اِقرَا الدَموعَ فَإِنَّها عُنواني

وَأَنا كِتابُ كَتائِبِ الأَشجانِ

Read my tears, for they are my title,

And I am the book of melancholic passions,

مِثلُ الكِتابِ ضَنىً وَمِثلُ يَراعِهِ

بَل خَطِّهِ بَل شَكلِهِ المُتَفاني

Like the book, sorrowful, and like its reader,

Nay, like its line, nay, like its vanishing shape,

لَم يَبقَ مِنّي في العُيونِ بَقِيَّةٌ

وَاللَهُ يُبقي لي الَّذي أَفاناني

Nothing of me remains in the eyes,

And God keeps for me that which made me vanish,

لَو لَم أَكُن كَالخَطِّ مِن سُقمٍ لَما

رَجَعَ اللَواحِظَ فِيَّ مَن يَقراني

Had I not been like the line, sickly,

He who observes me would not have returned to me,

مُتَبَيِّناً بَيتي كَحَرفِ مُشكِلٍ

أَعيا بِما أَعطى يَدَ البُنيانِ

Making clear my verse like an ambiguous letter,

Perplexed at what the hand of building gave,

هَيهاتَ تثنيني النَواظِرُ بَعدَ ما

أَمَرَ الحَبيبُ صُدودَهُ فَمَحاني

Alas! The glances will not make me deviate after

My beloved ordered his aversion to erase me,

في كُلِّ يَومٍ لِلغَرامِ زِيادَةٌ

تُبدي عَلَيَّ زِيادَةَ النُقصانِ

Every day the passion increases upon me,

Revealing unto me the increase of diminution,

مُذ قُلتَ إِنّي كَالكِتابِ لِيَثْنِني

ما قُلتُ ذاكَ طَوى الهَوى وَطَواني

Since you said I am like the book in order to dissuade me,

I said not that, passion has folded and bent me,

مَنْ لا أَراهُ مِنْ تَوَقُّدِ نورِهِ

وَمِنَ السَقامِ فَلا يَكادُ يَراني

He who does not see me from the kindling of his light,

And from the sickness, he can barely see me,

فَلَوَ اَنّني نِلتُ المُنى بِعِناقِهِ

ما بانَ مِنّا لِلعُيونِ اِثنانِ

If only I had attained the wish through his embrace

We two would not have appeared to the eyes,

ما صَحَّ عَن إِسنادِ سُقمِ قُلوبِنا

إِلّا الَّذي يُروى عَنِ الأَجفانِ

That which is narrated from the ascription of our hearts’ sickness,

Is only that which is narrated from the eyelids,

وَحَديثُ سُقمي في هَواهُم سائِرٌ

في أَرضِهِم بِطَريقِهِ عَن عانِ

And the narration of my sickness among those who love him is current,

In their land, on its path, from spring to spring,

وَلَقَد بَكَيتُهُمُ بِغَيرِ مَدامِعٍ

وَلَقَد شَكَوتُهُمُ بِغَيرِ لِسانِ

And indeed I cried over them without tears,

And indeed I complained of them without a tongue,

وَالهَمُّ أَلطَفُ ما اِستَدَلَّ فَإِنَّهُ

لَم يَخفَ عَنهُ مَعَ الخَفاءِ مَكاني

And anxiety is the gentlest thing that betrayed me,

For it did not escape from it, despite concealment, my place,

وَكَتَمتُ حُبَّهُمُ وَكَتمي حُبَّهُم

لا بَل كَتَمتُ الحُبَّ عَن كِتماني

And I concealed my love of them, and concealed my love of them,

Nay, I concealed love from concealment itself,

مَن أَودَعَ الأَسرارَ عِندَ جَنانِهِ

فَأَنا الَّذي كاتَمتُها لِجَناني

Whoever deposits secrets in his soul,

It is I who concealed them for my soul,

فَالسِرُّ مَحمولٌ وَلَيسَ بِحامِلٍ

أَو لا فَمَوجودٌ وَلا بِمَكانِ

Thus the secret is carried but not by a carrier,

Or not, so neither present nor in a place,

قَلبي كَمِثلِ الزِندِ إِن تَترُكْهُ ما

يُبدي الَّذي يَخفى مِنَ النيرانِ

My heart is like tinder, if you leave it, it does not reveal,

That which is hidden of fires,

وَالعَينُ مِثلُ العَينِ إِن تُترَكُ فَما

تَسمو زلالَتُها إِلى الظَمآنِ

And the eye is like the eye, if left, its limpidity,

Does not rise to the thirsty,

ما حيلَةُ الإِنسانِ في أَحبابِهِ

غَدَروا بِهِ ما حيلَةُ الإِنسانِ

What is the stratagem of man regarding his loved ones,

Who betrayed him? What is the stratagem of man?

يَرجو ثِمارَهُمُ وَما فيها رَأى

ثَمَراً يَراهُ في غُصونِ البانِ

He hopes for their fruits while he has not seen in them,

A fruit he sees in the branches of separation,

أَجرى عَلى الأَعطافِ حَدَّ عِيانِهِ

وَالحَدُّ لا يَجري عَلى السَكرانِ

He made the limit of his blindness flow,

And the limit does not flow on the intoxicated,

وَلَقَد أَرى التَثقيفَ أَولى بِالقَنا

يُتَكَلَّفُ التَثقيفُ بِالأَغصانِ

And indeed I see the education more fitting for the reed,

Education is a pretense for the branches,

اللَهُ جارُهُم فَفيهِم مِثلُ ما

في أَدمُعي فيهِم مِنَ الأَلوانِ

God is their neighbor! So in them is that which,

Is in my tears, of colors in them,

وَأُريدُ جَمعَ الشَملِ مِنّي في الهَوى

بِهِمُ وَلَكِن ما يُريدُ زَماني

And I want to unite what is from me in passion,

With them, but my time does not want me,

إِنَّ الَّذي مِنهُ الصُدودُ أَماتَني

هُوَ بِالوِصالِ إِذا اِشتَهى أَحياني

Indeed, he from whom comes the estrangement has killed me,

It is he, with union, whenever he wills, who brings me to life,

وَلَأَبلُغَنَّ مُرادَهُ في مُهجَتي

أَو لا فَإِنّا اليَومَ مُختَلِفانِ

And I will attain his purpose in my devastation,

Or not, for today we differ,

إِنسانُ عَيني بِالحَقيقَةِ دارُهُ

فَأَراهُ مَحمولاً عَلى أَجفاني

The human of my eye in reality, his home is it,

So I see him carried on my eyelids,

وَإِذا أَتَت مِنهُ الإِساءَةُ دائِماً

فَلَأَحمِلَنَّ لَها عَلى إِحساني

And if harm comes from him always,

Then I will reward it with my benefaction,

وَإِذا تَشاغَلَ بِالقَطيعَةِ في الهَوى

وَعَصَيتُهُ في حُكمِهِ وَعَصاني

And if he busies himself with separation in love,

And disobeyed him in his rule and my disobedience,

فَهُناكَ قُل لِلعاذِلينَ أَنا الَّذي

لَم أَهوَهُ وَهوَ الَّذي يَهواني

Then there, say to the blamers: I am he who,

Did not love him, and he is the one who makes me love,

اِرمِ الفُؤادَ بِكُلِّ سَهمٍ تُمضِهِ

لي أَضلُعٌ مِثلُ القِسِيِّ حَوانِ

Throw the heart with every arrow you loose,

I have ribs like the firm mountains,

بَيني وَبَينَكَ يا زَمانُ وَقائِعٌ

لا يَلتَقي أَبَداً بِها الجَمعانِ

Between me and you, O time, are events,

The two gatherings will never meet in them,

لا يَلحَني اللاحي فَإِنَّ أَحِبَّتي

أَفعالُها لا قَولُهُ يَلحاني

The critic does not make me slip, for my loved ones,

Their actions, not their words, inspire me,

بَينٌ عَلى قُربٍ كَما المَلوانِ

أَخَوانِ لَم يَجمَعهُما دارانِ

It is clear, despite nearness, like the boats,

Brothers whom two houses did not unite,

وَبِنَفسِيَ القَمَرُ الَّذي ما عَنهُ لي

عِوَضٌ فَلا يَتَعَرَّضِ القَمَرانِ

And by my soul is the moon, from which I have for it,

No compensation, so let the two moons not interfere,

غَضبانُ قَد أَغضَبتُ فيهِ لَوائِمي

لَم أَخلُ في الحالَينِ مِن غَضبانِ

Angry, I made those who blamed me angry,

I was not in the two states devoid of anger,

وَأَخذتُ عَنهُ لا عَلَيهِ وَمَذهَبي

أَن يُقبَلَ القَولانِ وَالوَجهانِ

And I took from him, not upon him, and my way,

Is that the two sayings and the two faces are accepted,

وَلَهُ إِذا عَرِفَ الهَوى وَجهانِ

وَلَهُ إِذا وَعَدَ الرِضا قولانِ

And for him if he knows passion, two faces,

And for him if he promises acceptance, two sayings,

إِن كُنتَ تُغضِبُ إِن رَضيتُ بِكَ الهَوى

فَاغضَب عَلى الحُسنِ الَّذي أَرضاني

If you anger when I am content in passion with you,

Then be angry at the beauty which made me content,

لَبَّيتُهُ لَمّا دَعاني بادِياً

وَكَأَنَّهُ ما كانَ قَطُّ دَعاني

I obeyed him when he called me, initiating,

As if he had never called me before,

فَاِنصُر أَخاكَ بِأَن تُوافِقَ رَأيَهُ

فيما يَراهُ فَذانِكَ الرَأيانِ

So help your brother by agreeing with his opinion,

In what he sees, for those are the two opinions,

ما نَصرُ مَن يَدعوكَ يَومَ كَريهَةٍ

بِمُجَرَّدِ التَجريدِ وَالإِثخانِ

It is not helping whom you call on a day of hatred,

With mere stripping and arming,

وَيَهيجُني الإِلفانِ إِن طارا وَإِن

وقعا على فننٍ من الأفنانِ

And they provoke me, companionship, if they fly and if,

They fall into arts of the arts,

إذ يَسجَعانِ فيُخرجانِ منَ الهوى

هَذي فِعالُ سَواجِعُ الكُهّانِ

Bringing out thereby the utterances of soothsayers,

Did he not heed my lineage to him? For it,

أَفَلا وَعى نَسَبي إِلَيهِ فَإِنَّهُ

نَسَبٌ بِهِ اِستَوجَبتُ أَن يُرعاني

Is a lineage by which I deserved that he shepherd me,

I am by that which my eyelids make flow a river,

أَنا بِالَّذي تُجري جُفوني نَهرُهُ

وَبِما أَراني الحُسنَ فَهوَ جِناني

And by what beauty makes me see, his gardens,

Or will it not be as gardens and their rivers,

أَولا يَكونُ كَما الرِياضُ وَنَهرُها

أَبَداً بِرَغمِ الجَدبِ مُعتَنِقانِ

Forever entwined despite drought?