أَنَا لَمْ أَكُنْ عِنْدَ الْغِيَابِ رَسُولَا

أَنَا لَمْ أَكُنْ عِنْدَ الْغِيَابِ رَسُولَا

لِأَذُودَ عَنْ دَمْعٍ بَقَى مَكْبُولَا

لِأَذُودَ عَنْ دَمْعٍ بَقَى مَكْبُولَا

I was no messenger in the time of absence,

I was not a messenger at the absence

to defend tears that remained shackled.

To ward off a tear that remained shackled

الْآَنَ أَعْرِفُهُ وَأَعْرِفُ خَطْوَهُ

الْآَنَ أَعْرِفُهُ وَأَعْرِفُ خَطْوَهُ

أَنْ كُنْتُ فِي الْمَعْنَى الْعَتِيقِ قَتِيلَا

أَنْ كُنْتُ فِي الْمَعْنَى الْعَتِيقِ قَتِيلَا

Now I know it, and I know its tread:

Now I know him and his path

that I was slain within the ancient meaning.

That I was in the ancient meaning a victim

مَا ذَنْبُ قَلْبِيَ أَنْ أَرَاهُ مُعَلَّقًا

مَا ذَنْبُ قَلْبِيَ أَنْ أَرَاهُ مُعَلَّقًا

بِهَوًى يُفَرِّدُ مَوْعِدًا مَجْهُولَا؟!

بِهَوًى يُفَرِّدُ مَوْعِدًا مَجْهُولَا؟!

What fault has my heart committed, that I see it suspended

What is the sin of my heart to see it hung

by a passion that singles out an unknown tryst?!

With a passion that sets an unknown appointment?!

فِي عِشْقِهَا الْأَبَدِيِّ صِرْتُ مُحَنَّطًا

فِي عِشْقِهَا الْأَبَدِيِّ صِرْتُ مُحَنَّطًا

لَا أَرْتَوِي غَيْرَ الْعَنَاءِ دَلِيلَا

لَا أَرْتَوِي غَيْرَ الْعَنَاءِ دَلِيلَا

In eternal love for her, I became embalmed,

In her eternal love I became embalmed

my thirst unquenched, with no guide but suffering.

I do not quench but hardship a guide

مَجْهُولَةٌ تِلْكَ الْخُطَا وَأَنِينُهَا

مَجْهُولَةٌ تِلْكَ الْخُطَا وَأَنِينُهَا

سَاقَ الْفُؤَادَ مُوَثَّقًا مَغْلُولَا

سَاقَ الْفُؤَادَ مُوَثَّقًا مَغْلُولَا

Unknown are those steps, and their moaning

Unknown are those footsteps and their moan

drove the heart, bound fast and shackled.

Led the heart shackled, handcuffed

سِجَّادَةُ الْمَعْنَى تَقُولُ لِنَاسِكٍ

سِجَّادَةُ الْمَعْنَى تَقُولُ لِنَاسِكٍ

أَغْوَيْتَنِي وَبَقَيْتَ فِيَّ نَزِيلَا

أَغْوَيْتَنِي وَبَقَيْتَ فِيَّ نَزِيلَا

The prayer rug of meaning says to an ascetic:

The prayer rug of meaning says to an ascetic

"You beguiled me and remained within me as a guest."

You have seduced me and remained residing in me

سِجَّادَةٌ قُدْسِيَّةٌ مَا خَانَهَا

سِجَّادَةٌ قُدْسِيَّةٌ مَا خَانَهَا

حُرْفٌ تَزَيَّا بِالنَّدَى إِكْلِيلَا

حُرْفٌ تَزَيَّا بِالنَّدَى إِكْلِيلَا

A sacred prayer rug, never betrayed

A sacred prayer rug that no letter betrayed

by a letter that wore dew as a crown.

Adorned with dew a wreath

قَلْبِي بِظِلِّ سَمَائِهَا مُتَمَسِّكٌ

قَلْبِي بِظِلِّ سَمَائِهَا مُتَمَسِّكٌ

لَا يَبْتَغِي مِنْ غَيْرِهَا تَكْحِيلَا

لَا يَبْتَغِي مِنْ غَيْرِهَا تَكْحِيلَا

My heart clings to the shade of her sky;

My heart clinging to the shade of her heavens

it seeks kohl from none but her.

Seeks no kohl other than hers

فَإِذَا دَنَا مِنْ أَيْكِهَا كَتَبَتْ لَهُ

فَإِذَا دَنَا مِنْ أَيْكِهَا كَتَبَتْ لَهُ

أنْ صَارَ عُمْرُكَ عِنْدَنَا مَوْصُولَا

أنْ صَارَ عُمْرُكَ عِنْدَنَا مَوْصُولَا

And when it nears her grove, she writes to it:

So when he approaches her precincts she wrote him

"Your life has now become joined with us."

That your life with us has become connected

مَا كُنْتُ أُخْطِئُ بُغْيَتِي حِينَ الْتَقَى

مَا كُنْتُ أُخْطِئُ بُغْيَتِي حِينَ الْتَقَى

قَلْبِي بِقَلْبِكِ فَابْتَدَا التَّأْوِيلَا

قَلْبِي بِقَلْبِكِ فَابْتَدَا التَّأْوِيلَا

I did not miss my aim when

I was not wrong in my seeking when

my heart met yours and began interpretation.

My heart met yours and interpretation began

اللهُ يَعْصِمُنِي إِذَا مَا جِئْتُهَا

اللهُ يَعْصِمُنِي إِذَا مَا جِئْتُهَا

لِأَقُولَ شِعْرًا سَامِقًا مَثْقُولَا

لِأَقُولَ شِعْرًا سَامِقًا مَثْقُولَا

God protects me whenever I come to her,

May God protect me when I come to her

to utter lofty, weighty verse.

To say towering heavy poetry

آَيَاتُ وَجْهِكِ يَا جَمِيلَةُ فِي الْلُغَا

آَيَاتُ وَجْهِكِ يَا جَمِيلَةُ فِي الْلُغَا

تِ، وَسِرُّهَا أَنْ كُنْتُ مِنْكِ عَلِيلَا

تِ، وَسِرُّهَا أَنْ كُنْتُ مِنْكِ عَلِيلَا

The signs of your face, O beautiful one, are in the languages,

The verses of your face, O beautiful one, in language

and their secret is that I was made ill by you.

And its secret is that I was sick for you

فَإِذَا رَضِيتِ بِشَاعِرٍ كُنْتِ الَّتِي

فَإِذَا رَضِيتِ بِشَاعِرٍ كُنْتِ الَّتِي

فِي شِعْرِهِ أُمَّ الْلُغَاتِ بَتُولَا

فِي شِعْرِهِ أُمَّ الْلُغَاتِ بَتُولَا

And if you are pleased with a poet, you are the one

So when you were pleased with a poet you were the one

who is a virgin in his verse, O mother of languages.

In whose poetry the mother of languages was chaste

وَالْحَرْفُ مِنْكِ تَقَطَّرَتْ أَطْرَافُهُ

وَالْحَرْفُ مِنْكِ تَقَطَّرَتْ أَطْرَافُهُ

عَسَلًا مُصَفًّى سَائِغًا وَزَلُولَا

عَسَلًا مُصَفًّى سَائِغًا وَزَلُولَا

And the letter from you—its edges dripped

And the letter from you its edges dripped

honey, filtered, palatable, and smooth-flowing.

Clear, delicious, flowing honey

أَشْعَلْتُ فِيكِ أَنَامِلِي فَتَبَخَّرَتْ

أَشْعَلْتُ فِيكِ أَنَامِلِي فَتَبَخَّرَتْ

شِعْرًا يُغَازِلُ فِي الْحَيَاةِ عَذُولَا

شِعْرًا يُغَازِلُ فِي الْحَيَاةِ عَذُولَا

I set my fingertips ablaze in you, and they evaporated

I ignited in you my fingers, and poetry evaporated

into verse that flirts with a reproacher in life.

That flirts with life, fickle

مَا كَيْدُ عُذَّالِي كَكَيْدِ مَحَارِمِي

مَا كَيْدُ عُذَّالِي كَكَيْدِ مَحَارِمِي

أَبْلَيْتُ فِيهِمْ قَائِلًا وَمَقُولَا

أَبْلَيْتُ فِيهِمْ قَائِلًا وَمَقُولَا

My reproachers' schemes are not like those of my close kin;

Not the cunning of my slanderers like the cunning of my in-laws

I strove among them, as speaker and spoken word.

I wore them out saying and being told

أَحْصَى الْإِلَهُ لُغَاتِهِمْ وَاخْتَارَكِ

أَحْصَى الْإِلَهُ لُغَاتِهِمْ وَاخْتَارَكِ

لُغَةَ الْقُرَانِ، فَأَوْثَقَ التَّنْزِيلَا

لُغَةَ الْقُرَانِ، فَأَوْثَقَ التَّنْزِيلَا

God counted their languages and chose you

God counted their languages and chose you

as the language of the Qur'an, thus securing revelation.

The language of the Quran, and affirmed the revelation

لُغَةٌ تَغَنَّى مِنْ مَحَاسِنِهَا الْأُلَى

لُغَةٌ تَغَنَّى مِنْ مَحَاسِنِهَا الْأُلَى

نَسَجُوا الْبَيَانَ مُعَتَّقًا وَظَلِيلَا

نَسَجُوا الْبَيَانَ مُعَتَّقًا وَظَلِيلَا

A language whose beauties were sung by those

A language in whose beauty the sublime sang

who wove eloquence, well-aged and full of shade.

They wove rhetoric shaded and leafy

أُمَّ الْلُغَاتِ، عَلَيْكِ مِنْ تَعْظِيمِهِ

أُمَّ الْلُغَاتِ، عَلَيْكِ مِنْ تَعْظِيمِهِ

فَإِذَا وَعَاكِ الْغَرْبُ كَانَ زَهُولَا

فَإِذَا وَعَاكِ الْغَرْبُ كَانَ زَهُولَا

O mother of languages, you bear a share of His exaltation;

Mother of languages, to you from his glorification

so if the West understood you, it would be astonished.

So when the West courts you it becomes withered