قَد كُنتَ نَبّالاً بِلَحظِكَ صائِداً

فَأردَفتُ رُمحاً حينَ أَصبَحت ناهِدا

You were a hunter with your glances, aiming

So I followed with a spear when you became a gazelle

سِلاحٌ وَلَكِن لا يَضيرُ مُدانياً

وَيَنفُذُ فيهِ حده مُتَباعِدا

A weapon but it does not harm the beloved

And it penetrates whom it distances

يُبَرِّزُ وَرد الخَدِّ ثمَّ يُعيدُهُ

وَلَم أَرَ وَرداً في الكَمائِمِ عائِدا

It shows the rose of the cheek then brings it back

And I have not seen a rose in veils coming back

لَها مُقلَةٌ بِالسُقمِ تُعدي وَما بِها

سِقام وَهَل تَردي السموم الأَساوِدا

It has eyelashes that pass on sickness but it has no

Illness, and do dark poisons return healed?

لَها بَردٌ مِن دونِها الريق دونَه

فَطابَ وَلَولا ذاكَ لَم يَكُ بارِدا

It has a coldness, without which saliva is tasteless

So it was delicious, and if not for that, it would not be cold

وأَقسِمُ أَنّي ما هَمَمتُ بِريبَةٍ

لِغانِيَةٍ إِلّا إِذا كُنتُ راقِدا

And I swear I never intended any doubt

Towards a singing girl unless I was asleep

وَلَكِنَّني لَمّا رَأَيتُ جُفونَها

مُمَرَّضَةٌ أَرسَلَت طرفي عائِدا

But when I saw its eyelids diseased

I sent my eyesight back cured

وَلَو لَم تَكُن أَجفانُها صدفاً لَما

نثرن غداة البين دراً فَرائِدا

And if its eyelids were not seashells

They would not scatter pearls at dawn

كلفت بِحُبِّ البيض وَالقَلبَ مولَعٌ

بِحُبِّ المَواضي ما هجرت الخَرائِدا

I was assigned to love the white ones, and my heart inclined

To love the meadows, so I did not abandon the cages

تُوَسدني العيس الطَليح ذِراعها

إِذا لَم توسدني الخَريدة ساعِدا

The docile oryx pillows me with its forearm

When the pillow does not pillow me with its elbow

وَيُسعدني سَيفي عَلى كُلِّ بُغيةٍ

إِذا لَم أَجِد في العالَمينَ مُساعِدا

And my sword makes me happy against every aggression

If I cannot find in the two worlds a supporter

وَكُنتُ إِذا ما رُمتُ رَعيَ قَرارَةٍ

مِنَ المَجدِ أَرسَلتُ الرُدَينيَّ رائِدا

And I used to when I wanted to hunt

Some glory, send the guide ahead

وَكَم رَجُلٍ أَثوابُهُ دونَ قَدرِهِ

وَقَد يَلبِس السلك الجمان الفَرائِدا

And how many men, their clothes are less than their worth

Yet silk clothes the worthless too

فَلا يُعجِبَن ذا البُخلِ كَثرَة مالِهِ

فَإِنَّ الشَغا نَقص وَإِن كانَ زائِدا

So I am not impressed by the miser and his abundant money

Extra is a flaw even if it is surplus

فَوا أَسَفا حَتّام أَمدَح جاهِلاً

وَأَنظَم فيمَن لا يُساوي القَصائِدَ

Oh what a pity, Hittam, I praise an ignorant man

And compose poetry for one not worth poems

وَأَمدَح قَوماً لَيسَ يَدرونَ أَنَّني

مُقاوِد قَد قَلَّدتَهُم أَو قَلائَدا

And I praise a people who do not know that I

Have rhymed them with necklaces or wreaths