بكاظمة قفوا وسلوا — Alshaghouri — Saqi

At Kazimah, stop and ask:
Has the tribe stayed, or have they departed?
If they have departed, from my heart
my love for them does not depart.
My heart is absorbed in it,
and my temple hair is aflame with it.
And never do I begrudge
pouring out tears that stream.
They have succeeded in killing me
by their parting, yet never united with me.
I wept at their dwelling until
the ruined camp wept out of pity for me.
For in my heart, because of their parting,
are wounds that do not heal.
And many a serpent is mine; from its heat
the camels groan.
They refused to pity my plight,
so all my expedients have failed me.
And the curves of the ribs
enclose the fire's blaze.
If they persist in forsaking me,
then there is neither plain nor mountain.
They went far away; in my heart remained
love, longing, and dread.
I was told, 'Be patient'; I said, 'I fear
that death will not wait.'
And whatever secret I safeguard
is laid bare by my eyelids.
And lovely gazelles—about
any but them, love poetry is unseemly.
As they walked before us, they swayed
their figures, leaving the spears bewildered.
And the swords of India never did
what the eyes have done to us.
And they were spared the need for kohl
by the natural darkness of their eyelid rims.
So the apples, before those
unveiled cheeks, feel shame.
Indeed, their dark-tinged lips—
from them honey is gathered.
Lips—fortunate is he whom
their kisses have greeted, mouth to mouth.
Had the reprovers seen
their charms, they would not have reproached.
For I am diverted from every concern among
the children of this world by my concern with them.
Wine mingles with their saliva;
from it come the second draught and the first.
For in their glances is drunkenness,
and in the curves of their bodies, intoxication.