بَكَيْتُ وَهَلْ عَادَ يُجْدِي الْبُكَاءْ

نَسُونِي وَمَا نِلْتُ حَتَّى الْعَزَاءْ

I wept, but does weeping avail?

They forgot me, I gained not even solace.

فَكُنْتُ كَبَدْرٍ يُنِيرُ الدُّجَى

وَقَدْ نُسِيَ الْيَوْمَ بِالْكَهْرَبَاءْ

I was like the moon, lighting up the gloom,

Yet today eclipsed by electricity.

أَنَا جَنَّةٌ فِي الْوُجُودِ لِكَيْ

يَجُولَ الْوَرَى سَاعَةً فِي صَفَاءْ

I am a garden of being, so the world

Might wander an hour in serenity.

وَقَدْ رَسَمُونِي عَلَى لَوْحَةٍ

فَزِدْتُ جَمَالاً وَزِدْتُ الْبَهَاءْ

They painted me on a panel,

So I gained in beauty and splendor.

هَلِ الرَّسْمُ يُغْنِي عَنِ الأَصْلِ أَوْ

لِرَسْمٍ مَعَ الأَصْلِ أَيُّ اسْتِوَاءْ؟

Does the painting suffice without the original?

Or is there equality between copy and original?

أَنَا الأَصْلُ أَرْضِيَ بِي جَنَّةٌ

وَغَيْرِي الْفُرُوعُ لَهَا بِي النَّمَاءْ

I am the original, I make a garden content.

The branches are other than I, yet from me they acquire growth.

فَإِنْ مِتُّ مَاتَ الْفُرُوعُ وَإِنْ

مَرِضْتُ فَهَلْ لِلْفُرُوعِ الشِّفَاءْ

If I die, the branches die. If I sicken,

Can the branches find healing?

وَهَلْ عَاشَ فَرْعٌ بِدُونِي وَمَا

أُلاقِي مِنَ الْقَوْمِ إِلاَّ الْجَفَاءْ

Did a branch outlive me? I meet

With my people only aloofness.

أَنَا الْبَحْرُ مَائِيَ مَاءُ الذَّهَبْ

وَقَاعِي بِهِ الدُّرُّ لَيْسَ فَنَاءْ

I am the sea, my water is liquid gold,

My depth conceals pearls, no exhaustion.

فَمَنْ يَمْدُدِ الْيَدَ نَالَ الذَّهَبْ

وَمَنْ غَاصَ فَالدُّرُّ نِعْمَ الْجَزَاءْ

So he who reaches out takes the gold,

And he who dives finds pearls, a fine recompense.

أَنَا النَّهْرُ إِذْمَا رَآنِي الصَّدَى

سَيَنْهَلُ مِنِّيَ مَاءً رَوَاءْ

I am the river, when the echo espy me,

It will drink from me water soothing and fresh.

وَلَوْلا الشَّهَامَةُ مَا جُدْتُ بَلْ

تَمَنَّعْتُ إِلاَّ مِنَ الأَوْفِيَاءْ

But for my pride I would not have yielded,

I would have refused all save the faithful.

وَلَيْسَ الْكَرِيمُ يُجَازِي بِمَا

يُلاقِي مِنَ الْحُمْقِ وَالْجُهَلاءْ

The generous man does not repay

The folly and ignorance he meets with,

وَضَمَّدَ جُرْحِي رِجَالٌ لَهُمْ

حَنِينٌ وَشَوْقٌ لِيَوْمِ اللِّقَاءْ

And men whose longing and love

Are for the day of reunion have healed my wounds.

فَهُمْ فَقَدُونِي سِنَينَ وَمَا

كَفَقْدِي لَدِيهِمُ أَيُّ عَنَاءْ

For years they miss me. How does my

Absence burden them? It is no trouble.

إِذَا مَا رَأَى وَاحِدٌ وَرْقَةً

كَأَنَّ الْمَرِيضَ يَنَالُ الشِّفَاءْ

If one sees a single leaf

He is like the sick man who finds healing,

كَأَنَّ الْفَتَى جُوعُهُ كَالرَّدَى

رَأَى الضَّانَ يُشْوَى لَدَى الصَّحَرَاءْ

Like the starving man whose stomach burns,

Who sees meat roasting in the desert.

إِذَا خَيَّرُوهُمْ بِمَالِ الْوَرَى

نَصِيبًا مَعِي كُنْتُهُ لا مِرَاءْ

If offered the world's riches

As a share with me, I would be their choice,

وَلَوْ لَمْ يَكُنْ لأُنَالَ ثَمَنْ

سِوَى بَعْضِ عُمْرٍ رَضُوا بِالْوَفَاءْ

And if there was nothing to gain

But some of their lifetime, they were content with loyalty.

أَنَا مِثْلُهُمْ غُرْبَةً فِي الْوَرَى

وَيَوْمًا يَكُونُ لِقَا الْغُرَبَاءْ

I am like them, a stranger in the world,

And one day there will be the meeting of strangers.

فَنَنْسَى الْجِرَاحَ وَهَذَا الأَسَى

وَنَحْيَا مَعًا دَائِمًا قُرَنَاءْ

Then we'll forget the wounds and this sorrow,

And live together always as comrades.

وَلِلنُّورِ نَنْشُرُ نَمْحُو الدُّجَى

وَأَبْقَى وَيَبْقَى لِيَ الْفُضَلاءْ

To spread light we'll wipe out the gloom,

And I will remain, and so will the virtuous.