مَرِضتُ لِطيفٍ كانَ مِنهُ صُدود

عَسى طَيفُ سُعدى أَن يَعودَ يَعودُ

I fell ill from the absence of a beloved who was distant

Perhaps the phantom of my bliss will return and recur

وَكَيفَ يَعودُ الطَّيفُ من بِفُؤادِهِ

وفودٌ لِنيرانِ الهَوى وَوَقودُ

And how can the phantom return from his heart

While it is fuel for the fires of passion and tinder

وَبِالعَلَمِ الفردِ الَّذي تعلمانه

ظِباءٌ حَمَتها بِالظُباةِ أُسودُ

By the unique, unmatched lesson we both learned

Gazelles took shelter among the black gazelles

وَبِيضٌ لَها البِيضُ الرِقاقُ لَواحِظٌ

وَسُمرٌ لَها السُمرُ الرِشاقُ قُدودُ

And whites belong to her, the thin, delicate whites

And chestnuts belong to her, the smooth, svelte chestnuts

لَقَد بَعُدَت مِنّي زَرودٌ وَأَينَ مِن

كَئيبٍ بِأَبوابِ البَريدِ زَرودُ

My visitor has been long absent, yet how far

Is the sullen lover from the gates of correspondence

وَبي غادَةٌ جيداءُ لمياءُ لَدنَةُ ال

مَعاطِفِ غَرثاءُ المَراشِفِ رُودُ

And I have a slender-waisted, smooth-necked doe

Her gowns are ragged, her blankets are coarse

مُهَفهَفَةٌ رَيّا المُخَلخَلِ فَعمَةُ ال

مُؤَزَّرِ غَرثى الخَصرِ فَهوَ جَهيدُ

Disheveled, tousled, her waist wrap comes undone

In her cheeks are wine and embers, lacking stillness or slumber

بِوَجنَتِها خمرٌ وَجمرٌ فَما لذا

جُمودٌ وَلا في حَرِّ ذاكَ خُمودُ

When she walks, flowing in the dust behind her

Are black tresses from those braids, dark black

إِذا ما مَشَت يَنسابُ في التُربِ خَلفَها

أَساوِدُ من تِلكَ الضَفائِرِ سُودُ

What ruddy gazelle sings more sweetly

To make you forget she can barely bleat

وَما ظَبيَةٌ أَدماءُ تَزجي شُوَيدِناً

أَغَنَّ فَعَنهُ ما تَكادُ تَحيدُ

Fate cast him a barbed arrow

So blood flowed freely from his veins

أَتاحَت لَهُ الأَقدارُ سَهماً مُقَذَّذاً

فَلِلنَصلِ مِن حَبلِ الوَريدِ ورودُ

She passed by in fear and bereavement while his body

Oozed with spilled blood

فَمَرَّت عَلى خَوفٍ وَثُكلٍ وَجيدُهُ

عَقيرٌ بِمَسفوحِ الدِّماءِ يَجودُ

More agonized than I on the day of concealment, when

The caravan said "Where are you headed?"

بِأَوجَعَ مِنّي يَوم كاظِمَةٍ وَقَد

ظعنتُ فَقالَ الرَكبُ أَينَ تُريدُ

If I was asked what I wished for when

Old age had left me frail, I'd say: "To return!"

فَلَو قيلَ لي ماذا تَمَنّى وَقَد خَدَت

بي العرمِسُ الوَجناءُ قُلتُ أَعودُ