنكِ عَلى هَوى ذِكرِ

I rave about you awake—they know it—

and spend the night longing at the thought of you,

وَتَقَلَّبينَ وَأَنتِ لاهِيَةٌ

في الخَزِّ وَالقوهِيِّ وَالعِطرِ

while you turn about, carefree,

amid silk-and-wool cloth, Qūhī fabrics, and perfume.

أَعُبَيدَ هَلّا تَذكُرينَ فَتىً

تَيَّمتِهِ بِحَديثكِ السِحرِ

O ʿUbayd, will you not remember a young man

whom you enslaved with your bewitching talk?

لِلمَوتِ أَسبابٌ وَحُبُّكُمُ

سَبَبٌ لِمَوتي مُحصَدُ الشَزرِ

Death has its causes, and your love

is a cause of my death, a tightly twisted cord.

وَلَقَد عَلِمتُ سَبيلَ عِلَّتِكُم

فيما يَحِنُّ لِغَيرِكُم ظُفري

Indeed, I have learned the way to your affliction,

while my nail yearns for someone other than you.

فَفَلَلتُ كَفّي عَن مساءَتِكُم

فَظَلِلتُ واضِعَها عَلى سَحري

So I blunted my hand to keep it from harming you,

and kept it resting upon my chest,

طَمَعاً إِلَيكِ بِما أُؤمِّلُهُ

وَمَخافَةً أَن تَقطعي عُذري

in longing for you, for what I hope for,

and fearing you would cut off my excuse,

لِصَريمَةٍ غَلَبَت مُواصَلَتي

وَمَوَدَّةٍ زادَت عَلى وَفري

because of a firm resolve that overcame my attempts at union,

and an affection that exceeded my means.

إِنَّ المُحِبّينَ الَّذينَ هَفَت

أَحلامُهُم لِعَواقِدِ الخُمرِ

Indeed, the lovers whose

reason fluttered toward women who knot their veils

أَمَلوا وَخافوا مِن حَياتِهِمُ

وَعراً فَما وَأَلوا مِنَ الوَعرِ

hoped, and feared that their lives held

rough terrain—and never escaped that rough terrain.

نَزَلوا بِوادي المَوتِ إِذ عَشِقوا

فَتَتابَعوا شَفعاً عَلى وَترِ

They descended into the valley of death when they fell in love,

then followed one another, in pairs after single ones.

وَكَذاكِ مِن وادي وَفائِهِمُ

أَصبَحتُ مُجتَنِحاً عَلى سَفرِ

And likewise, from the valley of their fidelity,

I have come to lean forward on a journey,

ماضٍ وَمُرتَهَنٌ بِدائِهِمُ

فَنُفوسُهُم لِلِقائِهِم تَجري

going onward, held in pledge by their malady;

so their souls race to meet them.

يا صاحِ لا تَعجَل بِمَعذِلَتي

سَتَبيتُ مِن أَمري عَلى خُبرِ

O friend, do not hasten to reproach me;

you will pass the night knowing my plight.

وَاِعرِف بِقَلبي حينَ تَذكُرُهُ

أَن يُستَهامَ بِبَيضَةِ الخِدرِ

And know of my heart, when you recall it,

that it is enthralled by the chamber's egg-white maiden.

إِنَّ الهَوى جَثَمَت عَقارِبُهُ

فيهِ جُثومَ الفَرخِ في الوَكرِ

Love's scorpions have crouched

within it, as a nestling crouches in its nest,

يَومَ العَذارى يَستَطِفنَ بِها

مِثلَ النُجومِ يَطُفنَ بِالبَدرِ

on the day the maidens circled her

like stars circling the full moon.

لَم أَنسَها أُصُلاً وَقَد رَكِبَت

شَمسُ النَهارِ لأَرذَلِ العُمرِ

I have not forgotten her in late afternoon, when

the day's sun had entered life's most decrepit age,

وَدُموعُها مِمّا تُسِرُّ بِنا

تَجري عَلى الخَدَّينِ وَالنَحرِ

and her tears, from what she concealed about us,

flowed over her cheeks and upper chest.

فَاِغتالَ ذَلِكُمُ وَغَيَّرَهُ

عَصرٌ تَناسَخَها إِلى عَصرِ

Then all that was stealthily slain and changed

by an age that passed her onward to another age,

وَبيَاضُ يَومٍ بَعدَ لَيلَتِهِ

دانٍ مِنَ المَعروفِ بِالنُكرِ

and the whiteness of a day after its night,

drawing near to the familiar with strangeness.

أَنكَرتُ ما قَد كُنتُ أَعرِفُهُ

مِنها سِوى المَوعودِ وَالغَدرِ

What I once knew I no longer recognized

in her, except promises and betrayal.

وَالنَفسُ دانِيَةٌ بِمَلَّتِها

مِنها تُطيفُ بِها اِبنَةَ الدَهرِ

And the soul draws near, with its burning embers,

to her; the daughter of Time circles it.

إِنّي لأَخشى مِن تَذَكُّرِها

مَوتَ الفُجاءَةِ حَيثُ لا أَدري

I truly fear, from remembering her,

sudden death when I am unaware,

مِن خَفقَةٍ لَو دامَ عارِضُها

قَدرَ الفَواقِ وَفى لَها عُمري

from a palpitation whose bout, if it lasted

a brief pause in milking, would exhaust my life.

لَكِن تَأَخَّرَ يَومُ مُرتَهَنٍ

بِوَفاتِهِ فَوَعا عَلى كَسرِ

But delayed was the day of one held in pledge

to his death; he kept his senses despite being broken.

فَلَتَنزِلَنَّ بِهِ الَّتي نَزَلَت

يَوماً بِصاحِبِ عُروَةَ العُذري

Yet surely there will befall him what befell

one day the companion of ʿUrwah al-ʿUdhrī.

فَإِذا سَمِعتِ بَمَيِّتٍ حَزَناً

بَكَرَ الحِمامُ بِهِ وَلَم يَسرِ

So if you hear of someone dead from grief,

for whom Death came early, not journeying by night,

فَاِبكي عَلى قَبري مُفَجَّعَةً

وَلَقَلَّ مِنكِ بُكىً عَلى قَبري

then weep over my grave, grief-stricken,

though little indeed will you weep over my grave.

فَاِستَيقِني أَنّي المُصابُ بِكُم

عَجِلَت مَنِيَّتُهُ مَع الزَفرِ

Then be certain that I am the one stricken by you,

whose death came swiftly with a sigh.