آيات وصلك يتلوها على الناس — Ibn Hajar Al Asqalani

آياتُ وَصلِكَ يَتلوها عَلى الناسِ

صبٌّ تحرِّكُهُ الذكرى إِلى الناسي

The verses of union with you he recites before the people—

a lovesick man whom remembrance stirs toward the one who forgets.

وَوعدُ وَصلِكَ دينٌ لا وَفاءَ لَهُ

فَلَيتَهُ كانَ بِالهُجرانِ يا قاسي

The promise of union with you is a debt never repaid;

if only it had been a promise of estrangement, O hard-hearted one!

كأسي مزجتُ بأَحزاني وَلي جَسَدٌ

عارٍ مِنَ العارِ لكن بِالضَنا كاسي

I mixed my cup with my sorrows, and I have a body

bare of shame, yet clothed in wasting sickness.

وَعفت بعدك طَعمَ الصبرِ حينَ غَدا

كأساً إِذا اِرتُشِفَت لَم يَنتشِ الحاسي

And after your departure I loathed the taste of patience, when it became

a cup that, when sipped, did not intoxicate its drinker.

يا ثانياً عطفَه عن مفردٍ دنفٍ

قَد باتَ يَضرب أَخماساً بِأَسداسِ

O you who turn your side away from a solitary, ailing lover,

who has spent the night striking fives against sixes in perplexity.

وَمَن إِذا لاحَ في خَدَّيه لي خضِرٌ

قابلتُ رَجواي من لقياه بالياسِ

And you, when green down—Khidr—appears to me upon your cheeks,

I meet my hope of seeing you with despair.

لا يَخشَ خَدُّكَ سُلواناً لعارضه

فَإِنَّهُ لِجراح القَلب كالآسِ

Let your cheek not fear being forgotten because of its down,

for it is like myrtle to the wounds of the heart.

قِف تَلقَ جفني بَعد الدَمعِ صَبَّ دماً

ما في وقوفِكَ عِندَ الصَبِّ من باسِ

Stop: you will find my eyelid has poured blood after tears.

There is no harm in your stopping beside the lovesick one.

مهفهفٌ لَو رآه الغصنُ منعطفاً

لَما تثنَّت بِهِ أَعطافُ ميّاسِ

Slender-waisted—if a bough saw him bending,

no swaying bough would bend its limbs beside him.

كَم قال لي حَليُهُ لما رأى وَلهي

خُذ في وقارِكَ واِتركني وَوسواسي

How often his jewelry said to me, when it saw my lovesick distraction:

Keep your composure, and leave me and my tinkling alone.

لا طعنَ فيهِ وَقَدُّ الرُمحِ قامتُهُ

لَكِنَّ قَلبي لَهُ أَضحى كَبُرجاسِ

No fault is found in him, and his stature is a spear's,

yet my heart has become a target for him.

ساق كَبَدرٍ يُدير الشَمسَ في يَدِهِ

قَد لانَ عِطفاً ولكن قَلبُهُ قاسِ

A cupbearer like the full moon turns the sun within his hand;

he is supple of side, yet his heart is hard.

أَضحى لعشّاقِهِ من رمحِ قامتهِ

طعنٌ ذكرنا بِهِ طاعونَ عَمواسِ

For his lovers there has come, from the spear of his stature,

a thrust that reminded us of the plague of Amwas.

وَخَدُّهُ إِن تبدّى تحتَ عارضِهِ

حسبتَهُ في الدُجى لألاءَ نبراسِ

And if his cheek appears beneath his facial down,

you would think it, in the darkness, the gleam of a lamp.

وَقَدُّهُ قَد رسا مِن تَحتِهِ كفلٌ

كالغُصنِ فَوقَ الكثيبِ الراسِخِ الراسى

And beneath his figure his buttocks are firmly set,

like a bough above a firmly rooted, settled dune.

بَسّامُ ثَغرٍ فَيا فَوزَ المشوقِ إِذا

لَم يَلقَهُ عِندَ رؤياهُ بِعبّاسِ

His mouth is all smiles—how fortunate the longing lover, if

he is not met, when he sees him, with a scowl.

وَطائِفٍ مِن بَني الشَيطانِ حاربني

فَكُلُّ ساعَةِ لَومٍ يَومُ أَوطاسِ

And a prowler from Satan's brood has waged war on me;

so every hour of reproach is a day of Awtas.

يَلومني في سموّي لِلعَلاءِ وَما

عِندي جَوابٌ سِوى أَنّي لَهُ خاسِ

He reproaches me for aspiring to lofty eminence, and

I have no reply except to drive him off in scorn.

قابلتُ بِاللَومِ زَجراً حينَ قُلتُ لَهُ

وَسّعتَ فكري أو ضَيَّقتَ أَنفاسي

I answered with reproach, rebuking him when I said:

You have broadened my thought—or constricted my breath.

أَنا الشِهابُ اِتّخذتُ الأُفقَ لي سكناً

لمّا علوتُ بِفَضلِ اللَهِ في الناسِ

I am Shihab, the meteor; I made the horizon my home,

when, by God's grace, I rose among the people.

الصاحِبُ الساحِبُ الذَيلَ العَفيف عَلى

سحبٍ تجاريه لا تنفكُّ في ياسِ

Al-Sahib, who trails his chaste hem over

clouds that vie with him, never free of despair.

إِنَّ السَحائِبَ إِذ جارته أَتعبَها

نَعَم وَفي النيلِ ما أَبعدتُ مقياسي

Indeed, when the clouds raced him, he exhausted them;

yes—and in the Nile of bounty, I have not set my gauge too far.

يُجانِس الأصلَ طيبُ الذكرِ مِنهُ فمن

شَهادَةِ القَلبِ ذا سارٍ وَذا راسي

The fragrance of his renown matches his root; by

the heart's testimony, one travels, the other stands firm.

قَد عَفَّ زُهداً فَلَم تُعرَف مآثمُهُ

لَكِنَّ ساعاتِهِ أَيّامُ أَعراسِ

He has kept chaste through renunciation; no sins of his are known,

yet his hours are days of wedding festivities.

إِن ماسَ في أَرضِ قرطاسٍ لَهُ قَلَمٌ

أَزرى بِغُصنٍ من الرَوضاتِ ميّاسِ

If his pen sways across a land of paper,

it puts a swaying garden bough to shame.

يراعة تطعَنُ الأَعدا وتطربُنا

وَتُجتَنى فَهيَ عودٌ ذاتُ أَجناسِ

A reed pen that pierces enemies and delights us,

and yields a harvest—a lute of many modes.

لَو أُلبِسَ الفارسيُّ الروح كانَ إِذاً

أَثنى عَلَيهِ بإِيضاحٍ وَإِلباسِ

If al-Farisi were clothed with life, he would then

praise him with clarity and ambiguity alike.

مِن أسرةٍ أَسروا الخطبَ الَّذي عجزت

عنه الأُلى شدّدوا العليا بأَمراسِ

From a family who took captive the crisis that defeated

those who secured the heights with ropes.

بَنو مَكانسِ غزلانُ المَجالسِ بَل

أسدُ الفَوارسِ في سلمٍ وَفي باسِ

Banu Makanis: gazelles of gatherings—rather,

lions among horsemen, in peace and in battle.

إِذا بَنوا شرفاً يَوماً عَلى شرفٍ

تَرى العَجائِبَ من إِحكام آساسِ

When, one day, they build honor upon honor,

you see marvels in their firmly laid foundations.

بِالفَخرِ قيل وَبالمَجدِ اِعتَلوا رتباً

لَم يرقهنَّ ابنُ عبّادِ بنِ عباسِ

With pride it was said: through glory they rose to ranks

never climbed by Ibn Abbad ibn Abbas.

تَرى عَجائِبَ مِن أَفعالِ مجدِهُمُ

لَولا العَيانُ أَباها كُلُّ قَيّاسِ

You see wonders among the deeds of their glory,

which every reasoner by analogy would reject, but for direct sight.

مَولايَ مَولايَ مجدَ الدينِ دعوة مَن

أَجرى إِلى مَدحِكُم غايات أَفراسِ

My lord, my lord, Majd al-Din—the plea of one

who raced steeds to their utmost limits in your praise.

إِن قَلَّ نُظماً وَأَنسى مدحَكُم زمناً

فَأَنتَ تَعفو كَثيراً عَن خَطا الناسِ

If my verse is scant and I forget your praise for a time,

then you forgive people's errors time and again.

وَإِن يَكُن دارسَ المغنى فَلا برحت

ربوعكم وَهيَ منكم غَيرُ أَدراسِ

And though the dwelling be effaced, may there ever remain

your abodes, unruined through you.

أَو ما رثى فالمديحُ أَجدرُ مع

أَنَّ الرِثاءَ كؤوسٌ تصرعُ الحاسي

Or if no elegy was offered, praise is more fitting, though

elegies are cups that lay their drinker low.

عَلى الشَهيدِ غمامُ العَفوِ تُبدِلُهُ

في اللَحدِ من بَعدِ إِيحاشٍ بإِيناسِ

May clouds of pardon over the martyr grant him

companionship in the grave in place of desolation.

وَدُمتَ أَنتَ كَما تَختارُ تخلُفُهُ

يا خَيرَ فرعٍ دنا من خيرِ أَغراسِ

And may you endure, succeeding him as you choose,

O finest branch, close to the finest stock.

طالَعتُ مجموعَكَ المبدي فَضائلَه

كَأَنَّهُ في المَعالي ضوءُ مقباسِ

I have read your collection, which displays its excellences,

as though it were a torch's light among lofty attainments.

في طَيِّهِ نشرُ طيبٍ لَم يَزَل عبقاً

مِن مِسكِ نقسٍ ومن كافورِ أَطراسِ

Within its folds a sweet scent spreads, ever fragrant,

from the musk of ink and the camphor of pages.

لا زِلتَ للأُدَبا رأساً وأصلُك قَد

رَسا فَأكرِم عَلى الحالَينِ بالراسِ

May you remain the head of men of letters; your root has

stood firm—how noble the head in either state!

وَدمتَ تعرى عَن الأسوا تَصومُ عَن ال

فحشا علاً وَسِواكَ الطاعِمُ الكاسي

And may you remain bare of evils, fasting from the

obscene in your loftiness, while others than you are fed and clothed,

ما لاحَ نجمٌ فأمّا في السَما فهدى

أَو في الثَرى فمن الريحانِ والآسِ

as long as a star appears—in the sky, a guide,

or on the earth, among sweet basil and myrtle.