كلّ يَومٍ أَروم أَن أَتَملّى
بِمُحيّاك البدرُ لاحَ وَأَسفَرْ
Each day I long to gaze my fill
upon your countenance—the full moon appeared and shone forth.
وَلَكم رمت اِحتَظي بِاِجتِماع
بِكَ وَالدّهر بَيننا يَتَعَذَّر
How often I have sought the joy of meeting
you, while Fate between us proved unyielding.
وَاللّيالي تَقول لي بِلِسانٍ
عَرَبِيٍّ أَبدى اِعتِذاراً وَأَظهَر
And the nights speak to me in a language—
Arabic—that voices an excuse and makes it plain:
هاكَ عُذري فَإِن حُرِمتَ اِجتماعاً
لا تَلُمني فَالاِجتِماعُ مُقدَّر
“Here is my excuse: if you are denied a meeting,
do not blame me—for meeting is foreordained.”
Sol 5.6