بُروقُ الغَوادي أَم بُروقُ المَباسِمِ

بُروقُ الغَوادي أَم بُروقُ المَباسِمِ

أَشاقَكَ وَهناً أَم هَديلَ الحَمائِمِ

أَشاقَكَ وَهناً أَم هَديلَ الحَمائِمِ

Was it the lightning of morning rainclouds, or the gleam of smiling mouths,

Are they the lightnings of the valleys or the lightnings of the smiling mouths?

That stirred your longing late at night—or the cooing of doves?

It has enfeebled me, whether it is your languor or the cooing of the doves.

كَأَنَّ بِكَ الوَجدَ الَّذي بي مِنَ الأَسى

كَأَنَّ بِكَ الوَجدَ الَّذي بي مِنَ الأَسى

وَقَد عيلَ صَبري بَينَ واشٍ وَلائِمِ

وَقَد عيلَ صَبري بَينَ واشٍ وَلائِمِ

As though you bear the same sorrowful longing as I,

It is as if the passion in me is from sorrow,

And my patience is spent between a tale-bearer and a reproacher.

And my patience has weakened between a companion and acquaintances.

تُؤَرِّقُ وُرقُ الغوطَتَينِ لَواحِظي

تُؤَرِّقُ وُرقُ الغوطَتَينِ لَواحِظي

وَيُنحِلُ جِسمي حُبُّ غُزلانَ جاسِمِ

وَيُنحِلُ جِسمي حُبُّ غُزلانَ جاسِمِ

The gray doves of the two Ghoutas keep my eyes sleepless,

The leaves of the branches tremble for my observers,

And love of Jasim’s gazelles wastes my body.

And my body melts from love of the handsome gazelle.

أَأَحبابَنا إِن كُنتُم قَد عَزَمتُمُ

أَأَحبابَنا إِن كُنتُم قَد عَزَمتُمُ

عَلى البُعدِ عَن أَطلالِكُم وَالمَعالِمِ

عَلى البُعدِ عَن أَطلالِكُم وَالمَعالِمِ

O our beloved ones, if you have resolved

O my loved ones, if you have decided

To leave your ruined dwellings and landmarks far behind,

To be far from your ruins and landmarks,

فَلا تَرسِلوا بَرقاً إِلى غَيرِ ساهِرٍ

فَلا تَرسِلوا بَرقاً إِلى غَيرِ ساهِرٍ

وَلا تَبعَثوا طَيفاً إِلى غَيرِ نائِمِ

وَلا تَبعَثوا طَيفاً إِلى غَيرِ نائِمِ

Then send no lightning to anyone but one who keeps vigil,

Then do not send a lightning bolt to other than one awake

And send no phantom to anyone but a sleeper.

Nor dispatch an apparition to other than a sleeper.

أَعاذِلُ فيمَن لَستُ أَسلو أَذابَني

أَعاذِلُ فيمَن لَستُ أَسلو أَذابَني

فَلَو شِئتُ مِن سَقَمي تَمَنطَقتُ خاتَمي

فَلَو شِئتُ مِن سَقَمي تَمَنطَقتُ خاتَمي

O you who reproach me for one I cannot forget—he has melted me away,

I blame those I do not question, who melted me,

So wasted by my sickness, I could, if I wished, wear my ring as a belt.

If I wanted, my seal would have spoken from my sickness.

ذَرِ العَذلَ في تَسكابِ طَرفي لِطَرفِهِ

ذَرِ العَذلَ في تَسكابِ طَرفي لِطَرفِهِ

وَلا تَدخُلَن ما بَينَ ساجٍ وَساجِمِ

وَلا تَدخُلَن ما بَينَ ساجٍ وَساجِمِ

Cease reproaching my eye for pouring tears for his eye,

Leave off blaming the overflowing of my eyes to his eyes

And never intrude between a languid eye and a tear-streaming one.

And do not enter what is between a friend and friends.