لِلَّهِ سَلمى حُبُّها ناصِبُ
وَأَنا لا زَوجٌ وَلا خاطِبُ
To God I offer my greeting, her love afflicts me,
And I am neither married nor engaged,
لَو كُنتُ ذا أَو ذاكَ يَومَ اللِوى
أَدّى إِلَيَّ الحَلَبَ الحالِبُ
Had I been one or the other on the day we met,
She who yearned would have come to me,
أَقولُ وَالعَينُ بِها عَبرَةٌ
وَبِاللِسانِ العَجَبُ العاجِبُ
I say, while my eyes overflow with tears,
And my tongue utters wondrous amazement:
يا وَيلَتى أَحرَزَها واهِبٌ
لا نالَ خَيراً بَعدَها واهِبُ
Oh, woe is me! A Giver has given her away.
No one after Him will give such a gift.
سيقَت إِلى الشامِ وَما ساقَها
إِلاَّ الشَقا وَالقَدَرُ الجالِبُ
She traveled to Syria, though nothing drove her there
Except misfortune and ineluctable destiny.
أَصبَحتُ قَد راحَ العِدى دونَها
وَرُحتُ فَرداً لَيسَ لي صاحِبُ
By dawn those I hate had taken her from me,
While I remained, forsaken, without a friend.
لا أَرفَعُ الطَرفَ إِلى زائِرٍ
كَأَنَّني غَضبانُ أَو عاتِبُ
I don’t lift my eyes to visitors,
As if I were angry at them or nursing a grudge.
يا كاهِنَ المِصرِ لَنا حاجَةٌ
فَاِنظُر لَنا هَل سَكَني آيِبُ
Oh, priest of Egypt, I have a need!
See if she who is coming is drawing near.
قَد شَفَّني الشَوقُ إِلى وَجهِها
وَشاقَني المَزهَرُ وَالقاصِبُ
Yearning for her face has cured me,
Yet the blossoms and the plucking hurt me.
بَل ذَكَّرَتني ريحُ رَيحانَةٍ
وَمُدهُنٌ جاءَ بِهِ عاقِبُ
The scent of sweet basil reminds me of her,
With perfume brought by the messenger.
مَجلِسُ لَهوٍ غابَ حُسّادُهُ
تَرنو إِلَيهِ الغادَةُ الكاعِبُ
A pleasant gathering from which her enviers vanished,
To which the slender sand grouse flock.
إِذ نَحنُ بِالرَوحاءِ نُسقي الهَوى
صِرفاً وَإِذ يَغبِطُنا اللاعِبُ
When we at al-Rawhā’ quenched our love’s thirst,
Even the jester envied us.
وَقَد أَرى سَلمى لَنا غايَةً
أَيّامَ يَجري بَينَنا الآدِبُ
I saw Salmā as our heart’s desire
In days when we were bound by proper behavior.
يا أَيُّها اللائِمُ في حُبِّها
أَما تَرى أَنّي بِها ناصِبُ
You who blame me for loving her,
Can’t you see it’s against her that I rebel?
سَلمى ثَقالُ الرِدفِ مَهضومَةٌ
يَأبى سِواها قَلبي الخالِبُ
Salmā of the well-rounded hips, my heart, that madman, wants no other,
It refuses all but her.
غَنّى بِها الراكِبُ في حُسنِها
وَمِثلُها غَنّى بِهِ الراكِبُ
The rider sang her praises for her beauty,
And for the likes of her riders sing.
لَيسَت مِنَ الإِنسِ وَإِن قُلتَها
جِنِّيَّةً قيلَ الفَتى كاذِبُ
She is no mortal woman, though you insist
She is a jinniyyah—the youth told a lie!
لا بَل هِيَ الشَمسُ أُتيحَت لَنا
وَسواسُ هَمٍّ زَعَمَ الناسِبُ
No, she is the sun made available to us
Despite the harping of the talebearer.
لَو خَرَجَت لِلناسِ في عيدِهِم
صَلّى لَها الأَمرَدُ وَالشائِبُ
Had she gone out to the people at their festival,
Young and old would have prayed to her.
تِلكَ المُنى لَو ساعَفَت دارُها
كانَت لِعَمروٍ هَمَّهُ عازِبُ
She is the wish—if her house were enlarged
It would befit ‘Amr, who long was a bachelor.
أَراجِعٌ لي بَعضُ ما قَد مَضى
بِالمَيثِ أَم هِجرانُها واجِبُ
Can I make up for some of what is past
With an oath? Or is her estrangement obligatory?
قَد كُنتُ لا أَلوي عَلى خُلَّةٍ
ضَنَّت وَلا يُحزِنُني الذاهِبُ
Once I would not grieve over a shiftless woman,
Nor did the departing sadden me.
ثُمَّ تَبَدَّلتُ عَلى حُبِّها
يا عَجَباً يَنقَلِبُ الذاهِبُ
But for love of her I changed;
How strange that one who goes can change!
وَصاحِبٍ لَيسَ يُصافي النَدى
يَسوسُ مُلكاً وَلَهُ حاجِبُ
A comrade who does not greet the dew,
Claims kingship though he has a doorkeeper.
كَالمَأجَنِ المَستورِ إِذ زُرتُهُ
في دارِ مُلكٍ لَبطُها راعِبُ
Like a covered pot when I visited him
In the abode of a king whose watchdog was a lion.
ظَلَّ يُناصي بُخلُهُ جودَهُ
في حاجَتي أَيُّهُما الغالِبُ
Stinginess and munificence struggled within him
When I had a request—which of them would prevail?
حَتّى إِذا طالَ تَناصيهِما
وَاِنهَزَمَ الجودُ لَهُ ثائِبُ
When their struggle had gone on too long
And munificence retreated, routed,
أَصبَحَ عَبّاساً لِزُوّارِهِ
يَبكي بِوَجهٍ حُزنُهُ دائِبُ
‘Abbās met his visitors at daybreak
Weeping, while perpetual grief clouded his face.
لَمّا رَأَيتُ البُخلَ رَيحانَهُ
وَالجودُ مِن مَجلِسِهِ غائِبُ
When I saw stinginess was his basil plant,
While munificence was absent from his gathering,
وَدَّعتُهُ إِنّي اِمرُؤٌ حازِمٌ
عَنهُ وَعَن أَمثالِهِ ناكِبُ
I bid him farewell saying, “I am a resolute man,
Turning away from him and the likes of him.”
أُصفي خَليلي ما دَحا ظِلَّهُ
وَدامَ لي مِن وُدِّهِ جانِبُ
I single out as my friend him whose shadow stretches wide,
And whose friendship remains faithful to me.
لا أَعبُدُ المالَ إِذا جاءَني
حَقُّ أَخٍ أَو جاءَني راغِبُ
I do not worship money when a brother’s due
Comes to me or a beggar comes.
وَلَستُ بِالحاسِبِ بَذلَ النَدى
إِنَّ البَخيلَ الكاتِبُ الحاسِبُ
Nor when bestowing bounty do I calculate—
For the miserly calculator is the scribe.
كَذاكَ يَلقاني وَرُبَّ اِمرِئٍ
لَيسَ لَهُ فَضلٌ وَلا طالِبُ
And so it is, by the Lord of a man
Who has no merit and seeks none!
