أُباكرُ روضي يا ثريا فلا أرى

هزاري صداحاً على فنن البانِ

I tend to my garden early, O Thuria, but I see not

My friend greeting me with songs over the heights of the acacias,

وادعوه ملتاعاً وليس يجيبني

وكنت متى ادعوه بالهمس لباني

And I call him “my joy,” but he answers me not,

Though once when I called him in a whisper he answered.

ولما سألتُ البانَ عنه تلاطمت

اماليدُهُ تحكي جوانح ثكلان

And when I asked the acacias about him they were convulsed,

Their bending branches telling of one bereaved.

وهبت اعاصيرٌ على الروض كسرت

من الدوح اغصاناً هوت فوق اغصان

Tempests came over the garden and broke

Boughs from the date-palms; they fell onto branches.

نواعٍ اتت تنعى هزاري ولم تقل

قضى نحبه بل قلن مال إلى ثان

Creatures came to mourn my friend but did not say

He had died; they said, “He has gone to another.”

لقد لاذ بي فرخاً صغيراً مروعاً

فربيته في ظل حبي وإحساني

A little fledgling sought refuge in me, frightened;

I reared him in my love and care.

إذا داع اقريه فؤادي وان اتى

على ظماءٍ اسقيه من بين اجفاني

When my heart called to this neighbor of mine, he came;

When thirsty I gave him drink from between my lids.

توليته لا ريشَ فيه وعندما

نما جانحاهُ فر مني وخلاني

I tended him before he had feathers, but when

His wings grew he flew from me and deserted me.