يا مَن تَمادى قَلبُهُ في الهَوى
سالَ بِكَ السَيلُ وَلا تَدري
O you whose heart is lost in passion's maze,
The flood with you has flowed, unknowing;
أَبَعدَ ما قَد صِرتَ أُحدوثَةً
بِالنُسكِ مِثلَ الحَسَنِ البَصري
To what ascetic heights have you now turned
In piety, like virtuous Hasan!
أَسقَمتَ جِسماً كانَ ذا صِحَّةٍ
مُقَلَّبَ القَلبِ عَلى الجَمرِ
A body once so hale you've weakened now,
Your heart on living coals now tossing;
لا جَزَعي يَنفَعُني عِندَكُم
شَيئاً وَلا أَصبِرُ لِلصَبرِ
No anguished cry will aid me with you all,
Nor can I now find patience in my soul.
إِنَّ الَّذي أُظهِرُ عِندَ الَّذي
أُضمِرُ كَالنُقطَةِ في البَحرِ
What I inside conceal is as a mote
Upon the sea's immensity;
اليَومُ مِثلُ العامِ حَتّى أَرى
وَجهَكِ وَالساعَةُ كَالشَهرِ
A day to me's a year until I see
Your face; an hour's a month now hollowly.
وَاللَهِ لَولا نَظَري كُلَّما
غابَت إِلى الشَمسِ أَوِ البَدرِ
And by my God, but for my constant gaze
To sun or moon when you are far away,
أُعَلِّلُ النَفسَ بِأَشباهِها
لَما اِستَقَرَّ القَلبُ في الصَدرِ
I could not curb my soul and its caprice,
Nor settle down my heart beat steadfastly,
كَأَنَّ كَأساً سَلسَبيلِيَّةً
مَملوءَةً بِالمِسكِ وَالخَمرِ
As though it were a crystal cup brimful
Of musk and wine in mingled rarity,
طَعمُ ثَناياها بُعَيدَ الكَرى
أَخبُرُهُ مِنها بِلا خُبرِ
Whose inmost essence, far beyond all ken,
Is only known to me in phantasy.
تِلكَ الَّتي لَو ذُقتُ مِن رِيقِها
ما ذُقتُ سُقماً آخِرَ الدَهرِ
That cup whose draft, if I could drink thereof,
No other sickness would I know till death.
ماذا عَلى أَهلِكِ أَن لا يَروا
عِطراً وَأَنتِ العِطرُ لِلعِطرِ
Why should your people, who no perfume see,
Find fault with you who are perfume itself?
أَمّا الَّتي عاتَبتِ في أَمرِها
بِما تَظُنّينَ مِنَ الأَمرِ
She who reproached me for what fancied thing,
Knows not what stuff man's true life's made of.
فَهوَ كَما قُلتِ وَلَكِنَّني
لَم أَرتَكِب شَيئاً سِوى الذِكرِ
I've done no evil, only thought of her;
Then punish me, for God rules equity,
فعاقِبيني إِنَّني حالِفٌ بِاللَهِ
رَبِّ الشَفعِ وَالوَترِ
Just arbiter of odd and even numbers.
One glance has marred my heart, that wanton boy,
أَفسَدَ قَلبي شادِنٌ أَحوَرٌ
يَسحَرُ بالعَينَينِ وَالثَغرِ
Who by his eyes and lips can sorcery.
Had I but known he was a sorcerer,
لَو كُنتُ أَدري أَنَّهُ ساحِرٌ
عَلَّقتُ تَعويذاً مِنَ السِحرِ
Against his spells I would have taken pre-
cautions.
كُنتُ أُهادِيهِ سَلامي فَلا
يَدخُلُهُ شَيءٌ مِنَ الكِبرِ
I used to greet him mildly, taking pains
Lest any pride in him my greeting spurn.
حَتّى إِذا خاطَبتُهُ بِالهَوى
خاطَبَني بِالسَبِّ وَالزَجرِ
But when I spoke to him of love, he cried
Abuse and bitter, angry words in turn.
فَلَيتَهُ عادَ وَعُدنا لَهُ
بِمِثلِ ما كُنّا إِلى الحَشرِ
Would he but come again, and we'd return
To what we were, until the judgment day.
لَو لَم يَكُن هَجرٌ لَطابَ الهَوى
أَعاذَنا اللَهُ مِنَ الهَجرِ
Without this estrangement, love were sweet;
God guard us against all rejecting way!
