وَخَرساءَ إِلا في الرَّبيع فَإِنَّها

نَظيرَةُ قُسٍّ في العُصور الذَّواهِبِ

Silent, except in spring when it is

Like an old tree in the fleeing seasons,

أَتَت تَمدحُ النوارَ فَوقَ غُصونِها

كَما يَمدَحُ العُشاقُ حُسنَ الحَبائِبِ

It came to praise the flowers on its branches

As lovers praise the beauty of their belovèd,

تُبدِّلُ أَلحاناً إِذا قيلَ بدِّلي

كَما بَدَّلَت ضَرباً أَكفُّ الضوارِبِ

It changes tunes when asked to change,

As the nimblest fingers change their strokes,

تُغَنّي عَلَينا في عروضين شعرَها

وَلَكنَّ شعراً في قَوافٍ غَرائِبِ

It sings to us in the meters of its poetry,

But with rare, wondrous rhyming schemes,

إِذا اِبتدأت تنشدكَ رجزاً وَإِن تَقل

لَها بَدِّلي تُنشِدكَ في المتقارِبِ

When it begins chanting satire to you and you tell it

“Change!”—it chants to you in harmonies,

وَلَيسَ لَها تيه الطُّراءِ بِصَوتها

وَلَكن تُغَنِّي كُلَّ صاحٍ وَشارِبِ

Its voice lacks the warbling of turtle doves

But sings to all who cry out and drink.