هجرنا الدن والحانا

وبدلنا من المنظوم

We forsook the wine jar and the tavern,

and exchanged verse

والمنثور قرآنا

فمن هود إلى طه

and prose for the Qur'an.

So, from Hud to Ta-Ha,

نرتلها ورحمانا

لتسبيح به برمت

we intone them, and al-Rahman,

to glorification that has wearied

مخارج قول سبحانا

ومن ورد فتحت له

the organs that utter 'Glory be!';

and from a litany for which I opened

بسوق الذكر دكانا

إلى ذقن أطلناها

a shop in the market of remembrance,

to a chin we have lengthened

بعثنون لتزدانا

لعل الرشد يمسكها

with a beard to adorn it.

Perhaps right guidance will hold it fast

إِذا ما الغي أرخانا

سلونا أم إِحسان

when waywardness lets us loose.

We forgot Umm Ihsan,

وجارتها وإِحسانا

وأصحاباً ألفناهم

and her neighbor, and Ihsan,

and companions we had grown fond of,

وخدنات وأخدانا

وطلقنا مغاني الأن

and intimates, women and men.

And we divorced the haunts of conviviality—

س أقداحاً وندمانا

فلا كأس تعل لها

goblets and drinking companions.

So no cup moistens the palate

ة صادي الشوق تحنانا

ولا وتر يعيد إِلى

of one parched with longing and yearning;

nor does a string bring back to

جوانحنا جوى بانا

سددنا عن سماع خلا

our breasts a departed ache of love.

We stopped our ears to every sound but

أذان الشيخ آذانا

فلا ذكرى تؤرقنا

the sheikh's call to prayer.

So no memory keeps us sleepless,

ولا آمال ترعانا

ولا حسناء تؤنسنا

nor do hopes watch over us,

nor does a beauty comfort us

صبابتها بمنفانا

كأنا لم نكن بالأمس

with her passion, in our exile.

As though we had not been yesterday

من سكان عمانا

ولم نسحب لكل هوى

among the inhabitants of Amman,

nor trailed, for every passion,

بوادي السير أردانا

ولا شم الهيام بغا

our sleeves through Wadi al-Sir;

nor had passion for the beauties

نيات الحصن ريانا

ولم تعرف أخا النش

of al-Husn caught our scent;

nor had the brother of raptures been known

وات بنت الكرم نشوانا

فلم نشرب ولم نطرب

to the daughter of the vine in his drunkenness.

So we did not drink or revel,

ولم نلعب بدنيانا

ولا قوضت للآ

nor play with our worldly life;

nor did I tear down sorrow's

لام بالأوهام بنيانا

ولا في جرعة الوس

edifice with illusions,

nor in a draught of whisky

كي قد أغرقت أحزانا

لعمر الخمر هذا الأ

have I drowned any sorrows.

By the life of wine, this matter

مر كاد يكون بهتانا

أأوراد وأَذكار

almost amounts to a blatant lie!

Litanies and invocations,

وقلب ذاب إِيمانا

فيا سلواننا الل

and a heart dissolved in faith?

So, O our forgetting of pleasures—

ذات لا بوركت سلوانا

أما بالنفس من

may you never be blessed, forgetfulness!

Is there not within the soul

أَحوالها بالأمس عنوانا

أما بالقلب يا قلبي

some sign of its state yesterday?

Are there not in the heart, O my heart,

بقايا من بقايانا

أمولانا أمولانا

remnants of what remains of us?

O our master, O our master,

بأيلة طال مثوانا

وكم بالحصن فاتنة

our stay in Ayla has grown long.

And many a beauty in al-Husn

تذوب أَسى لذاكرانا

سعادتنا برؤيتها

melts with grief at remembering us.

Our happiness lies in seeing her,

وغبطتها بمرآنا

تظن وكم لعمرك خي

and her delight in the sight of us—

so she thinks; and how often, by your life, has

ب القانون ظنانا

فقل للشوق أهل الذوق م

the law dashed our expectations!

So tell longing: the people of taste

ا اهتموا بشكوانا

وأبلغ شيخنا عبود

have paid no heed to our complaint.

And tell our sheikh Abbud

عنا بعض ما كانا

لنستفتيه هل صحت

on our behalf some of what happened,

so we may seek his ruling: is it sound—

بهذا الشكل تقوانا

our piety in this form?