طابَ الهَوى لِعَميدِه

لَولا اِعتِراضُ صُدودِه

Love thrived for its leader

Love would be sweet for its captive heart,

If not for the obstruction of barriers

Were it not for the barrier of his disdain.

وَقادَني حُبُّ ريمٍ

مُهَفهَفِ الكَشحِ رودِه

And the love of Rim led me

I was led by the love of a fawn,

With fluttering forelocks and fleeing

Slender of waist, tender in grace;

كَالبَدرِ لَيلَةَ عَشرٍ

وَأَربَعٍ لِسُعودِه

Like the full moon on the night of the tenth

Like the full moon on its fourteenth night,

And fourteenth in its ascension

Rising in the auspicious height of its glow.

بَدا يُدِلُّ عَلَينا

بِمُقلَتَيهِ وَجيدِه

He started to glance at us

He appeared, casting coy glances upon us,

With his eyelids and forehead

With the charm of his eyes and the curve of his neck.

فَاِصطادَني لِحِمامي

تَخطارُهُ في بُرودِه

So he hunted me to my dove

He hunted me down to my very doom,

His coldness causing me apprehension

With his swaying gait in embroidered cloaks.

فَقُمتُ نُصبَ عَدُوٍّ

قاسي الفُؤادِ كَنودِه

Thus I stood facing an enemy

So I stood exposed before a foe,

Hardhearted like granite stone

Hard of heart, ungrateful and cruel.

لا أَستَطيعُ فِراراً

مِن بَرقِهِ وَرُعودِه

I cannot escape

I can find no way to take flight

From his lightning and thunder

From his flashing lightning and rolling thunder.

وَعَسكَرُ الحُبِّ حَولي

بِخَيلِهِ وَجُنودِه

And the army of love surrounds me

While the army of Love surrounds me close,

With its horses and soldiers

With all its cavalry and gathered troops.

فَإِن عَدَلتُ يَميناً

خَشيتُ وَقعَ وُعودِه

So if I go right

If I turn my course to the right,

I fear the falling of promises

I fear the strike of his threatened blow.

وَإِن شَمالاً فَمَوتٌ

لا بُدَّ لي مِن وُرودِه

And if left then death

And if to the left, there lies a death

I must inevitably enter

Which I must inevitably approach and taste.

وَإِن رَجَعتُ وَرائي

خَشيتُ زَأرَ أُسودِه

And if I go back

And should I retreat to the rear,

I fear the roar of lions

I dread the roar of his guarding lions.

وَنُصبَ عَينَيَ طَودٌ

فَكَيفَ لي بِصُعودِه

And a tall mountain blocks my eyes

Before my eyes stands a towering peak,

So how can I climb it?

And how could I hope to scale its heights?

وَتَحتَ رِجلِيَ بَحرٌ

يَجري الهَوى بِمُدودِه

And beneath my feet an ocean

While beneath my feet is a churning sea,

With passions flowing in its depths

Where passion flows with its rising tides.

وَفَوقَ رَأسِيَ كَمِيٌّ

مُقَنَّعٌ في حَديدِه

And above my head a watcher

And looming above is a warrior bold,

Masked in his iron armor

Veiled within a mask of iron,

مُجَرَّدٌ لِيَ سَيفاً

وَيلاهُ مِن تَجريدِه

Unsheathing his sword at me

Having drawn a naked blade against me—

Frightening me with its unsheathing

Woe unto me from its unsheathing!

فَلَستُ أَرفَعُ طَرفي

حِذارَ ماضِ حَديدِه

So I do not lift my eyes

So I dare not lift my gaze to him,

Fearing the blow of his iron

In terror of his steel's sharp edge.

وَلي خُشوعُ المُصَلّي

في دَيرِهِ يَومَ عيدِه

And I have the humility of the worshipper

I bear the humility of a monk at prayer,

In his monastery on feast day

Inside his cloister on a holy feast.

كَأَنَّني مُستَهامٌ

ضَلَّ الطَريقَ بِبيدِه

As if I have lost my way

As though I were a distracted soul,

Wandering confused in the desert

Who lost the path in a barren waste.

لَو لاحَ لي مِنهُ نَهجٌ

رَكِبتُ نَهجَ صَعيدِه

If he shows me a path

If a clear way had appeared from him,

I would take the path of his plains

I would have ridden the path of his ground.

فَالوَيلُ لي كَيفَ أَنجو

مِن حُمرِ مَوتٍ وَسودِه

So woe to me, how do I escape

So woe is me, how shall I survive

From the red death and the black?

The red of death and its darkest black?

لا شَيءَ إِلّا اِشتِغالي

بِيُمنِ موسى وَجودِه

Nothing except my occupation

Nothing remains but my devotion

With the generosity of Moses' right hand

To Musa's blessing and his open hand.

فَكَم شَديدٍ بِهِ قَد

دَفَعتُ خَوفَ شَديدِه

For by it I have dispelled

For how many terrors have I repelled

The fear of many fears

Through him, escaping the fear of the strong.

لا مَرَّةً بَعدَ أُخرى

أَكِلُّ عَن تَعديدِه

Never once after another

Not merely once, nor time and again—

Do I cease counting them

I grow weary attempting to count the sum.

أَيّامَ أَنفُ حَسودي

دامٍ وَأَنفُ حَسودِه

The days of my envious foes

In days when the nose of my envier bled,

Lasting while the envious last

As did the nose of the one who envied him.

غَنّى السَماحُ بِموسى

في هَزجِهِ وَنَشيدِه

The tolerant sang of Moses

Generosity sang the praise of Musa,

In his yearning and chant

In its rhythmic trills and anthems loud.

وَكَيفَ يَهزِجُ إِلّا

بِإِلفِهِ وَعَقيدِه

And how could he not chant

And how could it sing, except to praise

Except by his faith and belief?

Its intimate friend and sworn ally?