أقامت بالتَّثنِّي في الغَلائِل

على كلَفي بِقامتِها دَلائِل

She stood there, swaying in her delicate robes;

her figure bore witness to my infatuation.

وسلَّت مِن لواحِظها حُساماً

عليهِ من ذَوائِبِها حَمائِل

From her sidelong glances she drew a sword,

with her tresses as the straps that bore it.

ممنَّعةٌ منَ الخَفراتِ تحمي

حِماها بالكتائبِ والقَبائِل

Fortified among modest maidens, she guards

her sanctuary with battalions and tribes.

تقولُ إِذا طلبتُ الوصلَ منها

وما في قَتلِها العُشَّاقَ طائِل

She says whenever I seek union with her—

though there is no gain in slaying lovers—

عدمتَ العقلَ يا مغرورُ حتَّى

ترومَ العقلَ مِن مُقَلِ العَقائِل

“May you be bereft of reason, deluded man, since

you seek reason in the eyes of noble ladies!”

يَميناً ما الحمائمُ حين تشدُو

بشَجوٍ فوق أغصانِ مَوائِل

By my oath, neither the doves, when they sing

mournfully upon swaying boughs,

فيجلُبُ نَوحُها للرُّوحِ شَجواً

ويسلُبُ كلَّ همِّ كانَ هائِل

their lament bringing sorrow to the soul

and stealing away every dreadful care;

ولا قُضبُ الأراكِ إذا كستها ال

سَواري وهيَ عاريةُ الخمائِل

nor the arak boughs, when clothed by the—

night-rain clouds, though bare of leafy mantles—

بِأَعشقَ مِن طَرائِقها غناءً

وأرشَقَ مِن معاطِفها شَمائِل

are more passion-stirring in song than her cadences,

or more lithe in grace than the curves of her form.

فديتُكَ غُصنَ قامتِها لوَ انِّي

بظلِّك مِن هجيرِ الهجرِ قائِل

May I ransom you, bough of her figure, if only I

might rest at noon in your shade from separation’s scorching heat.

وعصرُ وصالِنا والرَّبعُ زاهٍ

بصُحبتِنا لوَ انَّكَ غيرُ زائِل

O age of our union, and O dwelling made radiant

by our companionship—if only you had not passed away!

أما وخلاصِها مِن أسرِ وجدٍ

قديماً مدَّ لي ولها حبائِل

By her release from the captivity of a passion

whose snares were stretched long ago for her and me:

لقد كثُرت بحُسنِ العيشِ فيها

لنا تلكَ الُّييلاتُ القلائِل

through the sweetness of the life within them, they became many—

for us, those few, those little nights!

إلى أَن آضَ صَرفُ الدَّهرِ ظُلماً

علينا بانقطاعِ الوصلِ صائِل

Until Time’s turn, in its injustice, became

a barrier against us, cutting off union;

وأصبحَ بَينَ خُلَّةِ أهلِ وُدّي

وبيني بالسَّطا والحولِ حائِل

and now between a beloved among those I cherish

and me stands a barrier of displeasure and change.

أعادَ بسلِّهِ سيفَ التَّعدِّي

عليَّ دموعَ أجفانٍ سَوائِل

Drawn from its sheath, the sword of aggression brought back

upon me the tears of ever-streaming eyelids.

ألا يا دهرُ مالَكَ تبتليني

بأَحداثٍ أواخِرُها أوائِل

O Time, what ails you, that you afflict me

with calamities whose endings are beginnings?

أَلم تعلم بأنيِّ في أمانٍ

منَ الَمِلك الرَّحيمِ أبي الفَضائِل

Do you not know that I am under the protection

of the merciful King, the Father of Virtues?