ما لِليَراعَةِ لا رِيعَت بِحادِثَةٍ

استَعجَمَت وَلِحِبري الآنَ قَد جَمُسا

What good are meadows with no spring rain,

Hastening growth before the mind is ready.

وَلِلقَوافي قَفَت مالي فَلا أَدبٌ

يُملى وَلا نَشَبٌ يُريح مُبتَئِسا

What good are rhymes when my muse has ceased,

No verse comes easily from the downcast bard.

فَصفحةِ الطِّرسِ مِن دَرّي مُعَطَّلَةٌ

وَرَسمُ جُوديَ إِذ قَلَّلتُ قَد دَرَسا

The page lies fallow though my hand holds the quill,

This charity of mine has faded and lies forgotten.

وَقَد ذَوت زَهَراتُ الشِعر وا أَسَفا

لَمّا غَدا ماءُ فكري غائِراً يَبَسا

The blossoms of poetry have withered.

Now my thoughts run dry like a wasted wadi.

كَأَنَّني لَم أُعَمِّر مُنتَدى أَدبٍ

وَلَم أَجُل لِلصِبا في حَلبَة فَرَسا

It's as if I never founded a hall of arts,

Never raced horses in the arena as a youth.

سَدَدتُ بابَ القِرا عَن كُلِّ مُلتمِس

إِن كُنتُ أَسكُنُ بَعدَ العامِ أَندَلُسا

I've locked the door of my library to all petitioners,

Though I dwell now in Andalusia, that former glory.

وَرُبَّ ذِي حَنَقٍ تَغلي مَراجِلُهُ

ناراً فَيشعِلُ من فيهِ لَنا قَبَسا

Full of bile are those whose pots boil over,

Lighting for us a fire to kindle our own passions.

رَأى سُموي وَما أُوتيتُ مِن شَرَفٍ

فَرامَ هَتكَ حِمىً مازالَ مُحتَرَسا

Seeing my reputation, though I'm not pretentious,

They try to breach the fortress I still keep defended.

حِمىً حماهُ حَمِيُّ الأَنفِ ذو كَرَمٍ

كَالأَسجَمِ اِنهَلَّ أَو كَالضَيغَمِ اِفتَرَسا

A fortress guarded by one of noble soul,

Whether provoked like a cobra or pouncing like a leopard.

مفَوَّهٌ إِن دَعا حُرَّ الكَلام أَتى

بديعُهُ نَحوَهُ مُستَعجِلا سَلِسا

Well-spoken, if eloquence demands, his words flow

Rapidly, smoothly, perfectly, and with delight.

فَمِن قَلائد يَعلُو الدُرُّ جَوهَرَها

وَمِن فَرائد يَجلُو نورُها الغَلَسا

Of necklaces, it's the gems that shine brightest.

Of poems, it's the subtlety that glows most splendid.

أَعجِب بِهِ مِن خَطيبٍ ماهِرٍ نَدسٍ

إِن قِستَ قَساً بِهِ تَخالُهُ وَدَسا

More wondrous than any silver-tongued orator,

Measured beside him, their boasts seem only empty chatter.

بَل العُجابُ مُقامي بَينَ ذي وَحَرٍ

وَحاسِدٍ بِسِوى الأَعراضِ ما نَبَسا

But most strange is my station between the jealous

And the sincere - though silent, their hearts have volumes unspoken.

قَومٌ إِذا غِبتُ قالوا ما يليقُ بِهم

وَإِن حَضَرتُ تَراهُم خُشَّعا نُكُسا

Some, when I'm absent, say things to suit themselves,

Yet in my presence they bow their heads, broken and bent.

ذَنبي إِلَيهِم نُفُوذي حينَ تفجَؤُهُم

مُسَغَّباتٌ يُدَلِّهنَ الفَتى النَدُسا

My crime, in their eyes, is my rising fortune

That catches them unawares, like birds snared in the night.

وَإِنَّني مثلُ ماءِ المُزنِ لا رَنَقٌ

كَذاكَ بردي نَقيٌ ما رَأى دَنَسا

But I'm like pure rainwater from the heavens,

Stainless and cool, though some may try to sully my name.

ما كانَ ضَرَّهُمُ لَو أَنصَفُوا رَجُلاً

ما نامَ وَهناً عَلى هَجرٍ وَلا هَجَسا

No harm if they'd only grant a man his due -

One who has lost sleep, exiled, wandering ceaselessly.

أَما دَرَوا أَنَّني لَو شِئتُ أَفضَحُهُم

بِمُفصِحاتٍ وَإِن أَبصَرتَها خُرُسا

Don't they know, if I wished, I could shame them all

With revelations, though seen by none but the mute?

مِن كُلِّ شارِدَةٍ عَذراءَ ناهِدَةٍ

يَكونُ إِهداؤُها لَهُم لَها عُرُسا

Seduce each maiden, dark-eyed and blameless,

Make her surrender to me her promised husband.

وَكُلِّ فاصِمَةٍ للظَهرِ قاصمةٍ

تَرُدُّ مَن كانَ جَذلانا حَليفَ أَسى

Tempt every slender-waisted girl from her virtue,

Lead back to me those whose hopes have all faded.

لَكن نَهانيَ عَنهُم أَنَّهُم نَجَسٌ

وَمقوَلي قَد أَبى أَن يذكُرَ النَجَسا

But my faith has forbidden the unclean to me,

So I shall not speak of the unclean in my verses.