نَفس تَعلل بِالأَماني

لا بِالقيان وَلا القَناني

A soul excuses itself with wishes,

Not with wine or drinking cups,

وَمَدامع مَسفوحة

بَينَ المَعاهد وَالمَغاني

And tears being shed

Between covenants and songs,

وَأَبيت مَضموم اليَدي

ن عَلى التَرائب وَالجِنان

And I refused, hands clasped,

To incline toward couches and gardens.

أَشكو الصَبابة لِلصَبا

بة بِالمَدامع لا لِلسان

I complain of youth to youth

With tears, not with the tongue,

وَأَقول إِذ هَتَفت بِنا

وَرق شجاها ما شَجاني

And I say, as the leaves called out to me

And stirred, what stirred me:

يا وَرق ما هَذا النوا

ح فَبعض ما عِندي كَفاني

"Oh leaves, what is this sighing?

For some of what I have is enough for me."

غادَرت بَين الغوطي

ن بِمَنزِلي السامي المَكان

I left between sands

In my high, noble dwelling,

أَمّا لَها كَبد عَل

يَّ مذابهُ مِما تُعاني

As for it, a melting liver,

Melted from what it suffers.

تَستَحبر الركبان عَن

حالي وَتَندب كُل آن

It asks the caravans about

My state, and laments constantly,

فَعَسى الَّذي أَبلى يَعي

ن وَيَلتَقي ناء بداني

So perhaps He who made me waste away

Will come across the wailing of my body.