أَكان الصبا إِلا خيالا مسلما — Albohtry

Was youth anything but a phantom offering a greeting,

That lingered for an eyeblink, then vanished?

I find the shortest days the most praiseworthy in youth,

And the longest those in which it was held blameworthy.

I lingered in the folly of affecting youth, and desired no

Substitute for it—if only folly itself could linger.

And a day of meeting amid parting I witnessed,

With an eye that wept blood whenever I restrained it.

We overtook the departing company at midmorning, when it had

Taken the course it chose toward the protected pasture.

So I said, 'A happy morning to you all from us!' Yet I only

Meant, by my words, the pampered gazelle.

And none spent the night harboring ardor

In separation’s wake but a man who spent it love-struck.

I lived as a led steed for beautiful women, who led me

Until youth’s prime had passed—and even afterward.

And long ago I defied the reproaching women, nor obeyed

The first signs of this gray hair when they came as reproachers.

I say to the torrent-pouring cloud, which has traveled by night,

With a copious downpour, raining over everything:

Rain little or much; you will reach no height

That sets you apart until you rival Haytham.

He is death—woe from him! Do not meet his edge;

For your death is to meet him, his battle-mark displayed, amid the dust.

A youth from whom the nights have donned beauties;

The once-dark horizon shone for them.

A veteran of wars that straightened his judgment’s resolve;

And a Khatti spear will never strike true until it is straightened.

He rose in the morning, and Nizar and Ya‘rub rose to pray

For him to live among them for all time, safe and sound.

He showed them humility born of glory and generosity;

And every great man dislikes self-aggrandizement.

Every tribe has a branch of his bounty,

And one tribe among them claims him when he declares his lineage.

He sought them all out with generosity, until they swore

That his bounty and the sea were twins.

O Abu al-Qasim, you drew abundant milk from qualities

That filled the earth’s broad paths with hardship and blessings.

When a people race you in pursuit of eminence,

Whatever advanced in their endeavors falls behind.

Peace! And though peace is a greeting,

Your face, without a reply, is enough for the one who greets you.

Do you not see the Euphrates’ flood, as though it were

The mountains of Sharawra, come swimming in the sea?

Nor was this among its habits; it merely

Saw a trait in its neighbor and learned it.

Nor did the Syrian garden blossom; rather, a youth

Smiled from its eastern side, and it smiled in turn.

Cheerful spring has come to you, strutting and laughing,

With such beauty that it almost spoke.

And Nowruz has awakened, in the night’s predawn gloom,

The earliest roses, which were asleep yesterday.

The dew’s coolness opens them, as though it

Were spreading a tale kept secret yesterday.

And many a tree whose garment spring has restored

To it, as you spread out finely patterned brocade,

Has left its consecrated state and shown gladness to the eyes,

Though it was a mote in the eye while still consecrated.

And the wind’s breeze grew so gentle that I thought it

Came bearing the soft breaths of loved ones.

Then what holds back the wine whose intimate friend you are,

And what keeps the strings from singing?

And you have always been a sun to drinking companions when they grow tipsy,

And become full moons, urging stars onward.

You were generous toward them even before the cups,

So they could not create generosity in you.