أَوهِ بَديلٌ مِن قَولَتي واهاً
لِمَن نَأَت وَالبَديلُ ذِكراها
"Alas!" replaces my cry of joy "Aha!", / For one who fled, leaving but her memory.
Alas for her whose charms I see no more, / Though she is the source of both my joy and pain.
أَوهِ لِمَن لا أَرى مَحاسِنَها
وَأَصلُ واهاً وَأَوهِ مَرآها
A damsel of Damascus—how often we withdrew, / Where she beheld her image in my gaze.
She kissed my eye to feign a tender ruse, / Yet sought but to kiss her own lips therein.
شامِيَّةٌ طالَما خَلَوتُ بِها
تُبصِرُ في ناظِري مُحَيّاها
Would that she were still dwelling in that lodge, / Would that my eye were still her dwelling place!
For every wounded soul, a cure is hoped, / Save for the heart struck down by her dark eyes.
فَقَبَّلَت ناظِري تُغالِطُني
وَإِنَّما قَبَّلَت بِهِ فاها
She dews my cheeks whenever she bestows a smile, / With rain that flashes lightning from her teeth.
The fragrance that her loosened braids shook forth / She mingled like rich spices in the wine.
فَلَيتَها لا تَزالُ آوِيَةً
وَلَيتَهُ لا يَزالُ مَأواها
In a land where veils are pitched for beauties rare, / Yet none among them bears her likeness true.
They met us shielded by the camel-domes, / Pearls they were, that melted into streams.
كُلُّ جَريحٍ تُرجى سَلامَتُهُ
إِلّا فُؤاداً دَهَتهُ عَيناها
Each wild oryx, whose dark and warning eye / Seems to declare: "Beware of you, and her!"
Among them is she for whom the swords drip blood / Whenever a lover dares to speak her name.
تَبُلُّ خَدَّيَّ كُلَّما اِبتَسَمَت
مِن مَطَرٍ بَرقُهُ ثَناياها
I yearn for Homs, and on to Khanasirah, / For every soul craves where it came to life.
Where her soft cheek met Lebanon's red fruit, / And my mouth tasted wine upon her lips.
ما نَفَضَت في يَدي غَدائِرُها
جَعَلَتهُ في المُدامِ أَفواها
I sang the desert summer for her sake, / And wintered in the waste, desiring her.
If a meadow bloomed, we grazed our herds therein; / If a tribe was named, we raided their abode.
في بَلَدٍ تُضرَبُ الحِجالُ بِهِ
عَلى حِسانٍ وَلَسنَ أَشباها
Or if a scattered herd of onagers appeared, / We hunted down the leaders with fierce steeds.
Or if a troop of camels crossed our path, / We left them hamstrung, hobbling at the fount.
لَقِينَنا وَالحُمولُ ساتِرَةٌ
وَهُنَّ دُرٌّ فَذُبنَ أَمواها
With horses chased and chasing in the fray, / Dragging the long spears and the short alike.
They glory in the slaughter of the brave, / Nor does Time grant them respite from the slain.
كُلُّ مَهاةٍ كَأَنَّ مُقلَتَها
تَقولُ إِيّاكُمُ وَإِيّاها
And I have looked on monarchs, one and all, / And journeyed till I saw their master true.
He in whose palm their very dooms reside, / Who commands death regarding them, or stays its hand.
فيهِنَّ مَن تَقطُرُ السُيوفُ دَماً
إِذا لِسانُ المُحِبِّ سَمّاها
Abu Shuja‘ of Persia! Adud al-Dawla! / Fanna Khusraw! King of Kings supreme!
Names that could add no luster to his fame, / Yet for the joy of speaking them, we speak.
أُحِبُّ حِمصاً إِلى خُناصِرَةٍ
وَكُلُّ نَفسٍ تُحِبُّ مَحياها
They draw the choicest words to grace our tongue, / As his great virtues draw the rain-cloud down.
He is the Precious One, whose distinct gifts / Are yet more precious than his hoarded gold.
حَيثُ اِلتَقى خَدُّها وَتُفّاحَ لُب
نانَ وَثَغري عَلى حُمَيّاها
Did his steeds know the bounds of his largesse, / They’d fear his favor meant they’d be bestowed.
You find no wine within his noble deeds; / If he drinks deep, he mends the lapse straightway.
وَصِفتُ فيها مَصيفَ بادِيَةٍ
شَتَوتُ بِالصَحصَحانِ مَشتاها
The wine accompanies his native grace, / Yet falls far short of his least charity.
His merriment brings joy to singing girls, / Until the aftermath removes that joy.
إِن أَعشَبَت رَوضَةٌ رَعَيناها
أَو ذُكِرَت حِلَّةٌ غَزَوناها
Through every gifted damsel, wailing loud, / Who snaps the strings of lute and lyre in grief.
Drifting like motes upon the rising foam / Of bounty flooding from the Prince's palm.
أَو عَرَضَت عانَةٌ مُقَزَّعَةٌ
صِدنا بِأُشرى الجِيادِ أولاها
His diadem shines brighter for his brow, / As words shine brighter for the truth they hold.
The East and West submit to his command, / While his soul deems the world a trifling thing.
أَو عَبَرَت هَجمَةٌ بِنا تُرِكَت
تَكوسُ بَينَ الشُروبِ عَقراها
High purposes have gathered in his heart; / Just one would fill the endless heart of Time.
And should Fate bring him eras yet more vast, / He would reveal ambitions vast enough.
وَالخَيلُ مَطرودَةٌ وَطارِدَةٌ
تَجُرُّ طولى القَنا وَقُصراها
Until two armies merged and moved as one, / The living stumbling blindly o'er the dead.
And stars revolved within a heavenly sphere, / Where moons bow down to the most bright of all.
يُعجِبُها قَتلُها الكُماةُ وَلا
يُنظِرُها الدَهرُ بَعدَ قَتلاها
The knight whose weapon strikes the soul with fear, / Whom War itself—and all its steeds—extol.
Did his hand deny its handiwork in war / From modesty, we’d know it all the same.
وَقَد رَأَيتُ المُلوكَ قاطِبَةً
وَسِرتُ حَتّى رَأَيتُ مَولاها
How could such deeds be hid, when sudden death / Is but a token of their overflow?
He has full right to tread with haughty step / Upon the world, its children, and its wealth.
وَمَن مَناياهُمُ بِراحَتِهِ
يَأمُرُها فيهِمِ وَيَنهاها
And should the world deny his grace and gift, / His soul would not forsake its noble path.
Just as the sun seeks neither gain nor praise / For all the light it sheds upon mankind.
أَبا شُجاعٍ بِفارِسٍ عَضُدَ ال
دَولَةِ فَنّاخُسرو شَهَنشاها
Let sultans be whoever they may be; / Turn thou to him, and stand above the rest.
Let not the title of "Emir" mislead, / Though held by men who boast of hollow power.
أَسامِياً لَم تَزِدهُ مَعرِفَةً
وَإِنَّما لَذَّةً ذَكَرناها
The true King is the master of a realm / Whose night-troops choke the horizons East and West;
Who smiles while other faces scowl in fear, / To whom the peace of foes is like their war.
تَقودُ مُستَحسَنَ الكَلامِ لَنا
كَما تَقودُ السَحابَ عُظماها
The people are like those who worship stones, / While he who serves this King serves God alone.
هُوَ النَفيسُ الَّذي مَواهِبُهُ
أَنفَسُ أَموالِهِ وَأَسناها
لَو فَطِنَت خَيلُهُ لِنائِلِهِ
لَم يُرضِها أَن تَراهُ يَرضاها
لا تَجِدُ الخَمرَ في مَكارِمِهِ
إِذا اِنتَشى خَلَّةً تَلافاها
تُصاحِبُ الراحُ أَريَحِيَّتَهُ
فَتَسقُطُ الراحُ دونَ أَدناها
تَسُرُّ طَرباتُهُ كَرائِنَهُ
ثُمَّ تُزيلُ السُرورَ عُقباها
بِكُلِّ مَوهوبَةٍ مُوَلوَلَةٍ
قاطِعَةٍ زيرَها وَمَثناها
تَعومُ عَومَ القَذاةِ في زَبَدٍ
مِن جودِ كَفِّ الأَميرِ يَغشاها
تُشرِقُ تيجانُهُ بِغُرَّتِهِ
إِشراقَ أَلفاظِهِ بِمَعناها
دانَ لَهُ شَرقُها وَمَغرِبُها
وَنَفسُهُ تَستَقِلُّ دُنياها
تَجَمَّعَت في فُؤادِهِ هِمَمٌ
مِلءُ فُؤادِ الزَمانِ إِحداها
فَإِن أَتى حَظُّها بِأَزمِنَةٍ
أَوسَعَ مِن ذا الزَمانِ أَبداها
وَصارَتِ الفَيلَقانِ واحِدَةٌ
تَعثُرُ أَحياؤُها بِمَوتاها
وَدارَتِ النَيِّراتُ في فَلَكٍ
تَسجُدُ أَقمارُها لِأَبهاها
الفارِسُ المُتَّقى السِلاحُ بِهِ ال
مُثني عَلَيهِ الوَغى وَخَيلاها
لَو أَنكَرَت مِن حَيائِها يَدُهُ
في الحَربِ آثارُها عَرَفناها
وَكَيفَ تَخفى الَّتي زِيادَتُها
وَناقِعُ المَوتِ بَعضُ سيماها
الواسِعُ العُذرِ أَن يَتيهَ عَلى ال
دُنيا وَأَبنائِها وَماتاها
لَو كَفَرَ العالَمونَ نِعمَتُهُ
لَما عَدَت نَفسُهُ سَجاياها
كَالشَمسِ لا تَبتَغي بِما صَنَعَت
مَنفَعَةً عِندَهُم وَلا جاها
وَلِّ السَلاطينَ مَن تَوَلّاها
وَاِلجَأ إِلَيهِ تَكُن حُدَيّاها
وَلا تَغُرَّنَّكَ الإِمارَةُ في
غَيرِ أَميرٍ وَإِن بِها باهى
فَإِنَّما المَلكُ رَبُّ مَملَكَةٍ
قَد فَغَمَ الخافِقَينَ سَرَيّاها
مُبتَسِمٌ وَالوُجوهُ عابِسَةٌ
سِلمُ العِدى عِندَهُ كَهَيجاها
الناسُ كَالعابِدينَ آلِهَةً
وَعَبدُهُ كَالمُوَحِّدُ اللَهَ
