أعد ذكر مصران قلبي مولع — Shabrawy

Speak again of Egypt; my heart is enamored

of Egypt—and who can grant my eye the sight of Egypt?

And repeat in my hearing tales of its Nile,

for it has turned the waves into a flowing river.

A land where generosity has spread its wing,

and glory has displayed its greatest sign.

Go slowly when you tell me of its haunts,

for prolonging tales of love is another delight.

When a blackbird calls on a bān tree's branch,

I recall there the glance and the straight, dusky spear.

May time turn my mount toward it,

and may I find, after brokenness, restoration from its Nile.

Indeed, those familiar haunts were mine, whenever

they passed away, leaving weary souls behind.

I yearn for those familiar haunts whenever

the breeze passing through them renews a memory for me.

Ah, by the swaying figures on its lower slopes,

and by maidens' glances filled with enchantment,

and every slender figure on its heights,

too lofty and precious to be sold or bought,

if that joy returns to me upon its soil,

and my tearful eye finds comfort in the one I love,

I shall surely embrace pleasure in its open grounds,

and prostrate in gratitude in the prayer niche of its delights.

May God guard its pastures and bless its gardens,

and pour rainclouds and rain over its expanses.

Dwellings where the east wind is the delight of youth,

in its lush garden—and remembrance may bring benefit.

The east wind reminds me of the delight of youth

in its lush garden—and remembrance may bring benefit.

In longing, I pour my tears upon its Nile,

and yearn for the pools of its radiant garden.

The far-reaching Nile clothed it in a safflower-dyed robe,

and afterward dressed it in a radiant robe.

And it shook hands with the gardens' branches, so they began

to extend a hand to it and offer it flowers.

And it placed within the eyelids of its pleasure grounds

a breeze: when someone ailing encounters it, he recovers.

If a town warns me against yearning

for Egypt's Nile, its warning is an enticement.

And if they tell me of the Euphrates and the Tigris,

I find the Nile sweeter even when it turns bitter.

I shall turn away from mention of lands and their people,

and quench my burning soul with the Nile's water.

How often I glance toward the canal's course,

and that glance sends my tears flowing along that course.

Channels like snakes, some of them coiling,

yet neither belly nor back can be seen.

How often I have told the heart enamored of its memory,

'Be patient'; the heart replied, 'I have been unable to be patient.'

Ah, by chaste ʿUdhri love and the company

for whom lovers have made an excuse within their art,

if I am passionately enamored of Egypt, I have

no desire there but to meet the descendants of al-Zahra:

the noblest sons of the world and the most honorable of its people,

the most generous of hand and the highest in rank.

They are the people: if you face the light of their countenances,

you see faces that put the sun and the full moon to shame.

And if your ears hear of their fine deeds,

and you come to their domain, experience confirms the report.

Their faces are adorned by the light of prophethood,

with a grace that flows through them—glory to Him who made it journey by night!

They are the greatest blessing for their forefather's community;

what triumph for one who has them as a treasure for the morrow!

If a Qurayshi clan boasts of them,

their forefather, the Chosen One, is glory enough for them.

Kings in truth; others have nothing

but the name—look at them, and you will find them worthier of it.