أيُّ سَهمٍ من مقلةِ نجلاءِ

أَثبتتهُ الأَلحاظُ في الأحشاءِ

What an arrow there is in the eyes of a wide-eyed beauty!

Those glances have lodged it deep within my vitals.

وخدودٍ لَو لم تُنقَّط بِخالٍ

قلتُ كالجُلنَّارةِ الحمراءِ

And cheeks—had they not been dotted with a beauty mark,

I would have called them red pomegranate blossoms.

وقوامٍ إذا تثنَّى دلالاً

قلتُ كالسَّمهَّريةِ السَّمراءِ

And a figure that, when it bends coquettishly,

I would call a dark Samharian spear.

وانعطافٍ بغيرِ عَطفٍ وميلٍ

فيه ملٌ على ذوي البُرحاءِ

And a bending without tenderness—an inclination

that weighs heavily on those racked by torment.

ويحَ أهلِ الهوَى إلى كم يُقاسُو

نَ من الوجدِ والضَّنى والعَناءِ

Woe to the people of love! How long must they suffer

from ardent longing, wasting sickness, and travail?

ليسَ يخلُونَ مِن رقيبٍ وَواشٍ

وعَذولٍ يَزيدُ في الغُلَواءِ

Never are they free of a watcher or a talebearer,

or a reproacher who redoubles his reproach in seclusion;

وصُدودٍ منَ الحبيبِ وهجرٍ

واجتنابٍ وفُرقةٍ وجفاءِ

nor of the beloved’s rebuff and abandonment,

of avoidance, separation, and coldness.

وبروحي أفدي وقلَّت فِداءُ

نازحَ الدار خافي الأنباءِ

With my soul I would ransom him—though too scant a ransom—

that far-dwelling one whose tidings are hidden.

حَجبَت عنِّي النَّوى منهُ بَدراً

بِتُّ أرعى فيهِ نجومَ السَّماءِ

Distance has veiled him from me—a full moon;

for his sake, I spent the night watching heaven’s stars.