طلبتُ من ريشتي أنْ ترسم القمر

فأبدعتْ وقضتْ من حاجتي وَطَرا

I asked my pen to draw the moon

It created beautifully and fulfilled my need

طمعتُ فيها، فقلت: النَّجمُ يُعجبني

فصوَّرتْ ريشتي من حُسْنِه صُوَرا

I became greedy with it, so I said: I like the star

So my pen pictured its beauty in images

فزاد مما أرى في ريشتي طمعي

والمرءُ يَطْمَعُ فيما حُسْنُه ظَهَرا

What I see in my pen increased my greed

And man is greedy for what is good in appearance

فقلت: هيَّا ارسمي روضاً ورابيةً

خضراءَ تُعْجبُ في تنسيقها النَّظَرا

So I said: Come on, draw me a garden and cottages

Green, pleasing in its arrangement to the sight

وأبدعي صورةً للنَّخل باسقةً

وصوِّري النَّبْعَ والأزهارَ والشَّجرا

And create an image of the towering palm trees

And picture the spring, the flowers and the trees

وصوِّري سُحُباً في الجوِّ سابحةً

وصوِّري البرقَ فيها وارسمي المَطَرا

And picture clouds floating in the sky

And draw the lightning in them and paint the rain

فأبدعتْ ريشتي في كلِّ ما رسَمَتْ

حتى رأيت لها في خاطري أَثَرا

So my pen created beautifully all that it drew

Until I saw its impact on my mind

طَمِعْتُ في ريشتي، قلت: ارسمي حُلُم

فصوَّرتْ صورةً، عقلي بها انبهَرا

I became greedy with my pen, I said: Draw dreams

So it pictured an image, my mind was dazzled

قلت: ارسمي وَمْضَةَ الإحساس فانطلقتْ

تصوِّر البَرْقَ لمَّا يَخْطَفُ البَصَرا

I said: Draw the flash of feeling, so it burst forth

To portray lightning when it seizes sight

قلتُ: ارسمي لَوْعَةَ المشتاق، لَهْفَتَهُ

حنينَهُ، دَمْعَهُ الرَّقْراقَ حين جَرَى

I said: Draw the agony of the longing one, his fervor

His nostalgia, his flowing tender teardrops

وصوِّري ليلَه ما زالَ يُرْهِقُه

طولاً، وَيُسْكِنُ في أهدابه السَّهَرا

And portray his night that continued to afflict him

With its length, and inhabited his eyelids with vigilance

وصوِّري فَرَحَ المشتاقِ حين يَرَى

وجهَ الحبيبِ وينسى الهمَّ والكَدَرا

And portray the longing one’s joy when he sees

The face of the beloved and forgets the worries and distress

ولم تَزَلْ ريشتي في كلِّ ما رسمَتْ

تُبدي لعينيْ من الإبداعِ ما استترا

And my pen continued in all that it drew

To show my eyes the creativity it concealed

وزادَ من طمعي فيها تَأَلُّقُه

فَرُحْتُ أطلبُ بالإسهابِ ما اختُصِرا

And its brilliance increased my greed in it

So I rejoiced, seeking elaborately what was concise

يا ريشتي، أنتِ في الإبداعِ رائدةٌ

كبَّرْتِ من لَمحَاتِ الفَنِّ ما صَغُرا

My pen, you are leading in creativity

You have made great what is small in the glimpses of art

هيَّا ارسمي وَجْهَ مَنْ أهوى وبسمتَه

وناظرَيْنِ، إذا ما صُوِّبا سَحَرا

Come on, draw the face of my beloved and her smile

And two eyes, if directed, they would spellbind

توقَّفَتْ ريشتي طال الوجومُ به

حتى تخيَّلْتُ رأسَ الرِّيشةِ انكسرا

My pen stopped, gloominess overcame it

Until I imagined the pen's head had broken

ماذا دهى ريشتي، ما بالُها وَجَمَتْ

ما بالُ إبداعها في رسمها انحسرا؟!

What silenced my pen, why did it frown?

Why did its creativity in drawing shrivel?

قالت: أتطلبُ مني رسمَ فاتنةٍ

لو أبصر الفجر عينيها لما انتشرا

It said: Do you ask me to draw a beauty

If the dawn saw her eyes, it would not have spread

ولو رأى الزَّهْرُ في الواحاتِ بَسْمَتَه

لَمَا حَبَانا الشَّذا يوماً ولا ازدهَرا

And if the flowers in the oases saw her smile

It would not have perfumed us one day or blossomed

ولو رآها نسيمُ الفجر حاضرةً

على ضِفافِ الرَّبيعِ الطَّلْقِ ما حَضَرا

And if the dawn breeze saw her present

On the banks of open spring, it would not have attended

هنا، رأيتُ يَدَ الإبداعِ راجفةً

كأنَّ ريشتَهُ قد أصبحتْ حَجَرا

As if its pen had become stone

So I said: Glory to Him who created beauty, we will never

فقلتُ: سبحانَ من صاغَ الجمالَ لن

حتى ظننَّا بأنَّا لا نرى بَشَرا

Even think we see a human