أَتاني كِتابٌ مِن مَليكٍ بِخَطِّهِ
فَما أَعظَمَ النُعمى وَما أَضعَفَ الشُكرا
A letter came to me from a sovereign, penned in his own hand;
how great the favor, and how feeble the thanks!
فَظَلَّت تُناجيني بِما في ضَميرِها
أَنامِلُ قَد خَطَّت بِأَقلامِها سِحرا
And fingertips kept whispering to me what lay within her heart—
fingertips that had traced magic with their pens.
وَإِني لَأَستَبطي المَنِيَّةَ كُلَّما
ذَكَرتُ الَّتي لا أَستَطيعُ لَها ذِكرا
Indeed, I find death slow in coming whenever
I remember her whom I cannot bring myself to mention.
فَلمّا تَفَهَّمتُ الكِتابَ رَدَدتُهُ
إِلَيها وَلَم أَبعَث بِرَدٍ لَهُ سَطرا
Then, when I had fully grasped the letter, I returned it
to her, and sent not a single line in answer to it.
Sol 5.6