جَوانحُ لِلغَرامِ بِها وُشومُ
وَأَجفانٌ عَلى أَرَقٍ تَحومُ
My heart bears passion’s tattoo-marks,
and eyelids hover over sleeplessness.
لَئِنْ رَقَدَتْ ظَلومُ وأَسهَرَتني
فَذلكَ دأَبُها وَهْيَ الظَّلومُ
Though those eyes slept and left me wakeful,
that is their wont—for cruel they are.
وَلَو سأَلَتْ نُجومَ اللَّيلِ عَنّي
لَخَبَّرها بِما أَلقَى النُّجومُ
Had she asked the stars of night about me,
the stars would tell her what I endure.
أُراعيها وَلي نَظَرٌ كَليلٌ
يُكَفكِفُ غَربَهُ الدَّمعُ السَّجومُ
I watch them, though my gaze is dim,
its keenness blunted by streaming tears.
فَرِقِّي يا ظَلومُ بِمُستَهامٍ
تُراوِحُ بَينَ جَنبَيهِ الهُمومُ
So, cruel one, be gentle with a man distraught by love,
while cares shuttle between his two sides.
Sol 5.6