بَكا آمِناً أَن صارَ سِتراً عَلى الحُبِّ

خَطا الناسُ في اِسترقاقهم دمعة الصَبِّ

He wept, believing it had become a veil over love,

While people erred in enslaving the tear of youth.

ضَلالاً كَذم المَوتِ عِشقاً فانَّهُم

عَلى الدَهر ماذاقوه مِن أَسهَمِ النَصبِ

As misguided as the illusion of death is passion,

For through time they have not tasted of its bitter arrows.

يَظنونَ دَمعي مِن قَذى العين دامياً

وَجَدِّكَ ما يُدميه إِلّا جَوى القَلبِ

They think my tears are from the speck in my eye, continually,

While in truth, nothing makes me shed them but the burning of my heart.

فَلا يَعدُ داراً بانَ بالعيش أَهلُها

سوى واكف الأَجفان مِن وابِل السُحبِ

So they do not consider it a home if its inhabitants live there,

Except for the eyelids' clouds pouring down rain.

وَما ذاكَ مِن بُخل بِها غير أَنَّني

أَرى أَنَّ مَجرى سَيله دائم الجَدبِ

It is not out of stinginess towards it, but rather

I see that the course of its floods is ever dry.

فَيا شُغلي عَن كُلِّ شيء بِفارغ

حَبيب عَلى بُخل مُعادٍ عَلى الحُبِّ

So occupy me from all things with one who is free,

A lover, though he be stingy of requited love.

إِذا بلَّغتُهُ سَلوَتي ظلَّ ساخِطاً

وان بَلَّغتُهُ صَبوَتي عَدَّها ذَنبي

If I convey my night to him, he remains angry,

And if I convey my morning to him, he counts it a sin against me.

مَتى آنفِ الظُلمَ الَّذي سامَ حَمله

وَلا القَلبُ مِن صَحبي وَلا الصَبرُ مِن حِزبي

When will I be rid of the injustice which I have borne,

While neither my heart nor my patience are with my companions?

وَيا ظَمأي بينَ التَحجُّبِ وَالنَوى

إِلى زَمَني بَينَ التَجَنّب وَالعتبِ

And oh my thirst between avoidance and intention

To my days between avoidance and reproach!

وَشَوقي إِلى وعد وان لَم يُجد بِهِ

وان كانَ لا يَشتاق شيءٌ مِن الكذبِ

And my longing for a tryst, even if there is no truth in it,

For nothing longs for falsehood.

دَعو الغاديَ الشَرقيض يَحمِلُ عَرفكم

لِيُطفىء ما يَلقونَ في الجانِبِ الغَربي

Let the absent one traveling east carry your fragrance

To extinguish what they kindle on the west side.

أَزيروا الكَرى وَالطَيفَ عَنّيَ ساعَةً

وَذَلِكَ شيءٌ لا يَضُرُّ مِن القُربِ

Draw the beloved and the phantom away from me for a while,

For that is something which does no harm from being near.

وَباكٍ بأَرض الشام امّا صَبابَةً

إِلى الاَهلِ أَو غَيظاً لِمعجز عَن الكُتب

And weeping in Damascus, either from a youthful whim

To family, or from rage at one incapable of books.

أَقامَ فَلا الأَقدارُ تقضي بِعَوده

اليهم وَلا تُدنيهِ مِن مَنزِل الخِصب

He stayed so neither destinies decree his return to them

Nor bring him near the home of fertility.

إِذا البينُ لَم يُوصِل إِلى ذي بَصيرة

وَهَيهاتَ تُجدي غُربة المندلِ الرطب

If distance does not convey the discerning one,

Then far from bringing near is a moist cloud.

وَما نافِعي عِندَ الوجوه كَأَنَّها

فَسا الصَخرِ صَخراً أَنَّني صارِمُ العضبِ

And of no use to me are faces that are as if

They were flint, though I have a severe frown.