هي الكأسُ مشرقةً في يديكَ،

فماذا أرابكَ في خمرِها؟

It is the goblet shining in your hands,

So what troubles you about its wine?

نظرتَ إليها وباعدْتَهَا

كأنَّ المنيَّةَ في قَطْرِهَا

You looked at it and pushed it away

As if death lies in its drops

أما ذقتَها قبلَ هذا المسَاءِ

وعربدْتَ نشوانَ من سُكْرِهَا؟

Have you not tasted it before this evening

And chatted tipsily in its intoxication?

حَلَا طعمُها يوم كنتَ الخَلِيَّ،

وكلُّ الصبابةِ في مُرِّهَا

Its taste was sweet when you were a youth,

And all the youth were in its bitterness

سُقيتَ بها من يدٍ لم تَكُنْ

سوى الريح تَنْفُخُ في جَمْرِهَا

You were given it from a hand that was

Nothing but the wind blowing in its embers

تَلَفَّتْ! فهذا خيالُ التي

مَرِحْتَ وغرَّدتَ في وكْرِهَا

It evaporated! So this is the fantasy of her

Whom you frolicked and sang in her den

وغُرفتُها لم تزَلْ مثلما

تنسَّمتَ حُبَّكَ من عطرِهَا

And I scooped it just as

You would breathe in your love from its fragrance

وقفتَ بها ساهمًا مُطرقًا

يحدِّثكَ الليلُ عن سرِّها

You stood by it, distracted and pensive,

As the night tells you its secret

مكانُكَ فيها كما كان أمسِ،

وذلك مثواكَ في خِدْرِهَا

Your place in it is as it was yesterday,

And that is your dwelling in its chambers

وآثارُ دمعِك فوقَ الوسادِ،

وفوق المُهدَّل من سترِهَا

And traces of your tears atop the pillow,

And atop the dishevelled from its cover

فهل ذُقْتَ حقًّا صفاءَ الحياةِ،

وذَوْبَ السعادة في ثَغْرِهَا؟

So have you truly tasted life’s clarity,

And the melting of happiness in her mouth?

إذا فُتِحَ البابُ تحتَ الظلامِ

فكيف ارتماؤُكَ في صَدرِهَا؟

If the door opens in the darkness

Then how do you hurl yourself at her chest?

وكيف طوى خَصْرَهَا ساعدَاكَ

ومرَّتْ يَدَاكَ على شعرِهَا؟

And how did her waist fold over your arms

And your hands passed over her hair?

وما هذه؟ رِعْشَةٌ في يَدَيْكَ؟

أم الكَأْسُ ترجُفُ من ذِكْرِهَا؟

And what’s this? A tremor in your hands?

Or does the goblet shake from the memory?

وما في جبينك، يا ابنَ الخيال؟

سِماتٌ تُحَدِّثُ عن غَدْرِهَا!!

And what's on your brow, o son of fantasy?

Are there marks telling of her betrayal?

لقد دنَّسَ الجسَدُ الآدميُّ

حياةً حَرَصْتَ على طُهْرِهَا

The human body has defiled

A life you sought to purify

بكى الفنُّ فيكَ على شاعرٍ

تسائِلُهُ الروحُ عن ثَأْرِهَا

Art cries in you for a poet

Whose soul questions his revenge

نزلتَ بها وَهْدَةً كم خبا

شُعاعٌ وغُيِّبَ في قبرِهَا

You descended with it serenely, though so much dishonour

A ray that sets in its grave

رفعتَ تماثيلَكَ الرائعاتِ

وحَطَّمْتَهُنَّ على صَخْرِهَا

You raised your magnificent statues

And smashed them on her rock

فدَعْ زهرةَ الأرض يا ابنَ السماءِ،

فأنتَ المبرَّأُ من شرِّهَا

So leave the flower of the earth, o son of the sky,

For you are innocent of its evil

مراحُك في السُّحُبِ العالِيَاتِ

وفوق المنَوِّرِ من زُهْرِهَا

Your processions are in the high clouds

And above the gleaming from its blossoms

فَمُدَّ جَنَاحَيْكَ فوق الحياةِ،

وأطْلِقْ نشيدَك في فَجْرِهَا

So stretch your wings above life,

And unleash your anthem at its dawn