أحسنُ من رحلةِ الفراق

تحدو بها البينُ بانطلاقِ

Better than a journey of separation,

Driven swiftly by the call of parting,

ومن بكاءٍ على رسومٍ

جاهلةٍ بالتي تُلاقي

And better than weeping over traces of ruins,

Which are ignorant of the fate they meet,

لِفُرقةِ البدرِ يوم ولى

فوق جُماليّةٍ عتاق

At the leaving of the full moon the day he turned away,

Mounted upon a noble, swift she-camel,

ليس لها بالمهبّ عهدٌ

ولا سبيل إلى التلاقِ

That has no acquaintance with where the wind blows,

And no path left for a reunion—

حماسيَ اللهوُ رُبَّ لهوٍ

يحلفُ بالسيفِ والنطاقِ

My passion is amusement—and what amusement!

It swears by the sword and the waist-belt,

في حللٍ كالبهارِ صفر

مُددنَ طوعاً بكفّ ساق

In robes yellow as the meadow daisy,

Extended willingly by the cupbearer's hand.

فإنّ لي ماجِناً غويّاً

أغبرُ من حلّ بالعراقِ

For I possess a shameless, misguided rogue,

The dustiest of all who settled in Iraq,

مموّه الدين عسكرياً

يُعرفُ بالفُسقِ والنفاقِ

Feigning religion, yet soldier-like in bearing,

Known for debauchery and hypocrisy.

يُكتبُ في ميمهِ بلامٍ

يشفيهِ من لوعة الحِلاق

In his 'Mim', a 'Lam' is inscribed,

Curing him of the burning pain of the blade,

حتى إذا استنَّ من خلاقٍ

وآل في قبضة السياق

Until, when he races upon his course,

And falls into the grip of the driving hand,

فزقّهُ لا بقرعِ سوط

ونوّخَ الرأسَ بالبصاقِ

He is fed—not by the strike of a whip,

But bowing his head to spit,

فجادَ من طرفهِ بدمع

من غير شُفر ولا مآقي

Generously shedding a tear from his tip,

Without an eyelid or tear duct.

فذاكَ بين الغواةِ أدرى

من دَلَجِ الليلِ بالرفاقِ

That one is more knowledgeable among the seducers,

Than night-travelers are of their companions.