نَرى عِظَماً بِالبَينِ وَالصَدُّ أَعظَمُ

وَنَتَّهِمُ الواشينَ وَالدَمعُ مِنهُمُ

We see greatness in the evident, and estrangement is greater,

We view our parting as a great calamity, yet rejection is a greater blow,

We blame the slanderers, while tears flow from them.

We cast blame on the slanderers, yet our own flowing tears betray us.

وَمَن لُبُّهُ مَع غَيرِهِ كَيفَ حالُهُ

وَمَن سِرُّهُ في جَفنِهِ كَيفَ يَكتُمُ

He whose heart lies with another, how is his state?

How fares the man whose heart and mind reside within another's breast?

He whose secret lies in his eyelids, how can he conceal it?

And how can he conceal a secret that floods from his weeping eyelids?

وَلَمّا اِلتَقَينا وَالنَوى وَرَقيبُنا

غَفولانِ عَنّا ظِلتُ أَبكي وَتَبسِمُ

When we met, while the purpose and watcher were heedless of us,

When we met—while distance and the watcher were oblivious to us—I stood weeping while she smiled.

I remained weeping while she smiled.

I had never seen a laughing full moon before I looked upon her face,

فَلَم أَرَ بَدراً ضاحِكاً قَبلَ وَجهِها

وَلَم تَرَ قَبلي مَيِّتاً يَتَكَلَّمُ

Never before have I seen a laughing full moon like her face,

Nor had she seen, before my plight, a dead man who could speak.

Nor has she before seen a dead man speak.

A tyrant—cruel as her heavy hips to a lover frail as her waist,

ظَلومٌ كَمَتنَيها لِصَبٍّ كَخَصرِها

ضَعيفِ القُوى مِن فِعلِها يَتَظَلَّمُ

Oppressive like her waist to a youth like her hips,

Whose strength is sapped, complaining of the anguish she inflicts.

Powerless before her actions, he complains.

With tresses that restore the night though morning shines so bright,

بِفَرعٍ يُعيدُ اللَيلَ وَالصُبحُ نَيِّرٌ

وَوَجهٍ يُعيدُ الصُبحَ وَاللَيلُ مُظلِمُ

A branch that makes the night and dawn radiant,

And a face that brings back the dawn although the night is dark and deep.

And a face that makes the dawn and night dark.

If my heart were her dwelling place, it would remain a wasteland,

فَلَو كانَ قَلبي دارَها كانَ خالِياً

وَلَكِنَّ جَيشَ الشَوقِ فيهِ عَرَمرَمُ

Had my heart been her house, it would be empty,

But within it, the army of longing is vast and overwhelming.

But the army of passion resides therein, restless.

Hearth-stones that bear the scorching heat my burning heart endures,

أَثافٍ بِها ما بِالفُؤادِ مِنَ الصَلى

وَرَسمٌ كَجِسمي ناحِلٌ مُتَهَدِّمُ

More lasting with her than devotion in my heart,

And ruins, wasted and collapsing, just like my shattered frame.

A symbol, like my worn out, crumbling body.

There I drenched my sleeves, the rain-clouds aiding in my grief,

بَلَلتُ بِها رُدنَيَّ وَالغَيمُ مُسعِدي

وَعَبرَتُهُ صِرفٌ وَفي عَبرَتي دَمُ

I moistened, with her, my cheeks, and the clouds poured down,

Yet the cloud's tears were pure, while in my tears there was blood.

While her tears were transient, and in my tears was blood.

And had that flow upon my cheek not been my very lifeblood,

وَلَو لَم يَكُن ما اِنهَلَّ في الخَدِّ مِن دَمي

لَما كانَ مُحمَرّاً يَسيلُ فَأَسقَمُ

Had it not been for the blood that poured from my cheek,

It would not flow so red, leaving me sickly and drained.

It would not have been red, oozing putridity.

My soul be ransom for the phantom that visited after sleep,

بِنَفسي الخَيالُ الزائِري بَعدَ هَجعَةٍ

وَقَولَتُهُ لي بَعدَنا الغُمضَ تَطعَمُ

The visiting specter of my imagination after a nap says to me,

Asking me: "Can you truly taste of slumber after we have gone?"

After we wake, “Have a bite!”

Peace be upon him! Were it not for fear and reticence within him,

سَلامٌ فَلَولا الخَوفُ وَالبُخلُ عِندَهُ

لَقُلتُ أَبو حَفصٍ عَلَينا المُسَلِّمُ

Greetings! Were it not for the fear and stinginess in him,

I would have said it was Abu Hafs bestowing greetings upon us.

I would say, “Abu Hafs, peace be upon us!”

A lover of generosity, yearning to bestow his wealth,

مُحِبُّ النَدى الصابي إِلى بَذلِ مالِهِ

صُبوّاً كَما يَصبو المُحِبُّ المُتَيَّمُ

The lover of dew is generous with his money when loving,

With a passion like the ardor of a deeply smitten lover.

Pouring it out as a lover pours it out in lament.

I swear, were it not that in every single hair of his

وَأُقسِمُ لَولا أَنَّ في كُلِّ شَعرَةٍ

لَهُ ضَيغَماً قُلنا لَهُ أَنتَ ضَيغَمُ

I swear that if each of his hairs,

There lies a lion, we would have simply called him "Lion."

Did not have a guest, we would call him “host.”

Shall we diminish his due whilst he exceeds all bounds?

أَنَنقُصُهُ مِن حَظِّهِ وَهوَ زائِدٌ

وَنَبخَسُهُ وَالبَخسُ شَيءٌ مُحَرَّمُ

Should we diminish what is his right while he exceeds?

And undervalue him, when to undervalue is a sin?

It would be forbidden injustice and tyranny.

He transcends all comparison: his palm is not a mere ocean,

يَجِلُّ عَنِ التَشبيهِ لا الكَفُّ لُجَّةٌ

وَلا هُوَ ضِرغامٌ وَلا الرَأيُ مِخذَمُ

He is above all comparison - not reticent nor profound -

Nor is he a lion, nor his judgment merely a sharp sword.

His opinion is not muddled, nor is his mind disordered.

The wound he inflicts cannot be healed; his depths cannot be sounded;

وَلا جُرحُهُ يُؤسى وَلا غَورُهُ يُرى

وَلا حَدُّهُ يَنبو وَلا يَتَثَلَّمُ

His wound does not grieve, his depth is not seen,

His edge does not grow blunt, nor does it ever chip or break.

His limit does not appear, he does not grimace.

No decree he unravels can ever be restored,

وَلا يُبرَمُ الأَمرُ الَّذي هُوَ حالِلٌ

وَلا يُحلَلُ الأَمرُ الَّذي هُوَ مُبرِمُ

What is permitted does not become prohibited,

And no command he ratifies can ever be undone.

Just as what is prohibited does not become permitted.

He does not strut with haughty robes out of arrogance,

وَلا يَرمَحُ الأَذيالُ مِن جَبَرِيَّةٍ

وَلا يَخدُمُ الدُنيا وَإِيّاهُ تَخدُمُ

The noble do not chase glory,

Nor does he serve the world, yet the world serves him.

Nor do they serve the world while it serves them.

He has no wish to survive if his gifts should perish;

وَلا يَشتَهي يَبقى وَتَفنى هِباتُهُ

وَلا تَسلَمُ الأَعداءُ مِنهُ وَيَسلَمُ

He does not desire to remain while his gifts perish,

Nor are his enemies safe from him while he remains secure.

Nor do his enemies escape him while he escapes.

His name upon the tongue is sweeter than wine mixed with water,

أَلَذُّ مِنَ الصَهباءِ بِالماءِ ذِكرُهُ

وَأَحسَنُ مِن يُسرٍ تَلَقّاهُ مُعدِمُ

Mentioning him is sweeter than cold water on a hot day,

And fairer than sudden wealth found by a destitute man.

And better than ease after hardship.

His nature is rarer than the Phoenix among the birds,

وَأَغرَبُ مِن عَنقاءَ في الطَيرِ شَكلُهُ

وَأَعوَزُ مِن مُستَرفِدٍ مِنهُ يُجرَمُ

His form among birds is stranger than an ostrich,

And it is rarer still to find a supplicant he has denied.

And lowlier than one asking from him is the criminal.

He is most prolific in piling favor upon favor,

وَأَكثَرُ مِن بَعدِ الأَيادي أَيادِياً

مِنَ القَطرِ بَعدَ القَطرِ وَالوَبلُ مُثجِمُ

More generous than hands beyond hands,

More than drop follows drop when the torrential rain pours down.

Drop after drop during abundant rain.

Sublime in giving; were he to perceive his own sleep

سَنِيُّ العَطايا لَو رَأى نَومَ عَينِهِ

مِنَ اللُؤمِ آلى أَنَّهُ لا يُهَوِّمُ

Had the stingy seen his sleep they would fear

As an act of stinginess, he would vow never to slumber.

That he would not become upset by them.

Should he say, "Bring me a single coin I shall not give away,"

وَلَو قالَ هاتوا دِرهَماً لَم أَجُد بِهِ

عَلى سائِلٍ أَعيا عَلى الناسِ دِرهَمُ

Even if he said “give a coin” I would not find against the beggars,

A single coin would become impossible for the people to find.

Seeking from people, a single coin.

If a man could be harmed by that which brings him joy,

وَلَو ضَرَّ مَرءً قَبلَهُ ما يَسُرُّهُ

لاَثَّرَ فيهِ بَأسُهُ وَالتَكَرُّمُ

If someone hurt another before him, what pleased him

Then his own might and generosity would have been his undoing.

Would not spread its harm for his magnanimity.

In every raid, he waters the earth with blood red as berries,

يُرَوّي بِكَالفِرصادِ في كُلِّ غارَةٍ

يَتامى مِنَ الأَغمادِ تُنضى فَتوتِمُ

In every raid he irrigates with waves like horsemen in a charge,

With swords, orphaned from scabbards, that make orphans of men.

Orphans gush from the sheaths as they are rubbed.

To this very day, the ransom-steeds have not unsaddled,

إِلى اليَومِ ما حَطَّ الفِداءُ سُروجَهُ

مُذُ الغَزوُ سارٍ مُسرَجُ الخَيلِ مُلجَمُ

Until today, the supreme sacrifice did not lower his saddle

Since the raid began, the horses remain saddled and bridled.

Since the invasion, the stallion’s bridle armed.

He cleaves the lands of Rome amidst piebald clouds of dust,

يَشُقُّ بِلادَ الرومِ وَالنَقعُ أَبلَقٌ

بِأَسيافِهِ وَالجَوُّ بِالنَقعِ أَدهَمُ

He splits the land of Rome while the clouds are filled,

Wielding his swords while the dust turns the atmosphere dark.

With his swords, and the weather with clouds is laden.

Marching toward the tyrant king; how many battalions,

إِلى المَلِكِ الطاغي فَكَم مِن كَتيبَةٍ

تُسايِرُ مِنهُ حَتفَها وَهيَ تَعلَمُ

Against the tyrant king - how many battalions

March beside him toward their doom, full well knowing their fate?

March to their doom while they know!

And how many a young Christian maiden appeared before him,

وَمِن عاتِقٍ نَصرانَةٍ بَرَزَت لَهُ

أَسيلَةِ خَدٍّ عَن قَريبٍ سَتُلطَمُ

From the soft cheeks of Christian women offered to him

Smooth of cheek, yet destined soon to strike that cheek in grief.

Smooth cheeks from nearby will be crushed.

Ranks drawn for a Lion leading lions, whose only fortresses

صُفوفاً لِلَيثٍ في لُيوثٍ حُصونُها

مُتونُ المَذاكي وَالوَشيجُ المُقَوَّمُ

Regiments for a lion whose strongholds are lions,

Are the backs of swift steeds and the straightened spears.

The insides of shields and pierced coats of mail.

Death stays its hand from them as long as he is away,

تَغيبُ المَنايا عَنهُمُ وَهوَ غائِبٌ

وَتَقدَمُ في ساحاتِهِم حينَ يَقدَمُ

Death is absent from them while he is absent,

But steps into their courtyards the moment he advances.

And it goes ahead of them when he goes ahead.

By your life, will you never cease setting captives free,

أَجِدَّكَ ما تَنفَكُّ عانٍ تَفُكُّهُ

عُمَ اِبنَ سُلَيمانَ وَمالٌ تُقَسِّمُ

How you continuously spend, freeing the fetters!

O Umar ibn Sulayman, and distributing your wealth?

O son of Suleiman, dispensing wealth!

May He reward you—He whose Messenger's faith you have served—

مُكافيكَ مَن أَولَيتَ دينَ رَسولِهِ

يَداً لا تُؤَدّي شُكرَها اليَدُ وَالفَمُ

The one who appointed you heir of his Messenger’s debt -

With a favor for which neither hand nor tongue can offer sufficient thanks.

A hand that cannot repay its gratitude, even with hand and mouth -

Go slowly! If you will not have mercy on yourself

عَلى مَهَلٍ إِن كُنتَ لَستَ بِراحِمٍ

لِنَفسِكَ مِن جودٍ فَإِنَّكَ تُرحَمُ

Will reward you. Gently! If you are not merciful

In your boundless giving, know that you are shown mercy from above.

To yourself through munificence, you will be shown mercy.

Your abode is the seeker's goal, and your detractor is silenced;

مَحَلُّكَ مَقصودٌ وَشانيكَ مُفحَمُ

وَمِثلُكَ مَفقودٌ وَنَيلُكَ خِضرِمُ

Your place is intended, and your distinction eminent,

Your equal is nowhere found, and your bounty is a boundless sea.

None can be found like you, your attainment mature.

My discernment led me to visit you, passing over other kings;

وَزارَكَ بي دونَ المُلوكِ تَحَرُّجي

إِذا عَنَّ بَحرٌ لَم يَجُز لي التَيَمُّمُ

You visited me, below kings in my confusion,

For when the ocean appears, one may no longer cleanse with sand.

When an ocean could not be crossed, even hopping on one foot.

So live long! If a slave could ransom a master with his soul

فَعِش لَو فَدى المَملوكُ رَبّاً بِنَفسِهِ

مِنَ المَوتِ لَم تُفقَد وَفي الأَرضِ مُسلِمُ

If freeing you from death cost the slave his soul,

From death, you would never vanish while a single Muslim walks the earth.

You would not be lost while there are Muslims on earth!