أَمِن جَنابِهمُ النَّفْحُ الجَنُوبِيُّ

أَسْرَى فصاكَ به في الغَوْرِ غارِيُّ

Was it from their quarter—the southern breath—

that traveled by night and reached you with its scent, lonely in the lowland?

أَهْدَى إِليَّ ظَلاماً رَدْعَ نافِجةٍ

أَدْماءَ شَقَّ بها الدّأماءَ هنْدِيُّ

It bore you lavender and the stain of a musk-pod,

dusky-red; with it an Indian blade had cleft the blackness.

واللَّيْلُ قد قامَ في أَثْوابِ نادِبة

كأَنَّهُ فَوْقَ ظَهْرِ الأَرْضِ نُوبيُّ

Night had risen in its garments like a mourning woman,

as though it were a Nubian standing upon the earth’s back.

والنَّجْمُ تحْسَبُهُ قدّامَ تابِعِهِ

حَمامةً رامَها في الجَوِّ بازِيُّ

You would think the star, before the one that followed it,

a dove pursued through the sky by a hawk.

وجَدْوَلُ الأُفْقِ يَجْرِي في مَنافسِهِ

ماءٌ سَقى زَهْرةَ الخَضْراءِ فِضِيُّ

The horizon’s stream runs through its channels—

silver water that has watered the green earth’s flower.

فقُلْتُ والسُّقْمُ مَنْشُورٌ عَلى جَسَدِي

يحْدُو الرَّدَى ورِداءُ العَيْشِ مَطْوِيُّ

I said, while sickness lay spread across my body:

Death drives onward, and the robe of life is folded.

أَهْدَى اللَّمائِيُّ مِن أَزْهارِ فِكْرَتِهِ

نَشْراً فقالَ الدُّجى مَرَّ اللَّمَائِيُّ

Al-Lamāʾī offered, from the blossoms of his thought,

a fragrance; and darkness said, “Al-Lamāʾī has passed by.”

فقِيلَ ماتَ فقالَ اللَّيْلُ قاربَ ذا

فانْهَلَّ مِن مُقْلتي نَوْءٌ سِماكِيُّ

Then they said, “He has died.” Night said, “This man was my kin,”

and from my eyes poured a rainstorm of Simāk.

وبِتُّ فَرْداً أُناجِي مُقْلَتِي شَغَفاً

كأَنَّني في نُقُوبِ الدارِ جِنِّيُّ

I spent the night alone, ardently communing with my eyes,

as though I were a jinn within the house’s recesses.

لا عِشْتُ إِنْ مُتَّ لِي يا واحِدِي أَبداً

ومَوْتُنا واحِدٌ لا شَكَّ مرئِيُّ

May I not live, my only one, if you die and leave me—ever;

for our death is one, plainly seen and beyond doubt.

إِنَّ الكَرِيمَ إِذا ما ماتَ صاحِبُه

أَوْدَى بِهِ الوجْدُ وَالثُّكْلُ الطَّبِيعيُّ

When a noble man’s companion dies,

longing and the natural grief of bereavement destroy him.

إِنْ مُتُّ قبْلكَ لا تَعْجَبْ فذُو أَمَلٍ

قد حُمَّ مِن دُونِهِ يَوْماً حِمَاميُّ

If I die before you, do not marvel: a man of hope

may one day have his death decreed before he reaches it.

أَوْ مُتَّ قبْلي فما مَنْعَاكَ لِي عَجَبٌ

إِنَّ الكَرِيمَ إِلى الأَصْحابِ مَنْعِيُّ

Or if you die before me, no wonder you have shielded me:

the noble man is ever the protector of his companions.

زادَ البلاءُ على نَفْسِي فَأَعْدَمَها

صَبْرِي فصَبْرِي عَلَيْكَ اليَوْمَ وحْشِي

Affliction returned upon my soul and stripped it of

my patience—today, patience over you has become estranged—

حتَّى أَهِمَّ بقتلي كُلَّ داجِيَةٍ

يا قَوْم هل رامَ هذا قَبْلُ إِنسِيُّ

until, every dark night, I contemplate killing myself.

O people, did any mortal before me ever intend such a thing?

إِنِّي إِلى اللَّهِ مِن عُقْبَى بُليتُ بها

جَرَى بها الحُكْمُ والأَمْرُ الإِلهِيُّ

To God I entrust the outcome of the ordeal that befell me;

through it judgment and the divine command have taken their course.