لَو أَنَّني سَمَّيتُ طَيفَكَ صادِقاً

لَدَعَوتُهُ غَضبانَ أَو عَتّابا

If I had called your phantom truthful

I would have named it angry or blaming

قالَ الخَيالُ كَذَبتَ لَستُ بِطارِقٍ

لَيلاً وَلَم أَكُ زائِراً مُنتابا

The imagination said you have lied, I'm no visitor

By night, nor an oft returning guest

فَأَجَبتُهُ كَم مِن كِتابٍ زائِرٍ

فَاِهتاجَ يَحلِفُ ما بَعَثتُ كِتابا

So I told it, how many a book has come visiting

Then it was disturbed, swearing I had sent no letter

لا تُثبِتُ الأَقلامُ زَلَّةَ راقِدٍ

إِن كُنتَ بِتَّ بِحُلمِهِ مُرتابا

Pens do not record a sleeper's stumble

If with his dream you were suspicious

لَم يَعفُ رَبُّكَ عَن مُصِرٍّ مارِدٍ

لَكِن تَجاوَزَ عَن مُسيءٍ تابا

Your Lord did not pardon an insistent rebel

Rather He forgave a wrongdoer who repented