وَمُهَفهَف عَبثَ السَقامُ بِجَفنِهِ

وَمُهَفهَف عَبثَ السَقامُ بِجَفنِهِ

وَسَرى فَخَيَّمَ في مَعاقِدِ خَصرِه

وَسَرى فَخَيَّمَ في مَعاقِدِ خَصرِه

And a slender one—illness toyed with his eyelid,

And crept onward, then encamped where his waist is girdled.

مَزَّقتُ أَثوابَ الظَلامِ بِثَغرِه

مَزَّقتُ أَثوابَ الظَلامِ بِثَغرِه

ثُمَّ اِنثَنى فَرَقَعتُهُنَّ بِشَعرِه

ثُمَّ اِنثَنى فَرَقَعتُهُنَّ بِشَعرِه

I tore the robes of darkness with his mouth,

Then he turned away, and I patched them with his hair.

وَتَعَلَّمَت أردافُهُ في مَشيِها

وَتَعَلَّمَت أردافُهُ في مَشيِها

خَفَقانَ قَلبي عِندَ ساعَةِ ذِكرِه

خَفَقانَ قَلبي عِندَ ساعَةِ ذِكرِه

And his hips learned, as they walked,

The flutter of my heart at the moment he is mentioned.

ما زِلتُ أولِعُ بِالبُكا مُتَعَرِّضاً

ما زِلتُ أولِعُ بِالبُكا مُتَعَرِّضاً

حَتّى ذَلَلتُ لِعَبدِهِ وَلِحُرِّه

حَتّى ذَلَلتُ لِعَبدِهِ وَلِحُرِّه

I kept indulging in tears, seeking his attention,

Until I was humbled before his slave and his freeman.

وَشَرِبتُ كَأسَ صُدودِهِ مُتَجَرِّعاً

وَشَرِبتُ كَأسَ صُدودِهِ مُتَجَرِّعاً

حَتّى بُليتُ بِحُلوِهِ وَبِمُرِّه

حَتّى بُليتُ بِحُلوِهِ وَبِمُرِّه

And I drank the cup of his rejection, gulp by gulp,

Until I was afflicted by his sweetness and his bitterness.

وَمُزَنَّرٍ يا لَيتَني زِنّارُهُ

وَمُزَنَّرٍ يا لَيتَني زِنّارُهُ

كَيما أَفوزَ بِضَمَّةٍ مِن خَصرِه

كَيما أَفوزَ بِضَمَّةٍ مِن خَصرِه

And one wearing a girdle—oh, if only I were his girdle,

So that I might win an embrace from his waist.

لَم أَنسَ لَمّا أَن أَتى في عيدِهِ

لَم أَنسَ لَمّا أَن أَتى في عيدِهِ

عيدِ التَشَعنُنِ وَالصَليبِ بِنَحرِه

عيدِ التَشَعنُنِ وَالصَليبِ بِنَحرِه

I have not forgotten when he came on his feast day,

The feast of Palm Sunday, with the cross at his throat,

والقَس يسقيهِ المَدامَ رَوِيَّةً

والقَس يسقيهِ المَدامَ رَوِيَّةً

وَالمُسلِمونَ بِأَسرِهِم في أَسرِه

وَالمُسلِمونَ بِأَسرِهِم في أَسرِه

And the priest gave him wine to drink, unhurriedly,

While the Muslims, one and all, were in his thrall.

قَد لَطَّفَتهُ يَدُ الهَوى فَكَأَنَّهُ

قَد لَطَّفَتهُ يَدُ الهَوى فَكَأَنَّهُ

كَالماءِ يُؤلِمُهُ النَسيمُ بِمَرِّه

كَالماءِ يُؤلِمُهُ النَسيمُ بِمَرِّه

Love's hand has made him delicate, so he seems

Like water: the breeze pains him as it passes.

فَاِحذَر مُذاكَرَةَ الفِراقِ فَإِنَّني

فَاِحذَر مُذاكَرَةَ الفِراقِ فَإِنَّني

أَخشى عَلَيهِ يَذوبُ ساعَةَ ذِكرِه

أَخشى عَلَيهِ يَذوبُ ساعَةَ ذِكرِه

So beware of speaking of separation, for I

Fear for him, lest he melt the moment it is mentioned.

فَيَكونُ مِن شَهداءِ أَوَّلِ مُرتَضى

فَيَكونُ مِن شَهداءِ أَوَّلِ مُرتَضى

وَتَعودُ أَنتَ وَقَد شَقَيتُ بِوَزرِه

وَتَعودُ أَنتَ وَقَد شَقَيتُ بِوَزرِه

So he would be among the martyrs of the first chosen one,

And you would return, while I had suffered under his burden of sin.

وَحَياتِهِ لَولا مَلاحَةِ وَجهِهِ

وَحَياتِهِ لَولا مَلاحَةِ وَجهِهِ

ماذَلَّ إِسلامي لِشِدَّةِ كُفرِه

ماذَلَّ إِسلامي لِشِدَّةِ كُفرِه

By his life, were it not for the beauty of his face,

My Islam would not have bowed before the force of his unbelief.