عَلى قَدرِ الهَوى يَأتي العِتابُ

وَمَن عاتَبتُ يَفديهِ الصِحابُ

Reproach comes in proportion to passion's measure;

He whom I reproach, companionship makes amends.

أَلومُ مُعَذِبي فَأَلومُ نَفسي

فَأُغضِبُها وَيُرضيها العَذابُ

I blame my tormentor, then myself I blame,

Angering her, though torment pleases her anon.

وَلَو أَنّي اِستَطَعتُ لَتُبتُ عَنهُ

وَلَكِن كَيفَ عَن روحي المَتابُ

If I could, from it I would turn, but how

Can I from my own soul, once enslaved, withdraw?

وَلي قَلبٌ بِأَن يَهوى يُجازى

وَمالِكُهُ بِأَن يَجني يُثابُ

My heart is destined to adore, and to

Adore, my lord, deserves reward. And yet,

وَلَو وُجِدَ العِقابُ فَعَلتُ لَكِن

نِفارُ الظَبيِ لَيسَ لَهُ عِقابُ

If punishment there were, I still would do

What I have done, for Gazelles take no heed of interdict.

يَلومُ اللائِمونَ وَما رَأَوهُ

وَقِدماً ضاعَ في الناسِ الصَوابُ

The critics blame, but what have they perceived?

Long since, among mankind, sense strayed from wisdom's road.

صَحَوتُ فَأَنكَرَ السُلوانَ قَلبي

عَلَيَّ وَراجَعَ الطَرَبَ الشَبابُ

I woke to find caprice rejecting my heart ‘gainst me,

And the madness of youth was renewed within my blood.

كَأَنَّ يَدَ الغَرامِ زِمامُ قَلبي

فَلَيسَ عَلَيهِ دونَ هَوىً حِجابُ

The hand of love holds my heart by the bridle-rein,

Nor is there, save passion, a veil o'er it.

كَأَنَّ رِوايَةَ الأَشواقِ عَودٌ

عَلى بَدءٍ وَما كَمُلَ الكِتابُ

Recounting longing is like a limber vine,

That will creep as far as it can spread and coil.

كَأَنِّيَ وَالهَوى أَخَوا مُدامٍ

لَنا عَهدٌ بِها وَلَنا اِصطِحابُ

I and love are partners in a pact of wine

That binds us and in company joins our days.

إِذا ما اِعتَضتُ عَن عِشقٍ بِعِشقِ

أُعيدَ العَهدُ وَاِمتَدَّ الشَرابُ

If I oppose one love for another's sake

Vows are renewed and our draught is unbroken.