الشِّعرُ شَلَّالٌ على هاجِسي

سقا فُؤادي، سَلْسَلًا ثَغْرُهُ

Poetry is a waterfall on my obsession

Quenching my heart, its mouth a chain

يَعِيبُ شِعريَ بَعْضُ نُقَّادِهِ

يُحْسَدُ مِن زَهْرِ الرُّبى عِطْرُهُ

Some of its critics find fault in my poetry

Its fragrance is envied by the flowers of meadows

يقولُ أصحابي أَسِيرُ الهَوى

أَلَذُّ ما في سِجْنِهِ أَسْرُهُ

My friends say I am a prisoner of love

The most delightful thing in its prison is its bond

كم ذاقَ كأسَ الهَجْرِ؟ لَكِنَّه؛

أَوجعَهُ مِنْ حِبِّهِ غَدْرُهُ

How many tasted the cup of estrangement? But;

What pained it most was its betrayal

أوزانُ أشعاري تراتيلهُ

يَصنعُ تفعيلاتِها بَحْرُهُ

The meters of my poems are its melodies

Its sea makes its rhythms

يَكتُبُها في لَوحِهِ تارةً

وتارةً يَزهو بها صَدْرُهُ

It writes them on its tablet sometimes

And sometimes it brags about them in its chest

للنّاسِ والعالَمِ شَطْرُ الجَوَى

ولي، أنا وحدي إذًا شَطْرُهُ

To people and the world belong half of passion

And the other half belongs only to lonely me

لا صَبْرَ، لَكِنْ أَدَّعِي أَنَّني

أكبَرُ صَبٍّ، ما وَهَى صَبْرُهُ

No patience, but I claim that I

Am the most patient, its patience never wavered

أُكاتِمُ النّاسَ شُجوني، وكم

سِرٍّ فُؤادي والدُّجَى قَبْرُه

I conceal my sorrows from people, and how much

Secrets of my heart with gloom their grave