نَبا بِكَ خَلفَ الظاعِنينَ وِسادُ
وَما لَكَ إِلّا راحَتَيكَ عِمادُ
The scoundrels reproach you while the pillow is your only support,
Your hands are your limit every night,
لِحَدِّكَ مِن كَفَّيكَ في كُلِّ لَيلَةٍ
إِلى أَن تَرى وَجهَ الصَباحِ وِسادُ
Until you see the face of dawn as a pillow.
As if, when yearning creeps upon you,
كَأَنَّكَ لِلشَوقِ الغَريبِ إِذا سَرى
مِنَ الوَجهِ مَشدودٌ عَلَيكَ صِفادُ
Chains are drawn tight upon your face.
You spend the night wakeful, hoping for its passing,
تَبيتُ تُراعي اللَيلَ تَرجو نَفادَهُ
وَلَيسَ لِلَيلِ العاشِقينَ نَفادُ
Yet for lovers' nights there is no end.
You toss and turn in a darkness as though
تَقَلَّبُ في داجٍ كَأَنَّ سَوادَهُ
إِذا اِنجابَ مَوصولٌ إِلَيهِ سَوادُ
Its blackness is connected to you, blackness.
Weariness has refused to close its tired eyes
أَبى لَكَ إِغماضُ الخَلِيِّ جُفونَهُ
عَلى النَومِ عَينٌ صَبَّةٌ وَفُؤادُ
To sleep, intent and heart are wakeful.
The struggle of the soul in what it pursued
وَطولُ جِهادِ النَفسِ فيما تَتَبَّعَت
وَإِدراكُكَ النَفسَ اللَجوجَ جِهادُ
And your comprehension of the stubborn soul a struggle.
The great distance from a goal, if you travelled it
وَبُعدُ المَدى مِن غايَةٍ لَو جَرَيتَها
إِلى هَجرِ سُعدى ما هَجاكَ بِعادُ
To your love's estrangement, separation would not take you far.
Yet my mind, gathering after gathering, counsels you
وَلَكِنَّ عَقلي مَجلِساً بَعدَ مَجلِسٍ
لِنَفسِكَ مِمّا لا تَنالُ فَسادُ
Against what would not bring you ruin.
Will you not now heal yourself, find solace,
أَفالآنَ تَستَشفي طَبيبَكَ سَلوَةً
وَقَد ظَعَنَت سُعدى وَقَلبُكَ رادُ
Since she is lost to you and your heart distraught?
I see the soul has been miserly toward you in attaining it
أَرى النَفسَ قَد ضَنَّت عَلَيكَ بِنَيلِها
وَضَنَّت عَلَيها بِالنَوالِ سُعادُ
And miserly toward itself in happy fortune.
What is it to you if that does not give you respite?
وَما بِكَ إِن لَم تُعطَ تِلكَ جَلادَةٌ
وَما مِنكَ إِن لَم تَلقَ تِلكَ رُقادُ
What is it of you if that does not bring you rest?
A gazelle enticed me and I desired to hunt it,
لَقَد صادَني ريمٌ أَرَدتُ اِصطِيادَهُ
وَما كُنتُ لَولا ما أَرَدتُ أُصادُ
Yet had I not so desired, I'd not have hunted.
When the breeze of love lifts from you its care,
إِذا طارِفُ الحُبِّ اِنجَلى عَنكَ هَمُّهُ
ثَناهُ مِنَ الحُبِّ الدَخيلِ تَلادُ
New love will divert it.
It has been candid about what a taunt whispers,
لَقَد صَرَّحَت عَمّا تُجَمجِمُ طَعنَةٌ
شَجيتَ بِها حَتّى ظَلِلتَ تُعادُ
You are wounded until you have become an echo.
Passions have pressed upon you, so you weep more,
تَداعَت لَكَ الأَهواءُ فَاِزدَدتَ عَبرَةً
وَلِلدَمعِ مِن بَينَ الحَبيبِ مِدادُ
And for tears, the beloved is their ink.
Say to a friend who thinks ill, good counsel,
فَقُل في صَديقٍ يَحسَبُ الغِيَّ رَشدَةً
وَفي بَعضَ حَوزاتِ الخَليلِ رَشادُ
And in some of the loved one's precincts, guidance.
He delays what would give you comfort,
يُؤَخِّرُ ما تَعجيلُهُ لَكَ راحَةٌ
فَتَحيا كُروبٌ كُلُّهُنَّ شِدادُ
So you live - all of it harshness.
If I say, "I have met with misfortune
إِذا قُلتُ إِنّي قَد لَقيتُ شَقاوَةً
بِحُبِّكَ قالَت لي وَسَوفَ تُزادُ
In your love," she says, "And more will yet come."
For us are hardness, gentle words,
لَنا غِلظَةٌ مِنها وَلينُ مَقالَةٍ
وَلَوعَةُ هَجرٍ مَرَّةً وَوِدادُ
The agony of estrangement, bitterness and affection.
By God, I know not, though each is a tribulation,
فَوَاللَهِ ما أَدري وَكُلٌّ مُصيبَةٌ
بِأَيِّ مَكيداتِ النِساءِ نُكادُ
By what wiles of women we are undone.
A gazelle enticed me and I desired to hunt it,
لَقَد صادَني ريمٌ أَرَدتُ اِصطِيادَهُ
وَما كُنتُ لَولا ما أَرَدتُ أُصادُ
Yet had I not so desired, I'd not have hunted.
The fair faced - his share of you is kinship
جَميلُ المُحَيّا حَظُّهُ مِنكَ نِسبَةٌ
وَحَظُّكَ مِنهُ لَوعَةٌ وَسُهادُ
While your share of him agony and ardour.
When you find comfort in the imminent separation
إِذا أَنِسَت مِن عاجِلِ البَينِ
رَجاءً بِأُختِ الناسِ حينَ تُذادُ
Hoping for mankind's sister when she is gone,
Deceitful promises are like her visitations
غُرورُ مَواعيدٍ كَأَنَّ جَداءَها
جَدا بارِقاتٍ مُزنُهُنَّ جَمادُ
As if her coming were shooting stars.
You have never been favoured by fate and beyond it
عَلى الدَهرِ ما مَنَّتكَ سُعدى وَدونَهُ
لِأُمِّ المَنايا مُبتَدى وَمَعادُ
To the mother of calamity, beginning and return.
Will you not, if fate does not give you its head,
فَهَل أَنتَ إِن لَم يُعطِكَ الدَهرُ رَأسَهُ
مُذَلِّلُهُ حَتّى تَراهُ يُقادُ
Humble it until you see it led?
Else leave off your youth and healing is
وَإِلّا فَدَع عَنكَ الصَبابَةَ فَالشِفا
عَلى إِثرِ مَن تَهوى وَفيكَ مِدادُ
In the wake of she you love, while in you is ink.
