يا عاذِلي أَقصِر فَكَم تَتعَبُ
في سَلوَتي تَطمَعُ يا أَشعَبُ
O my reproacher, desist—how much you weary yourself!
O my critic, be brief, for how much do you suffer
You hope I will forget him, O Ashʿab.
In my pleasure you aspire, O uncouth one
هَيهاتَ أَن أَسلُوَ عَن شادِنٍ
في حُبِّهِ العاتِبُ لا يَعتُبُ
Never could I forget a young gazelle,
Alas! I will not desist from one who brings me joy
for loving whom even the reproacher finds no fault.
The lover, though blamed, does not complain
وَجدي مُجِدٌّ في هَواهُ وَإِن
كانَ بِقَلبي حُبُّهُ يَلعَبُ
My passion is earnest in loving him, even though
My passion brings me glory, though
love for him plays with my heart.
His love but toys with my heart
بي مِن بَني التُركِ هَضيمُ الحَشا
أَحوَرُ مَعسولُ اللَمى أَشنَبُ
I am smitten with a Turk, slender of waist,
I'm of the valiant Turks, large of eyes,
dark-eyed, with honey-sweet dusky lips and gleaming teeth.
Curly-haired, honey-lipped, prim-nosed
يَبدو فَيَجلو قَمَراً وَجهُهُ
مِن صُدغِهِ في خَدِّهِ عَقرَبُ
He appears, and his face reveals a moon;
His face shines like the moon then glows
from his temple-lock, a scorpion lies upon his cheek.
A scorpion lurks on his cheek and temple
في سَرجِهِ يَنسابُ مِن فَرعِهِ
الثُعبانُ فَوقَ الحِقفِ إِذ يَركَبُ
In his saddle, from his tresses there glides
On his steed a snake winds round his branch
the serpent over the sand dune as he rides.
Crawling atop the crupper as he rides
عَن بَرَدٍ يَبسِمُ أَو لُؤلُؤٍ
وَعَن أَقاحٍ ثَغرُهُ الأَشنَبُ
Hailstones or pearls are bared in a smile,
His smile hints at pearls or camphor
and chrysanthemums, by his bright-toothed mouth.
His gap-toothed mouth, a new moon
حاجِبُهُ يُغنيهِ عَن قَوسِهِ
وَلَحظُهُ السَهمُ فَما يُحجَبُ
His eyebrow spares him the need for his bow;
His brow makes his bow redundant
and his glance is the arrow, so it is never blocked.
His glance, an undeflected arrow
وَقَدُّهُ أَطعَنُ مِن رُمحِهِ
وَلَحظُهُ مِن سَيفِهِ أَضرَبُ
And his figure is more piercing than his spear,
His height makes his lance more piercing
and his glance strikes harder than his sword.
His gaze, a slashing sword
هاروتُ في بابِلَ مِن نَفثِهِ
لِلسِّحرِ مِن أَجفانِهِ يَعجَبُ
Harut in Babylon, at his breathing forth
In Babylon, Harut by his breath
of magic from his eyelids, marvels.
Marvels magicians with his eyelids
كَأَنَّهُ وَالرَّاحُ في كَفِّهِ
شَمسُ الضُحى قابَلَها كَوكَبُ
It is as though he, with wine in his palm,
As if he, the zephyr in his palm
were the midmorning sun faced by a star.
The rising sun opposed by a planet
Sol 6.1