كَفاكَ أَنّي قَد بِتُّ لَم أَنَمِ
وَأَنَّ قَلبي مُستَودَعُ السَقَمِ
Enough that I have spent the night sleepless,
Let it suffice you that I spent the night awake,
And that my heart harbors only sickness.
And that my heart has become a vessel for pain.
أَولى بِحَملِ المَلامِ عاذِلُ مَن
يَسأَلُ رَسماً إِجابَةَ الكَلِمِ
More deserving of blame is he who asks
More deserving of blame is he who scolds the one
For a picture, replicating speech.
Who begs the silent ruins to answer with a word.
رَسمُ دِيارٍ يَفتَرُّ مُبتَسِماً
مِنها البِلى عَن نَواجِذِ الهَرِمِ
The image of dwellings brings a smile,
The traces of a home that faintly smile,
Though ruined by the ravages of time.
As decay reveals the bared teeth of old age.
أَبقى البِلى مِن جَديدِهِنَّ كَما
أَبقى مِنَ الجِسمِ مُقلَتَي حَكَمِ
More lasting than their bricks is what remains
Decay has left as little of their former youth
Of a body, two orbits of wisdom.
As it left of the body but the eyes of Hakam.
قَدِ اِكتَسى العودُ في الثَرى خِلَعاً
مِن يانِعِ الزَهرِ وَالنَدى الشَبِمِ
The lute now dons the earth's dustgarb
The branch within the earth has robed itself
Bereft of blossoms, fresh dew and youth.
In mantles of ripe blossoms and cold dew.
يَحيا بِروحِ الكُرومِ لي جَسَدٌ
أَخنَت عَلَيهِ نَوازِعُ الهِمَمِ
Yet in me still lives, with the soul of vines,
My body is revived by the spirit of the vine,
A body weathered by the winds of cares.
A body worn down by the striving of high aims.
مِنَ اللَواتي حَكى الحَبابُ بِها
وَجهَ حَبيبٍ إِلَيَّ مُبتَسِمِ
Of those whose cheeks were recalled by dancers,
From a vintage whose bubbles resemble
A lover's face still smiles at me.
The face of a beloved smiling back at me.
أَظَلَّ مِنها عَلى شَفا خَدَرٍ
يَأخُذُ مِن مَفرِقي إِلى القَدَمِ
It cast its shade on one numbed cheek
From it, I linger on the brink of numbness,
Taking me from my parting to my feet.
A sensation seizing me from crown to sole.
لَم يُنقِصِ الشَيبُ مِن دَعارَتِها
وَلا وَهى عَظمُها مِنَ القِدَمِ
Grey hairs could not diminish its grace,
Age has not diminished its wicked charm,
Nor, bent, its stature shorten over time.
Nor has its structure weakened from antiquity.
تَفعَلُ في الصَدرِ بِالهُمومِ كَما
يَفعَلُ ضَوءُ النَهارِ بِالظُلَمِ
In breasts it does as daylight does to darkness,
It acts upon the worries in the breast,
Should we restrain it, clouds rise for its sake.
Just as the light of day dispels the dark.
إِذا اِمتَرَتها أَكُفُّنا نَشَأَت
لَها سَحابٌ تَستَنُّ بِالرِهَمِ
The hand of Solomon brought bounty raining down,
When our palms press it forth, there rises
At times unleashing vengeance and wrath.
A cloud from it that pours a gentle rain.
كَفُّ سُلَيمانَ أَمطَرَت نِعَماً
وَتارَةً تَستَهِلُّ بِالنِقَمِ
O cream of drinking and scion of cream!
Like Suleiman's hand, which rains down blessings,
Gabriel who dispels the gloom of anguish!
Yet at times pours forth a torrent of retribution.
يا غُرَّةَ الشَربِ وَاِبنَ غُرَّتِهِم
جِبريلُ مُردي كَتائِبَ البُهَمِ
My tongue is still describing your perfection,
O finest of the noble assembly, and son of their finest,
O son of the hunt, though my powers fail me,
Gabriel, destroyer of the battalions of brave knights.
كَلَّ لِساني عَن وَصفِ مَدحِكَ يا اِب
نَ الصيدِ وَاِستُضعِفَت قِوى هِمَمي
And though I offer nothing but excuses,
My tongue grows weary describing your praise, O son
Were I to speak, before all other tongues.
Of the proud kings, and my ambition's strength fails me.
وَلَستُ إِلّا مُعذِراً وَلَوِ اِس
تَنطَقتُ فيهِ عَن أَلسُنِ الأُمَمِ
I offer but an excuse, even were I to speak
With the tongues of all nations in your honor.
