تَنَشَّقَ مِن عَرفِ الصَبا ما تَنَشَّقا
وَعاوَدَهُ ذِكرُ الصِبا فَتَشَوَّقا
From the perfumes of youth did the zephyr exhale,
And memory of youth did his spirit regale,
وَما زالَ لَمعُ البَرقِ لَمّا تَأَلَّقا
يُهيبُ بِدَمعِ العَينِ حَتّى تَدَفَّقا
Ever flashed the lightning its glamour and light,
Provoking his tear till it streamed from his sight.
وَهَل يَملِكُ الدَمعُ المَشوقُ المُصَبَّأُ
خَليلَيَّ إِن أَجزَع فَقَد وَضَحَ العُذرُ
Can the sad captive control his poor tears?
O my friend, if I'm frantic - my madness is clear.
وَإِن أَستَطِع صَبراً فَمِن شيمَتي الصَبرُ
وَإِن يَكُ رُزأً ما أَصابَ بِهِ الدَهرُ
If I master my grief, I but show my soul's strength;
And if mourning assail me, I take it by length.
فَفي يَومِنا خَمرٌ وَفي غَدِهِ أَمرُ
وَلا عَجَبٌ إِنَّ الكَريمَ مُرَزَّأُ
Today is for wine, and tomorrow - who knows?
Let the noble man smile though life buffet his nose.
رَمَتني اللَيالي عَن قَسِيِّ النَوائِبِ
فَما أَخطَأَتني مُرسَلاتُ المَصائِبِ
The nights have deflected harsh blows from my head,
No hurt has the storm of mishap on me spread.
أَقضي نَهاري بِالأَماني الكَواذِبِ
وَآوي إِلى لَيلٍ بَطيءِ الكَواكِبِ
My days I beguile imagining vain things inane,
My nights I outwear, for slow plods every star's wane,
وَأَبطَأُ سارٍ كَوكَبٌ باتَ يُكلَأُ
أَقُرطُبَةُ الغَرّاءَ هَل فيكِ مَطمَعُ
Till one weary star at the pallid dawn goes its way.
Cordova beautiful - is there hope you'll be mine?
وَهَل كَبِدٌ حَرّى لِبَينَكِ تُنقَعُ
وَهَل لِلَياليكِ الحَميدَةِ مَرجِعُ
Can a heart scorched with love by your glances refine?
Can your mild-mooned nights make me their frequenter?
إِذِ الحُسنُ مَرأىً فيكِ وَاللَهوُ مَسمَعُ
وَإِذ كَنَفُ الدُنيا لَدَيكِ مُوَطَّأُ
When loveliness' vision and mirth's apprehension
Are yours, and existence itself your purveyor?
أَلَيسَ عَجيباً أَن تَشُطَّ النَوى بِكِ
فَأَحيا كَأَن لَم أَنسَ نَفحَ جَنابِكِ
Strange I'm revived when the gale blows from you here
As though I'd forgot the soft wind of your land,
وَلَم يَلتَئِم شَعبي خِلالَ شِعابِكِ
وَلَم يَكُ خَلقي بَدؤُهُ مِن تُرابِكِ
As though the cleft hadn't closed in your mountain-cleft;
As though I was not moulded first from your sand,
وَلَم يَكتَنِفني مِن نَواحيكِ مَنشَأُ
نَهارُكِ وَضّاحٌ وَلَيلُكِ ضَحيانُ
Nor shrouded all over by airs of your fand.
Your day is bright-faced and your night is soft-eyed,
وَتُربُكِ مَصبوحٌ وَغُصنُكِ نَشوانُ
وَأَرضُكِ تُكسى حينَ جَوُّكِ عُريانُ
Your soil is day-spring and your branch is green-tied.
Your earth is clad when your air is bare,
وَرَيّاكِ رَوحٌ لِلنُفوسِ وَرَيحانُ
وَحَسبُ الأَماني ظِلُّكِ المُتَفَيَّأُ
Your scent is spirit - your streams bring hearts repair.
Shall I forget days caparisoned with delight
أَأَنسى زَماناً بِالعِقابِ مُرَفَّلاً
وَعَيشاً بِأَكنافِ الرُصافَةِ دَغفَلا
When we wore the sprigged apricot day and night,
When towards all the senses' joys we marched ahead
وَمَغنىً إِزاءَ الجَعفَرِيَّةِ أَقبَلا
لَنِعمَ مَرادُ النَفسِ رَوضاً وَجَدوَلا
While security wrapped us as raiment, and hatred fled?
Where kindness was meet, and hostility marred.
وَنِعمَ مَحَلُّ الصَبوَةِ المُتَبَوَّأُ
وَيا رُبَّ مَلهىً بِالعَقيقِ وَمَجلِسِ
The generous Spring clad it in pearls and green,
To it the gentle-breathing winds grew keen;
لَدى تُرعَةٍ تَرنو بِأَحداقِ نَرجِسِ
بِطاحُ هَواءٍ مُطمِعِ الحالِ مُؤيِسِ
Its sons found sweet the fruits of life serene,
Still greet we old friends at dusk or dawn's sheen.
مَغيمٍ وَلَكِن مِن سَنا الراحِ مُشمِسِ
إِذا ما بَدَت في كَأسِها تَتَلَألَأُ
Salutations to those battle-plains, though abandoned!
My friends, more will come though the present host parts.
وَقَد ضَمَّنا مِن عَينِ شُهدَةَ مَشهَدُ
بَدَأنا وَعُدنا فيهِ وَالعودُ أَحمَدُ
Each predecessor only cedes to his successor.
I watch the days - feeble may trade with finer arts.
يَزُفُّ عَروسَ اللَهوِ أَحوَرُ أَغيَدُ
لَهُ مَبسِمٌ عَذبٌ وَخَدٌّ مُوَرَّدُ
Congratulations on an affair, when it thrives or smarts!
I became embittered so Freeman embittered grew,
وَكَفٌّ بِحِنّاءِ المُدامِ تُقَنَّأُ
وَكائِن عَدَونا مُصعِدينَ عَلى الجِسرِ
And I began to grieve so Sorrow I withdrew.
Despair sat firm in my wonted heart's reign
إِلى الجَوسَقِ النَصرِيِّ بَينَ الرُبى العُفرِ
وَرُحنا إِلى الوَعساءِ مِن شاطِئِ النَهرِ
Though in a land where I was held mean,
And who aims, like me, for base things will get meaner.
بِحَيثُ هُبوبُ الريحِ عاطِرَةِ النَشرِ
عَلا قُضُبَ النُوّارِ فَهيَ تَكَفَّأُ
Don't let my enemies gloat at my jail-gloom,
For I've seen the sun sheathe itself in night-fume;
وَأَحسِن بِأَيّامٍ خَلَونَ صَوالِحِ
بِمَصنَعَةِ الدولابِ أَو قَصرِ ناصِحِ
I was but a scimitar wrathful in its sheath,
A lion in the jungle, a hawk in its booth,
تَهُزُّ الصَبا أَثناءَ تِلكَ الأَباطِحِ
صَفيحَةَ سَلسالِ المَوارِدِ سائِحِ
The trout hid in the corrie's depths - its glint doctored!
My creed scorns all cants from each bigot Dissenter
تَرى الشَمسَ تَجلو نَصلَها حينَ يَصدَأُ
وَيا حَبَّذا الزَهراءَ بَهجَةَ مَنظَرِ
To each broad, mild breast more gentle and centre'd.
It gleams like a crescent, gold-inlaid and tender,
وَرِقَّةَ أَنفاسٍ وَصِحَّةَ جَوهَرِ
وَناهيكَ مِن مَبدا جَمالٍ وَمَحضِرِ
Eclipsing in sheen the moon when it's fulgent.
It knows its bright halo's the finer and pleasanter.
وَجَنَّةِ عَدنٍ تَطَّبيكَ وَكَوثَرِ
بِمَرأىً يَزيدُ العُمرَ طيباً وَيَنسَأُ
I sorrow - no rest; though rest my cause furnishes.
The strings I touch not though they thrill for my fingers.
مَعاهِدُ أَبكيها لِعَهدٍ تَصَرَّما
أَغَضَّ مِنَ الوَردِ الجَنِيِّ وَأَنعَما
I breathe out no moan though grief I go under.
Naught's mine since we parted but news of you - echos.
لَبِسنا الصِبا فيها حَبيراً مُنَمنَما
وَقُدنا إِلى اللَذاتِ جَيشاً عَرَمرَما
May kind words from your quarters keep arriving!
You've enjoyed days whose smooth moments please ya,
لَهُ الأَمنُ رِدءٌ وَالعَداوَةُ مَربَأُ
كَساها الرَبيعُ الطَلقُ وَشيَ الخَمائِلِ
The world's your oyster, peeled of sneezers.
Safe from its rebukes or its bore you're sealed,
وَراحَت لَها مَرضى الرِياحِ البَلائِلِ
وَغادى بَنوها العَيشَ حُلوَ الشَمائِلِ
Still one of you wraps the silk of its fields,
And sanctions the virgin of wishes, at ease, a
وَلا زالَ مِنّا بِالضُحى وَالأَصائِلِ
سَلامٌ عَلى تِلكَ المَيادينِ يُقرَأُ
New flower whose essence no coughs overlay.
I praised the days whose midnights and noons
إِخوانَنا لِلوارِدينَ مَصادِرُ
وَلا أَوَّلٌ إِلّا سَيَتلوهُ آخِرُ
Were free, excellent - never marred, never strown.
You wandered delighted through life's saloons
وَإِنّي لِأَعتابِ الزَمانِ لَناظِرُ
فَقَد يَستَقيلُ الجَدُّ وَالجَدُّ عاثِرُ
While security granted you permanent boons,
And fate was your garden, each hour a new bloom.
وَتُحمَدُ عُقبى الأَمرِ مازالَ يُشنَأُ
ظَعَنتُ فَكانَ الحُرُّ يُجفى فَيَظعَنُ
We visited, coming and going again,
A meadow whose name was Spring's Charm, Summer's Den -
وَأَصبَحتُ أَسلو بِالأَسى حينَ أَحزَنُ
وَقَرَّ عَلى اليَأسِ الفُؤادُ المُوَطَّنُ
The zephyr, the meadow's brisk bridegroom, blew in;
A sweet smile he had, and vermeil-red cheek and chin,
وَإِنَّ بِلاداً هُنتُ فيها لَأَهوَنُ
وَمَن رامَ مِثلي بِالدَنِيَّةِ أَدنَأُ
And fingers that, lifting the wine-cup, looked slender and lean.
We rose and walked over the bridge's breadth,
وَلا يُغبِطُ الأَعداءَ كَونِيَ في السِجنِ
فَإِنّي رَأَيتُ الشَمسَ تُحصَنُ بِالدَجنِ
To the Christian quarter midst convent and wreath,
And on to the shore, avoiding all danger and skirving,
وَماكُنتُ إِلّا الصارِمَ العَضبَ في جَفنِ
أَوِ اللَيثَ في غابٍ أَوِ الصَقرَ في وَكنِ
Where blows the wind laden with fragrance, its way swerving.
High above, the lamps of Naur sprayed scent unbegrudging.
أَوِ العِلقَ يُخفى في الصِوارِ وَيُخبَأُ
يَضيقُ بِأَنواعِ الصَبابَةِ مَذهَبي
Those excellent days amidst Mansi's halls,
Or Nasih's castle - what memories it recalls!
إِلى كُلِّ رَحبِ الصَدرِ مِنكُم مُهَذَّبِ
مُفَضَّضِ لَألاءِ الأَساريرِ مُذهَبِ
How Zaba breezed through those wide acres and spalls,
Rustling the necklace of tumbling waterfalls!
يُنافِسُ مِنهُ البَدرُ غُرَّةَ كَوكَبِ
دَرى أَنَّها أَبهى سَناءً وَأَضوَأُ
You could see the sun gleam as it slid from the walls.
Fair Zahra, superb of insight, vital of soul!
أَسِفتُ فَما أَرتاحُ وَالراحُ تُثمِلُ
وَلا أُسعِفُ الأَوتارَ وَهيَ تَرَسَّلُ
How subtle the breath, how unblemished the whole!
A paradise, Eden - whatever you call
وَلا أَرعَوي عَن زَفرَةٍ حينَ أُعذَلُ
وَلا لِيَ مُذ فارَقتُكُم مُتَعَلَّلُ
The vision that beautifies, lengthens the days of my scroll
Till time itself to your perfume is grateful and dulcet and droll.
سِوى خَبَرٍ مِنكُم عَلى النَأيِ يَطرَأُ
حَمِدتُم مِنَ الأَيّامِ لينَ خِلالِها
I mourn covenants, though they now seem so old,
Milder than blossoms, tranquil and controlled.
وَسَرَّتكُمُ الدُنيا بِحُسنِ دَلالِها
مُؤَمَّنَةً مِن عَتبِها وَمَلالِها
Donned we the sprigged apricot, purple and gold.
Marched we to joy though the trumpets of war rolled,
وَلا زالَ مِنكُم لابِسٌ مِن ظِلالِها
يُسَوِّغُ أَبكارَ المُنى وَيُهَنَّأُ
While security wrapped us and hatred was doled.
