لَقَد رَنَّقَت عَينُ النَهارِ وَأَسدَلَت
ضَفائِرَها فَوقَ المُروجِ الدِياجِرُ
The eye of daylight grew weary and cast
Its braids over the slumbering meadows.
وَقَد خَرَجَ الخُفّاشُ يَهمِسُ في الدُجى
وَدَبَت عَلى الشَطِّ الهَوامُ النَوافِرُ
The bat slipped out, whispering in the gloom,
While beasts prowled the riverbanks.
وَطارَت مِنَ الجَميزِ تَصرُخُ بومَةٌ
عَلى صَوتِ هِرٍّ في الدُجى يَتَشاجَرُ
An owl shrieked from the acacia tree
At the snarling of some beast in the dark.
وَفي فَتَراتٍ يَنبَحُ الكَلبُ عابِساً
فَيَعوي لَهُ ذِئبٌ مِنَ الحَقلِ خادِرُ
Between bouts, the sullen hound would bay
And a jackal would howl back from the field.
مَشيتُ وَحيداً مُطرِقُ الرَأسِ باكِياً
وَقَد شَرَّدَت في الحُزنِ مِنّي خَواطِرُ
Alone I walked, head bowed, weeping,
My thoughts scattered, lost in sorrow.
حَزيناً تَهادى في الظَلامِ كَأَنَّني
إِلى الأُفقِ المَجهولِ في اللَيلِ سائِرُ
Sadly I drifted in the dark, as though
Heading into the vague horizon of night.
لَقَد أَشعَلَت كُلَّ المَآذِنِ نورَها
وَلاحَت عَلى الأُفقِ البَعيدِ المَقابِرُ
The minarets had kindled all their lights
And the distant cemeteries glimmered.
وَقَد عَقَدَت نارُ العُروشِ سَحائِبا
عَلَيها وَفاحَت بِالدُخانِ المَجامِرُ
Fires of hearths had formed clouds
Over them, smoke rising from their embers.
وَمِن تَلعَةٍ تَبدو البُروجُ وَفَوقَها
حَمامٌ عَلى الصَمتِ المُخيمِ ذاكِرُ
From a hill, the mansions appeared; above,
A dove called to a friend lost in the gloom,
يُنادي أَليفاً ضَلَّ في الدَغلِ مَسلِكاً
وَلَم يُبصِر الأَبراجَ وَالسَربُ عابِرُ
Unable to see the constellations or passing flocks.
The biting cold had folded its wings.
وقَد جَمَشَ البَردُ الشَفيفُ جَناحَهُ
فَمَدَّت لِنَتفِ الريشِ مِنهُ مَناقِرُ
A plume reached out, searching for bits of down.
By day it found no rest from the bustle within;
يُراعي نَهاراً لَيسَ يَقبِلُ لَيلُهُ
مِنَ الفَختِ فيهِ تَستَكِنُّ الهَوادِرُ
By night the rabble quieted down.
Feelings of anxiety in the dark, of desolation,
شُعورُ اِنقِباضٍ في الظَلامِ وَوَحشَةُ
وَصَمتٌ حُزنٍ شَدَّ ما أَنا ناظِرُ
Silence of sorrow was all I could see.
Whence comes the throbbing of my heart?
فَمِن أَينَ قَلبي يَستَمِدُّ خُفوقَهُ
وَمِن أَيُّها لي تَستَمِدُّ المَصادِرُ
What is left to sustain me?
Down in the valley floor, huts stood
وَفي مَهبَطِ الوادي تَقومُ عَرائِشٌ
مِنَ الكَرمِ وَالناطورُ في اللَيلِ ساهِرُ
Of vines, and the watchman stayed up through the night.
He had lit fires in them to warm himself.
وَقَد أَشعَلَ النيرانَ فيها لِيَصطَلي
فَرَفَّ لَهيبٌ في العَرائِشِ واهِرُ
Flames leapt up, blazing in the huts.
He strummed his flute as the night listened
يَزمرُ في الأَرغولِ وَاللَيلُ سامِعٌ
وَيُصغي إِلى الأَوهامِ وَاللَيلُ زامِرُ
And dreamed to the strains as the night grew merry.
I saw the plain in silent gloom,
أَرى السَهلَ في صَمتٍ كَئيبٍ وَوَحشَةٍ
تُخيمُ فَوقَ اللَيلِ وَالكَونُ غامِرُ
Gloom hanging over the night and the teeming world.
Whence comes the throbbing of my heart?
فَمِن أَينَ قَلبي يَستَمِدُّ خُفوقَهُ
وَمِن أَيُّها لي تَستَمِدُّ المَصادِرُ
What is left to sustain me?
