تَقولُ صَفيَّةَ وَالصَفوُ مِنها
لِغَيري حينَ قَرَّبَتِ الجَمالا
Safiyya says—though her pure affection
is another’s—as I brought the camels near:
وَقَد سَفَرَت لَنا عَن بَدرٍ تَمٍ
غَداةَ البَينِ وَاِنتَقَبَت هِلالا
She had unveiled before us a full moon
on parting’s dawn, then veiled herself into a crescent.
أَتَصبِر إِن هَجَرنا أَو بَعُدنا
فَقُلتُ نَعَم نَعَم وَالقَلبُ لا لا
“Will you be patient if we forsake you, or go far away?”
“Yes, yes,” I said—while the heart said, “No, no.”
يَخافُ البُعدَ مَن أَلِفَ التَداني
وَيَخشى الهَجرَ مَن عَرفِ الوِصالا
Whoever has grown used to nearness fears distance,
and whoever has known union dreads being forsaken.
Sol 5.6