مِنَ أَبي هِشامٍ يا رِجالُ قَصيدَةٌ

تَبكي لَها الفِتيانُ وَالفَتَياتُ

A poem by Abi Hisham, O men

At which the youths and maidens weep

كُتِبَت بِما جَرَتِ الدُموعُ فَصُلِّيَت

أَبَداً عَلى مَن قالَها الصَلَواتُ

Written with what tears have flowed, so pray

Forever for he who spoke it, blessings be

مِن داخِلِ الشَوقِ الدَخيلِ إِلى الَّتي

فيها تَروحُ لِعَينِهِ العَبَراتُ

From deep within yearning interloper

To she in whom his eyes weep their tears

فَفُؤادُهُ طُرّاً يَعيشُ بِذِكرِها

وَيَموتُ حينَ تُطِلُّهُ الزَفَراتُ

So his heart is a bird living by her memory

And dying when sights of her are long denied

شَوقاً إِلى صَنَمِ العِراقِ فَعَينُهُ

قَد وُكِّلَت بِمَنامِها اليَقَظاتُ

Yearning for the idol of Iraq, so his eyes

Are appointed to keep vigil for her dreams

ما مِن جَميلَةِ مَعشَرٍ إِلّا لَها

أُختٌ تُعَدُّ وَما لَها أَخَواتُ

No beautiful one of a group but for her

A sister who counts, though she has no sisters

لا الشَمسُ تَقشِرُها وَلا قَمَرُ الدُجى

وَهُما اللَذانِ إِلَيهِما المَثُلاتُ

Not peeled by the sun, nor night's crescent moon

And these two are what examples are made of

قُل لِلغَواني إِن قُتِلتُ مِنَ الهَوى

فَلَكُنَّ مِن عَدوى دَمي بَرَآتُ

Tell the love smitten, if I'm killed by passion

Then let my blood be the cure for my love's woe

سُقمي عُبَيدَةُ إِن سَقُمتُ وَصِحَّتي

وَلَها تَطيبُ لِنَفسي الخَلَواتُ

My sickness is Ubaydah, if I fall ill, and my health

Hers are the solitudes that comfort my soul

يا عَبدَ أَقسِمُ بِالَّذي أَنا عَبدُهُ

وَلَهُ المَقامُ وَما حَوَت عَرَفاتُ

O Abd I swear by whom I worship

And His is the station and all Arafat contains

لا أَصطَفي أَبَداً سِواكِ خَليلَةً

فَثِقي بِذَلِكَ وَالكِرامُ ثِقاتُ

Never will I choose but you as the intimate

So trust in that, and nobles are trustworthy

وَلَوَ اَنَّني في التُربِ ثُمَّ دَعَوتِني

لَبَّيتُ صَوتَكِ وَالعِظامُ رُفاتُ

And if in soil I lie, then you call me

I'd answer your voice, though bones be all that remains

فَإِذا ذَكَرتُكِ يا عُبَيدَ تَقَطَّعَت

نَفسي عَلَيكِ وَعادَني حَسَراتُ

When I recall you, O Ubaydah, my soul is torn

And longing for you returns in waves

طوبى لِمَن يُمسي وَأَنتِ ضَجيعُهُ

قَد عُجِّلَت لِضَجيعِكِ الحَسَناتُ

Happy is he who sleeps with you in the night

Accelerated for your bedmate are good deeds