لَنا بَرامَةَ أَوطانٌ وَأَوطارُ

وَمِن لَيالي هَوى أَسماءَ أَسمارُ

In Barāma we have homelands and longings,

and from nights of love for Asmāʾ, tales for the night.

أُسِرُّ وَجداً وَلَكِنّي أُصِرُّ عَلى ال

بُكا وَلِلصَّبِّ إِسرارٌ وَإِصرارُ

I hide my passion, yet I persist in—

weeping; the ardent lover has secrets and persistence.

حَمامَ بانِ الحِمَى هَيَّجتَ لي شَجَناً

وَبِالنَقا تُثمِرُ الأَشجان أَشجارُ

O dove of the bān trees in the protected pasture, you have stirred grief in me,

and at al-Naqā, sorrows bear fruit as trees.

بِهِ القَماري عَلى الباناتِ صادِحَةٌ

وَفي القِبابِ عَلى الأَغصانِ أَقمارُ

There, the turtledoves sing upon the bān trees,

and within the domes, moons rest upon the branches.

لِيَهنِ سُكانَ نَجدٍ أَنَّ مَسكَنَهُم

قَلبي وَإِن نَزَحَت ما بَينَنا الدارُ

Blest be the people of Najd, for their dwelling is

my heart, though the abode between us lies far away.

أَستَودِعُ اللَهَ جيراناً كَلَفتُ بِهِم

جاروا وَعِندَهُمُ لا يحفَظُ الجارُ

I commend to God’s care neighbors with whom I became enthralled;

they wronged me, and in their keeping no neighbor is protected.

ثَلاثَةٌ حينَ أَلقى مَن كَلِفتُ بِهِ

تَعتادني لَيسَ لي مِنهُنّ أَنصارُ

Three things, whenever I meet the one who enthralls me,

beset me, and I have no champions against them:

مِن ناظِرَيهِ وَمِن دَمعي وَمِن نَفسي

سَيفٌ وَسَيلٌ وَنارٌ دونَها النارُ

from his eyes, from my tears, and from my own soul—

a sword, a flood, and a fire before which every fire pales.

نَشوانُ ريقَتُهُ خَمرٌ وَنَكهَتُهُ

عِطرٌ فَفي فيهِ خَمّار وَعَطّارُ

Drunken, his saliva is wine, and his breath—

perfume: within his mouth dwell a vintner and a perfumer.

كَأَنَّهُ صَنَمٌ تَهفو لِفِتنَتِهِ

مِنّا قُلوبٌ وَأَسماعٌ وَأَبصارُ

As though he were an idol, toward whose enchantment flutter

our hearts, our hearing, and our eyes.

مِن قَبلِهِ ما رَأَت عَينايَ شَمس ضُحىً

تَبدو وَمطلعِها جَيبٌ وَأَزرارُ

Before him, my eyes had never seen a morning sun

appear with a neckline and buttons for its rising-place.

يا قاتِلي بِضَعيفِ اللَحظِ فاتِرِهِ

آهاً لَهُ مِن ضَعيفٍ وَهوَ جَبّارُ

O you who slay me with your feeble, languid glance—

ah, what a feeble thing it is, and yet a conqueror!

أَرى جُفونَكَ ما تَنفَكُّ قاتِلَةً

فَهَل لَهُنَّ عَلَينا في الهَوى ثارُ

I see your eyelids never cease their killing;

do they have some blood-feud with us in love?

هَبني الكَرى لِيَزورَ الطَيفُ حِلفَ ضَنىً

فَما عَلَيكَ إِذا ما زارَ أوزارُ

Grant me sleep, that your phantom may visit one sworn to wasting;

what burden would fall upon you if it came to visit?