ما بال قلبك يرعوي ويعود — Aloshari

What ails your heart, that it desists, then returns?

And your longing wanes at times, then grows?

And you moan like a bereaved mother when love is mentioned,

And your heart's core is aflame with anguish.

And I see your tears like rains when they pour;

The hard rock ever softens at their pouring.

And I see you in the robes of sickness, as though

Mantles of passion had been spread over you.

And I see you drunk at heart, distraught with love,

You dally, while your reason is lost in love.

You love to drink with the cherished women, enthralled

By their pledges, though they keep none.

How often you stand among them, how many an hour

You spend, while the slanderers' eyes bear witness!

Does passion hold you to a pledge you have made,

Or are bonds to passion held in your keeping?

Leave yearning aside; I am your sincere adviser,

And restore a body now resembling a twig.

And present your excuse to Abd Allah, if you have

Made an allusion—for the freeborn, noble man returns.

A patron—when you meet him and behold him,

You know for certain that his like is nowhere found.

A king over the masters of perfection—for they all

Are slaves to the scion of noble men.

He is this age's pride, the pearl in its crown,

And its pillar, and its banner bound fast.

An ocean—when seekers of bounty stand at his door

One day, his waters overflow and swell.

He comes from the summit of glory and honor that

His fathers and forefathers attained.

So upon you, Abd Allah, be the finest greeting,

Unbroken, never ending or fading away.

Sweet it is, and sweet to hear, for its passages

Are pearls, and those lines are necklaces.

I have not paid your due in verse; indeed, I

Have fallen short, and the faithless mind strays.

And we have grievances against you; attend to them,

And be just, for you are a lord and an illustrious man.

What harm would your excellence suffer if you praised an honored man,

While his praise truly returns to you?

Yet you repay precious pearls with something else,

In anger at us, though the place is distant.

Is an eloquent speaker, O son of the noblest, censured

Unjustly, while a dullard is praised among men?

Far be it from your honor that I be wronged; my bond

To your patronage is fastened by a taut cord.

So upon you be His peace, from the Source of Peace,

As long as a branch sways or a twig moves,

Forever—and may glad tidings gladden you eternally

At the lifting of an injustice an envious man committed.

Your Lord has turned his plot back upon his own throat;

So praise your God: He is worthy of praise.