ماذا عليَّ إذا نزلتُ بدارِها

وأقمتُ مثلَ اللصِّ خلفَ جِدارها

What fault is mine if I dwelt in her abode

And lingered there like a thief behind her wall?

وقطفتُ من حُزْنِ الحديقةِ دَمْعةً

وأجَبْتُ كأسي عن سؤالِ ثِمارها

If from the garden of sorrow I plucked a tear

And my cup gave answer to the questioning of its fruits?

وهمستُ في أذُن الهَواءِ بخفّةٍ

ليحطِّمَ الشُبّاكَ تحتَ سِتارها

If I whispered softly in the ear of the breeze

To shatter her window pane beneath its curtain,

فَأرَى الوسادةَ كيفَ يغفو طرْفُها

وحَدائقُ البِلّوْرِ حولَ إزارها!

That I might see how her pillow slumbers

And gardens of crystal around her hips?

ماذا عليَّ إذا نَظرْتُ بضِحكةٍ

للّيلِ وهو يَئِنُّ خَوْفَ نَهارها

What fault is mine if I looked with a smile

On the night as it moaned in fear of her dawn

والنحلُ مشغولٌ بجمْعِ رحيقهِ

من فتنةِ التفّاحِ فوق عِذارها

While the bees were busy gathering nectar

From the seductions of apples in their bloom?

فَشربتُ حتى أثمَلتني فكرتي

وَصَحوتُ أسألُ: ما السبيلُ لِدارِها؟

I drank until my mind was dizzy with thought

And awoke asking: What is the way to her house?