إنَّلَها من لَوعةٍ شانا

أضرَمتِ الأحشاءَ نِيرانا

Indeed it has a burning passion

That lit my insides aflame

وحالفَت دَمعي ولم يُطفِها

وقَد جَرى سَحَّاً وتَهتانا

And my tears conspired and would not quench it

Flowing freely, lost and confused

والماءُ مازالَ عَدوَّاً لها

مُذ كانَتِ النَّارُ ومُذ كانا

While water remains its foe

Since fire began and since they both existed

لكنَّ في حَيني وفي شِقوتي

ما يَجعلُ الأعداءَ خُلانا

But in my time and misery

There is that which makes enemies intimate

وغادَةٍ قمتُ لتَوديعِها

أسعَى إلى التَّفريقِ عَجلانا

And when I stood to bid her farewell

Rushing to hasten our separation

فحارَ دَمعي وجَرى دمعُها

زوراً عَلى الحبِّ وبُهتانا

My tears flowed and her tears flowed

Falsely, over love and confused

ثم انثنَت قائِلةً ما لَه

لم يُبكِه البَينُ وأبكانا

Then she turned saying why should it

Not make him weep, but made me weep

فقلتُ جارَ الدَّمعُ في حُكمِه

فَفاضَ من أجفانِ أجفانا

So I said tears flow according to their judgement

And overflowed from eyelids over eyelids

أقسمتُ لَو أَصبَحَ ثقلُ الهَوى

ثِقلَ العُلى أصبحتُ سَعدانا

I swore if the heaviness of passion

Became as heavy as high status, I would be joyous

ذُو راحةٍ لم يَقتَنِع جُودها

إِلا بنسجِ العُدم وُجدانا

One whose generosity was not content

Except with weaving non-existence into existence

بَنَى ولَم يُعلَ عَلى ما بَنَى

ولَو عَلا أصبَحَ كِيوانا

He built but did not elevate what he built

And had he elevated it would become a landmark

وربَّما حطَّ النَّدي نفسَه

فَضلاً عَلى النَّاسِ وإِحسانا

And the critic may sometimes debase himself

With benevolence and kindness towards people

وكانَ ما يَفعلُه في العُلى

زِيادةً تُحسبُ نُقصانا

And what he does at the height

Is considered by some a decrease

ما كذَبَ الظنُّ الذي قادَني

إلى ابنِ قسَّامٍ ولا خانا

My assumption that led me

To the son of archers did not prove false

تُقِيمُ لي أخلاقُه كلَّما

قلتُ على ما قلتُ بُرهانا

His manners establish for me, whenever

I say what I say, proof

وإنَّما المَمدوحُ مَن لَم تَزل

أفعالُه في المَدحِ عُنوانا

For the object of praise is one whose actions

Remain, in praise, a title