غِناءُ حَمَامٍ في معاطِفِ بانِ
إِلى مَذْهَبِ الحُبِّ القديمِ ثَنَانِي
The cooing of doves in the folds of the branches
Has inclined me to the old way of love once more;
تَغنَّى فأَعطافُ الغصونِ رَوَاقِصٌ
وأَحداقُ أَزهارِ الرِّياضِ رواني
It sang, and the boughs swayed graceful movements,
While the meadows' blossoms glanced at me and smiled.
فَذَكَّرَنِي شَرْخَ الشَّبابِ فمَدْمعِي
سَفوحٌ وقَلْبِي دائِمُ الخَفَقَانِ
It reminded me of my youth's dawn, so I wept,
My breast ever throbbing, my tears raining down.
ولمَّا دعَا داعِي النَّوى حَمِّلُوا غَدًا
رفعتُ بصَوْتِي لاتَ حينَ أَوانِ
When the guide called "Load up, we leave on the morrow!"
I raised up my voice when the time came round,
وقلتُ لحادِيهِمْ ودَمْعِي كَاَنَّهُ
على صَفْحَتَيْ خَدِّي نَثيرُ جُمَانِ
And said to their driver, my tears like the drops
That streamed down my cheek's surface ceaselessly,
أَمِلْ أَيُّها الحادِي عِنانَ مَطِيِّهمْ
فقد مَيَّلوا نحوَ الغرامِ عِناني
"Rein in the camels, driver, they're leaning away
To the love that has captured and bound them in reins!"
وقُلْ قد سقاهُ البَيْنُ كَأْساً مَريرةً
فَقَدْ والذي يُدْنِي المَزَارَ سَقَانِي
"Say the parting has mixed him a cup full of woe,
By the Guide of the Shrine, it has poisoned me!
وسَلْ ظَبْيةَ الخِدْرِ المُمَنَّعِ عَلَّها
تَطَلَّعُ من أَحْدَاجِها فَتَرانِي
Ask the roe in the meadow, if she might but glance
From the fringe of her lids, then she'll see me again!"
فوا حزَنا حتَّى متى أَنا ذاكِرٌ
لِفَرْطِ غَرَامِي مَنْ نَأَى وَجَفَاني
Alas for my sorrow! How long must I dwell
On the love that has shunned me and left me in pain?
أَلا ليت شِعري هل شجا من أُحِبُّهُ
من البينِ ما قد شَفَّنِي وشجاني
Would that I knew if the one that I love
Has been pierced by this parting, as I have been pierced!
وهل ذاكِرِي من لا تزالُ لذكرِهِ
عَلوقٌ بقلبي دائماً ولِساني
Does he think of me still? In my heart he abides,
My tongue cannot help but speak of his name!
ومن عجَب أَنْ عِشْتُ بَعْدَ فِراقِهِ
وما كنتُ جَلْدَ القَلْبِ لِلْحَدَثانِ
A marvel I'm living, now he is no more,
For I never was steel, to withstand all these blows!
يُمَثِّلُهُ فَرْطُ الغرامِ لناظِرِي
وإِنْ نَزَحَتْ دارٌ بكُلِّ مكانِ
My passion portrays him to those who look on,
Though our dwellings are far-spread in every clime.
قِفِي يا أُمَيْمَ اليومَ أَشْكُو لكِ الذي
بُلِيتُ به من دونِ أَهْلِ زماني
Pause here today, O soft breeze, and receive
The tale of my woes from those not of my time!
تَحَمَّلَتِ الأَيامُ فَيَّ فآهُ مِنْ
تَسَهُّدِ طَرْفي واخْتِفَاقِ جَنَاني
The days have rolled by, and I sigh o'er my fate,
My glances are languid, my soul is in chains.
فما وَجْدُُ ذِي أَسْرٍ بأَرْضٍ قَصِيَّةٍ
يُبَدَّلُها من أَرْبُعِ ومَغَانِ
No captive so far in a desolate land
Would fail to exchange it for plains and lush rain,
تُصَعِّدُ أَنْفاساً حِراراً وتنثَنِي
فتُرْسِلُ دَمْعاً دائِمَ الهَمَلانِ
Or kindle hot sighs and bend low in lament,
And weep copious tears in unceasing refrains,
ولا حائماتٍ طالَ بالماءِ عَهْدُها
إِلى خَصِرٍ عَذْبِ البَرُودِ رَوَاني
No she-camels wand'ring in quest of cool water
Have rested so long by a fresh, verdant stream,
أَقامَتْ عليه ليلةً بَعْدَ ليلةٍ
مُحَلاَّةً والطَّيْرُ منه دَوَاني
Spending there night after night in delight,
While the birds gathered round them in joy it would seem!
بأَعْظَمَ مني فَرْطَ وَجْدٍ وعِلَّةٍ
لَمَا شَفَّنِي من طارِقِ الحَدَثانِ
With a passion so strong and a sickness so sore
It cured me of thinking of passions profane,
لَبَدَّلَ خَوْفِي الحافِظُ بْنُ مُحَمَّدٍ
بِرَغْمِ الأَعادِي مُسْرِعاً بِأَمانِ
Al-Hafiz ibn Muhammad dispelled all my fears
And rushed to my aid, though my foes were so fain,
تغطيْتُ عن دَهْرِي بِظِلِّ جَنَاحِهِ
فَعَيْنِي تَرَى دَهْرِي ولَيْسَ يرَاني
I'm sheltered and safe in the shade of his wing,
I view my existence, but am not seen plain.
إِمامٌ براهُ اللُّه من طِينَةِ العُلاَ
فَنَافَسَنِي في مَدْحِهِ الثَّقَلانِ
A leader made perfect by God from the clay
Of Highness - with him all Creation contends!
له قَلَمٌ أَمْضَى من السَّيْفِ مَضْرِبًا
به لَمْ يَعِشْ في العِزِّ غَيْرَ مُهانِ
His pen is more piercing than any sword's stroke,
None lived with such glory, apart from disdains!
هوَ الرُّمْحُ إِلا أَنَّه مُتَقَسَّمٌ
ليومِ نَدًى يُرْجى ويَوْمِ طِعانِ
A lance, but divided for days of lush pastures
And days of keen spears thrust with anger and pains!
فسَلْ عَنْهُ أَنَّى شِئْتَ شرْقًا ومَغْرِبًا
فلا رَجُلانِ الآنَ يَخْتلِفانِ
Ask of him wherever you please, east or west,
No two men, I swear, will e'er sound the same strains!
