تُسائلنى دِرعى أهذى هي النَّبْلُ
لعلَّ الذي شبّهتَه الأعينُ النُّجلُ
My armor asks me, “Are these the arrows?”
Perhaps they are what the wide eyes have made their likeness.
رَميْنَ سهاما في الجسوم جراحُها
وما أنتَ من سهو به يخرُج العقلُ
They loosed arrows into bodies, leaving their wounds there;
nor are you speaking from a lapse that drives reason out.
متى ما تَجِدْ لي الشمسَ في غسَق الدُّجَى
أجِدْ لك قلبا ماله في الهوى شغلُ
If ever you find the sun for me in the darkness of night,
I shall find you a heart untouched by love’s concerns.
ولولا اتّفاقُ الناس في الحبِّ أنه
قديمٌ لقلتُ لوعتى مالَها قَبْلُ
Were it not that all people agree that love is
ancient, I would say my passion has no precedent.
أيا حادىَ الأظعان أَعجلْ فإنها ال
منايا وبعضُ البِرِّ أن يؤجَرَ القتلُ
O driver of the camel-litters, hasten—for they are the—
—deaths; and one kindness is for killing to earn its reward.
ويا قلبُ أقرِرْ بالذي كنتَ جاحدا
فقد ضجِر اللاحى وقد فنِىَ العذلُ
And, O heart, admit what you once denied,
for the reprover has wearied, and reproach is spent.
يزيد الحسانَ البيضَ في اللؤم رغبةً
تصوُّرُنا أنْ منهُمُ يحسُن البُخلُ
The fair-skinned beauties’ appetite for meanness is increased
by our imagining that their withholding becomes them.
Sol 5.6