أَعاذِلَتي قَومي اِنظُرى قَد بَدا البَدرُ

وَلا تَعذُليني في عِذارَيهِ لي عُذرُ

O you who reproach me, rise and look—the full moon has appeared.

Do not blame me for the down upon his cheeks; I have my excuse.

بِمَن تُحدِقُ الأَحداقُ طُرّاً إِذا مَشى

وَيَخجَلُ مِن أَعطافِهِ الغُصُنُ النَضرُ

For one whom every eye encompasses whenever he walks,

and whose supple grace makes the fresh bough blush.

سِوى ما يَحيكُ الناسُ ما بي لِأَجلِهِ

فَلا زَيدٌ اللاحِيَ عَلَيهِ وَلا عَمرو

Apart from what people recount, nothing troubles me for his sake—

neither Zayd, who reproaches me over him, nor ʿAmr.

يَقولُ إِذا ما رُمتَ ضَمّاً وَريقَةً

مَتى صيدَتِ العَنقاءُ أَو حَلَّت الخَمرُ

Whenever I seek an embrace and a taste of his lips, he says:

“When was the phoenix ever caught, or wine ever made lawful?”

وَكَم لَيلَةٍ قَد لاحَ مِن صُدغِهِ الدُجى

وَمِن كَأسِهِ الجَوزا وَمِن فَمِهِ الفَجرُ

How many a night has darkness gleamed from his temple-lock,

al-Jawzāʾ from his goblet, and dawn from his mouth.

وَكَم أَخَذَت أَوتارُهُ الثَأرَ مِن دَمي

سُحَيراً فَقالَ الناسُ هَذا هُوَ السِحرُ

How often have his strings exacted blood-vengeance from my blood

just before dawn, until people said, “This is sorcery itself.”

يُشارِكُني حَذقاً فَمِن عِندَهُ الغِنا

إِذا ما تَنادَمنا وَمِن عِنديَ الشِعرُ

He is my peer in artistry: from him comes song

when we sit as wine-companions—and from me comes poetry.