مَرَضي مِن مَريضَةِ الأَجفانِ
عَلِّلاني بِذِكرِها عَلِّلاني
My sickness from the ailment of eyelids,
Make me sick by mentioning her, make me sick
هَفَتِ الوُرقُ بِالرِياضِ وَناحَت
شَجوُ هذا الحَمامِ مِمّا شَجاني
The leaves in the garden rustled and lamented,
The cooing of this dove, from what pained me
بِأَبي طَفلَةٌ لَعوبٌ تَهادى
مِن بَناتِ الخُدورِ بَينَ الغَواني
By my father, a playful doe
Among the shy girls between the branches
طَلَعَت في العِيانِ شَمساً فَلَمّا
أَفلَت أَشرَقَت بِأُفقِ جَناني
She rose as a sun, but when
She set, she shone on my paradise’s horizon
يا طُلولاً بِرامَةٍ دارِساتٍ
كَم رَأَت مِن كَواعِبٍ وَحِسانِ
O slender and graceful cypresses
How many charming and alluring girls you have seen
بِأَبي ثُمَّ بي غَزالٌ رَبيبٌ
يَرتَعي بَينَ أَضلُعي في أَمانِ
By my father, then by me a beloved gazelle
Grazing between my ribs in safety
ما عَلَيهِ مِن نارِها فَهوَ نورٌ
هكَذا النورُ مُخمِدُ النيرانِ
Whatever fire of hers is on him becomes light
Thus light extinguishes fires
يا خَليلَيَّ عَرَّجا بِعِناني
لَأَرى رَسمَ دارِها بِعَياني
My friend, lead my reins
So I may see the outline of her abode before me
فَإِذا ما بَلَغتُما الدارَ حُطّا
وَبِها صاحِبَيَّ فَلتَبكِياني
When you both reach the house, dismount
And weep with my companion there, weep for me
وَقِفا بي عَلى الطُلولِ قَليلاً
نَتَباكى بَل أَبكِ مِمّا دَهاني
Stop at the slender cypress for a while
Let's cry, rather make me cry from what pains me
الهَوى راشِقي بِغَيرِ سِهامٍ
الهَوى قاتِلي بِغَيرِ سِنانِ
Passion struck me without arrows
Passion killed me without blades
عَرَّفاني إِذا بَكَيتُ لَدَيها
تُسعِداني عَلى البُكا تُسعِداني
When I cry before her, let me know
You make me happy with weeping, you make me happy
وَاِذكُرا لي حَديثَ هِندٍ وَلُبنى
وَسُلَيمى وَزَينَبٍ وَعِنانِ
And mention to me the tales of Hind, Lubna
Sulaima, Zainab and Inan
ثُمَّ زيداً مِن حاجِرٍ وَزَرودٍ
خَبراً عَن مَراتِعِ الغِزلانِ
Then Zaid from Hajir and Zaroud
News from the meadows of the gazelles
وَاِندُباني بِشِعرِ قَيسٍ وَلَيلى
وَبِمَيٍّ وَالمُبتَلى غَيلانِ
And mourn me with Qais and Layla’s poetry
And May and the afflicted Ghalyan
طالَ شَوقي لِطَفلَةٍ ذاتِ نَثرٍ
وَنِظامٍ وَمِنبَرٍ وَبَيانِ
My longing grew for Tofelah of prose
Composition, pulpit, and rhetoric
مِن بَناتِ المُلوكِ مِن دارِ فُرسٍ
مِن أَجَلَّ البِلادِ مِن أَصبَهانِ
Of the kings' daughters, from the land of Persia
From the best of lands, from Isfahan
هِيَ بِنتُ العِراقِ بِنتُ إِمامي
وَأَنا ضِدُّها سَليلُ يَماني
She is the daughter of Iraq, daughter of my Imam
While I oppose her, a Yemeni descendant
هَل رَأَيتُم يا سادَتي أَو سَمِعتُم
أَنَّ ضِدَّينِ قَطُّ يَجتَمِعانِ
Have you seen, my lords, or heard
Of opposites ever uniting?
لَو تَرانا بِرامَةٍ نَتَعاطى
أَكَؤساً لِلهَوى بِغَيرِ بَنانِ
If you could see us in Ramah drinking
Cups of passion without vines
وَالهَوى بَينَنا يَسوقُ حَديثاً
طَيِّباً مُطرِباً بِغَيرِ لِسانِ
Passion between us leads a conversation
Sweet, delightful without tongues
لَرَأَيتُم ما يَذهَبُ العَقلُ فيهِ
يَمَنٌ وَالعِراقُ مُعتَنِقانِ
You would see how reason goes in it
Yemen and Iraq embracing
كَذِبَ الشاعِرُ الَّذي قالَ قَبلي
وَبِأَحجارِ عَقلِهِ قَد رَماني
The poet before me lied when he said
Throwing stones of reason at me
أَيُّها المُنكِحُ الثُرَيّا سُهَيلاً
عَمرَكَ اللَهَ كَيفَ يَلتَقِيانِ
O matchmaker of Thurayya and Suhail
May God give you long life, how can they unite?
هِيَ شامِيَّةٌ إِذا ما اِستَهَلَّت
وَسُهَيلٌ إِذا اِستَهَلَّ يَماني
She is Syrian, and when the crescent rises
Suhail, when the crescent rises, is Yemeni
