كَتَمتُ وَمَن أَهوى هَوانا فَلَم نَبُح
وَقَد كانَتِ الأَسرارُ بِاللَمحِ تَظهَرُ
I and the one I love concealed our love; we did not speak of it.
Yet secrets once showed themselves in a glance.
فَنَحنُ كِلانا مُقصَدٌ في فُؤادِهِ
مِنَ الشَوقِ نارٌ حَرُّها يَتَسَعَّرُ
So each of us is stricken; in each heart
a fire of longing burns with mounting heat.
فَلا أَنا أُبدي ما أُجِنُّ وَلا الَّذي
بِهِ مِثلُ ما بي لِلمَخافَةِ يَذكُرُ
I do not reveal what I conceal, nor does the one
who feels as I do speak of it, for fear.
فَيا عَجَبا مِنّي وَمِنها وَصَبرُنا
عَلى ما نُلاقي كَيفَ نَصبو وَنصبِرُ
How strange it is, for her and me, that we endure
what we suffer—how can we yearn and yet be patient?
وَما صَبرُنا أَلّا نَبوحَ فَنَشتَكي
سَرائِرَ ما يُخفي الضَميرُ وَيُضمِرُ
Our patience in keeping silent, rather than speaking and lamenting
the secrets the heart conceals and holds within,
مَلالاً وَلَكِن نَتَّقي قَولَ كاشِحٍ
يُبَلِّغُ عَنّا ما نَقولُ وَيُظهِرُ
is not born of weariness; we guard against the words of a spiteful person
who would repeat and expose what we say.
فَنَكتُمُ ما يُخفي الضَميرُ تَحَفُّظاً
وَخَيرُ الهَوى ما كانَ يُخفى وَيُستَرُ
So, out of caution, we conceal what the heart keeps hidden;
the best love is love kept secret and veiled.
عَلى أَنَّهُ يَبدو مِراراً مِنَ الفَتى
طَوالِعُ إِن هاجَ الفُؤادَ التَذَكُّرُ
Yet at times signs appear in a young lover
when remembrance stirs the heart:
إِذا غَلَبَ الصَبرَ البُكاءُ وَهُيِّجَت
تَباريحَهُ فَالصَبُّ بِالذِكرِ يُعذَرُ
when weeping overcomes patience and awakens
his anguish, the lover is excused for remembering.
Sol 6