سَلِ البَانَةَ الغَينَاءَ عن مَلْعَبِ الجُرْدِ

ورَوْضَتَها الغَنَّاءَ عن رَشَإِ الأَسْدِ

Ask the alluring doe about the foals' playground,

And her melodious meadow, about the lion's den,

وسَجْسَجَ ذاكَ الظِّلِّ عن مُلْهِبِ الحَشَا

وسَلْسَلَ ذاكَ الماءِ عن مُضْرِمِ الوَجْدِ

And the rustling of that shade, about the flaming embers,

And the clanking of that water, about the kindling passion.

فَعَهْدِي به في ذلك الدَّوْحِ كَانِساً

ومَنْ ليَ بالرُّجْعَى إلى ذلك العَهْدِ

My promise to him in that valley was to visit frequently,

But who will lead me back to that promise?

وفي الجنَّةِ الألْفَافِ أَحْوَرُ أَزْهَرٌ

تُلاعِبُ قُضْبَ الرَّنْدِ فيه قَنَا الهِنْدِ

In the thickets of Paradise are the most fragrant blossoms,

Sporting with the twigs of the trees and the stalks of Indian cane,

فأيُّ جَنَانٍ لم يُدَعْ نَهْبَ لَوْعَةٍ

وقد لاحَ من تلك المحاسِنِ في جُنْدِ

So what garden was not ravaged by overwhelming desire

When that beauty appeared among the hosts?

وفي صُدْغِهِ اللَّيْليِّ نارُ حُبَاحِبٍ

مِنَ القُرْطِ يَصْلاَهَا حَبَابٌ من العِقْدِ

In his dark cheek is the fire of flashes

From ear-rings that are lit by strings of pearls.

وفي زَنْدِهِ الرَّيَّانِ سُوْرٌ تَعَضُّهُ

فَيَدْمَى كما ثَارَ الشَّرارُ من الزَّنْدِ

In his supple waist are images that provoke him

So they blaze as the sparks fly from flint.

أُحاذِرُ أنْ يَنْقَدَّ لِيْناً فأَنْثَنِي

بِقَلْبٍ شَفِيقٍ من تَثَنِّيْهِ مُنْقَدِّ

I fear he may gently incline towards me

With a compassionate heart as he turns.

وقد جَرَحَتْ عَيْنَايَ صَفْحَةَ خَدِّهِ

على خَطَإٍ فاختار قَتْلِي على عَمْدٍ

His cheek wounded my eyes

Though he chose to murder me deliberately.

وآمُلُ من دَمعِي إلاَنَةَ قَلْبِهِ

ولا أَثَرٌ لِلْغَيْثِ في الحَجَرِ الصَّلْدِ

I hope my tears will soften his heart,

Though rain has no effect on solid rock.

وإنِّي بذاتِ الأَيْكِ أُسْعِدُ وُرْقَةُ

فهل عند ذاتِ الطَّوْقِ ما لِلْهَوَى عِنْدِي

With that glorious being I am the happiest leaf,

Does one with such a necklace have any passion for me?

ولكَ مِنْ نَهْرٍ صَؤوْلٍ مُجَلْجِلٍ

كأنَّ الثَّرَى مُزْنٌ به دائمُ الرَّعْدِ

You have a tumbling, roaring river

Where the ground always thunders.

إذا صافَحَتْهُ الرِّيْحُ تَصْقُلُ مَتْنَهُ

وتَصْنَعُ فيه صُنْعَ داودَ في السَّرْدِ

When the wind caresses its surface it polishes its course

And fashions it as David did his chainmail.

كأنَّ يَدَ المَلْك ابنِ مَعْنٍ مُحَمَّدٍ

تُفَجِّرُهُ مِنْ مَنْبَعِ الجُوْدِ والرِّفْدِ

It is as if the hand of Ma’n’s son Muhammad

Made it burst forth from the spring of generosity and bounty,

ويَرْفُلُ في أزهارِهِ واخضرارِهِ

كما رَفَلَتْ نُعْمَاهُ في حُلَلِ الحَمْدِ

It frolics amid its flowers and greenery

As God’s blessings frolic in robes of praise.

وقد وَرَدَتْ في غَمْرِهِ نُهَّلُ القَطَا

كما ازدَحَمَتْ في كَفِّه قُبَلُ الوَفْدِ

Wild cows have come down to drink in its flood

As pledges of devotion thronged into his palm.

مَفِيْضُ الأيادِي فوقَ أَدْنَى وأَرْفَعٍ

وصَوْبُ الغَوَادِي شامِلُ الغَوْرِ والنَّجْدِ

An outpouring of hands above the low and lofty,

The valley encompasses depth and elevation alike.

فَمِنْ جُوْدِهِ ما في الغَمَامةِ من حَياً

ومِنْ نُوْرِهِ ما في الغَزَالَةِ مِنْ وَقْدِ

From his generosity, what the clouds contain of life

And from his light, what the gazelle contains of fat!

تَلأْلأ كالإِفْرِنْدِ في صَارِمِ النُّهَى

وكُرِّرَ كالإبْرِيْزِ في جَاحِمِ الوَقْدِ

He gleams like the Frankish sword in the scabbard of resolve

And sparks like the flint in the kindling firebrand.

وإنْ وَلِهَتْ فيه أَذَيْهانُ مَعْشَرٍ

فلا فَضْلَ للأنوار في مُقْلَةِ الخُلْدِ

If he is obscured from some people’s minds

Light has no merit in the pupil of eternity.

ومِنْكَ أَخَذْنا القولَ فيكَ جَلاَلَةً

وما طابَ ماءُ الوِرْدِ إلاَّ من الوِرْدِ

From you we took the words, you are full of grace,

And rose-water is only sweetened by roses!