أَيُّ نورٍ هذا الَّذي يَبهَرُ الأُف
قَ وَيَزهو مُغَشِّيا جَنَباتِهِ
What radiance is this that dazzles the horizon
And glows enveloping its sides?
هُوَ يا شاعِري الصَغيرِ رِكابي
وَيَشِعُّ الضِياءُ مِن مِشكاتِهِ
It is, my little poet, my carriage
And light shines from its lanterns.
قَد تَخَطّى إِلَيكَ كُلَّ هُبوبٍ
وَمُسَفَّ اللُجاتِ في مائِجاتِه
It has come to you overcoming all gales
And smoothly gliding through the billows.
وَبَدا فَوقَ صَفحَةِ الأُفقِ أَيّو
سَ يُقَلَّ الأَنوارِ في مَركَباتِه
It appeared above the expanse of the horizon, so splendid,
With its lights not at all dimmed in its carriages.
يا لَهُ مَركِباً غَلائِلُهُ النو
رُ وَمِن خالِصِ الأَثيرِ شِراعُه
What a carriage! Its fringes are light
And its sail is of pure ether.
اِحتَوَتهُ الأَنوارُ في رَكبِها الضا
في وَداني طَرفَ الأَواذي شُعاعُه
The lights embraced it in their orbit,
And its rays touched the edges of valleys.
فَتَراءَت مِثلَ القَناديلِ تَترى
حَولَهُ فَوقَها يَرِفُّ التَماعُه
Lanterns appeared to see lanterns around it
While its glitter hovered above them.
أَو رُؤىً في كَرىً تَراءى وِضاءً
ضَمَّ أَطيافَها إِلَيهِ قِلاعُه
Or visions in a procession seeing brightness
Whose castles drew their spectrums to it.
قَد تَهادى بَينَ الظَلامِ كَحُلمٍ
ذَهَبِيٍّ عَلى جَناحٍ فِضّي
It slipped between the darkness like a
Golden dream on a silver wing.
مِن رُؤى أَوَّلَ الكَرى وَهِيَ تَسري
مُسرِعاتٍ مِنَ العُيونِ الغُمضِ
Of the visions of the first orbit, and they flowed
Hastening from half-shut eyes.
حَولَهُ مَوجَتانِ قَد حَوتاهُ
وَهوَ فيها يَرِفُّ مِثلَ الوَمضِ
Two waves enveloped it, and it hovered among them
Like a gleam.
يُعكَسُ السِحرُ فَوقَهُ كُلَّ حينٍ
في زَهِيِّ الأَطيافِ مِن كُلِّ مَحضِ
Magic is reflected above it at all times
In the glow of spectrums and purified essence.
أَنتَ يا شاعِري تَحَمَّلتَ صَبراً
في حَياةٍ مَحفوفَةٍ بِالزَوالِ
You, my poet, have endured with patience
A life fraught with decay.
هِيَ رُؤيا حِلمٍ وَيَقظَتُهُ المَو
تُ وَقَفرٌ سَماؤُهُ مِن آلِ
It is a dream vision, and its waking is death,
And its sky is barren of family.
تَبدَأُ العَيشَ في الَّذي تَنتَهي في
هِ سَوادٌ عَلى قَفيرِ خالِ
Life begins in that which it ends,
Darkness over desolate ruins.
وَنَهارٌ يَمضي بِساحَةِ لَيلَي
نِ هُوَ العَيشُ وَهوَ عُمرُ خَيالي
And a day passes in the arena of two nights,
It is life, and it is the age of fantasy.
إيهِ يا شاعِري تَحَمَّلتَ صَبراً
في عَذابٍ قَد فاقَ كُلَّ عَذابِ
What patience you have endured, my poet,
In torment that surpassed all torment.
لَكَأَنّي أَراكَ في نَشوَةِ الفِك
رِ شَكِيّاً تَشكو مِنَ الأَوصابِ
It is as if I see you in the intoxication of thought
Complaining of grief.
أَتُرى تَرتَضي اِصطِحابي إِلى الجَنَّ
ةِ مَثوى الشَوادِنِ الأَسرابِ
Do you wish me to accompany you to Paradise,
Abode of the black-eyed houris?
حَيثُ تَلقى ما تَشتَهيهِ مِنَ الآما
لِ في الأَشرِباتِ وَالأَسلابِ
Where you will find all that you desire
Of drinks and robes.
