لليلِ سرٌّ يناديني فأنهمرُ

على الوجودِ كأني العودُ والوترُ!

Night has a secret that calls me, and I pour forth

over existence, as though I were the reed flute and the string!

أحيا، فتلتفتُ الآفاقُ تشربني

ولفحة الريح والأشعارُ والسهرُ

I come alive; the horizons gather round and drink me in—

as do the gust of wind, poems, and sleeplessness.

أحبُّها هذه الدنيا، فأُجمِلُها

ببيتِ شعرٍ كَفَوحِ الورد ينتشرُ!

I love it, this world, and so I beautify it;

in my home, poetry spreads like the wafting fragrance of roses!

حُلمٌ بحُلمٍ أنا، بُعدٌ تعيشُ به

أبطالُ كُتْبٍ، وشطٌ صخرُهُ القمرُ

A dream within a dream am I, a distance inhabited by

the heroes of my books and a shore whose rock is the moon.

يقرأنني فيقلن: "السهلُ ضجَّ جنىً

ومشتهىً، وكحوضٍ أزهرَ الحجرُ!"

Women read me and say: “The plain clamors with fruit

and desire, and the stone has flowered like a pool!”

حكايةٌ، يا أنا، قد قصَّها غجرٌ

لطيّبينَ فقالوا: "ليتنا الغجرُ"

My story, O self, Gypsies once told

to two kindly souls, who said: “If only we were Gypsies!”

بها العتوُّ، بها وقعُ القوامِ على

زَندٍ، بها شَفَةٌ تسقي وتعتذرُ

In it is imperious pride; in it, the poise of a figure upon

a forearm; in it, a lip that gives drink and apologizes.

تقول: "خُذني وخُذ صُبحَينِ، قطفهُما

ما حرَّمَ اللمسُ لا ما حرَّمَ النظرُ"

She says: “Take me—and take two dawns; plucking them

is what touch has forbidden, not what sight has forbidden!”