فأَحْيا فؤادى نَشْرُه قبل نَشْرِه

ولاحتْ عقودٌ منه لي ورياضُ

Its fragrance revived my heart before it was unfolded.

Necklaces gleamed from it for me—and gardens.

كأن العيون النُّجْل منه وقد حكى ال

سوادَ سوادٌ والبياضَ بياض

As though the wide, dark eyes within it, having mirrored the

black, were blackness itself—and the white, whiteness itself.

حدائقُ زهرٍ يجتنى السمعُ زَهْرَها

وبحرُ مَعانٍ بالعقول يُخاض

Gardens of flowers, whose blossoms the ear may gather,

and a sea of meanings through which minds may wade.

وجدتُ لقلبي منه أُنْسا وراحة

تذلّ به أحزانه وتُراض

In it I found intimacy and rest for my heart,

by which its sorrows are humbled and appeased.

كأن فؤادي كان قبل وجوده

جَناحٌ بأحداثِ الزمان يهاض

As though my heart, before it came into being,

were a wing battered by the calamities of time.

صحائفُ أشواق إليك كثيرة

طِوال إذا عَدَّدْتُهن عِراض

The pages of my longings for you are many:

long when counted, and broad.

تُرَى تشتفى بالقرب منا ومنكمُ

قلوبٌ بأَدواءِ الفراق مِراض

Do you think that, through nearness between us and you,

hearts sick with the maladies of separation will be healed?

توالى عليها البينُ حتى بدتْ له

كُلومٌ على أرجائها وعِضاض

Separation struck it blow after blow, until there appeared upon it

wounds around its reaches, and bite-marks.

فأيُّ مِنةِ قَلَّد وأيّ سرور جَدّد

وأي لوعة بَرّد وأي شوق

What a favor it conferred, what joy it renewed,

what anguish it cooled, what longing it

أخمد وأي نعمة أورد

فللهِ وقتٌ جاء فيه كأنما

quenched, and what blessing it bestowed!

What a time it was, by God, when it came—as though

أُعيدَ به عَصْرُ الشَّبيبِة من عُمْري

عشيةَ مالي غيرَ دمعي وسيلةٌ

the season of youth in my life had been restored—

that evening when I had no means but my tears

تُفيد ودمعُ العين أَشْفَى لمن أَشْفَى

وما طائرٌ قصَّ الزمانُ جناحهَ

to avail me; tears best heal one whom passion has brought to the brink.

No bird whose wing time has clipped,

وأَعْدَمَه وكْرا وأَفْقده إلْفا

تَذكَّر زُغْبا بينَ أَكْناف بانةٍ

depriving it of a nest and robbing it of its mate—

remembering downy chicks among the recesses of a ban tree,

خَوافِى الخَوافي ما يَطِرْنَ بها ضعفا

إذا التحفَ الظّلْماءَ ناجَى هُمومَه

their covert feathers still hidden, too weak to fly with them—

when darkness enfolds it, confiding its cares

بترجيعِ نَوْحٍ كاد من رقةٍ يَخْفَي

بأشوقَ مني مذ أطاحَتْ بك النَّوى

in a repeated mourning cry so gentle it is nearly inaudible,

is more yearning than I, since distance swept you away.

هوائيةً مائيةً تَسبِق الطَّرْفا

تولَّتْ وفيها منك ما لو أَقِيسه

A thing of air and water, it outstrips the eye.

It passed on, bearing something of you that, were I to compare it

بما هي فيه كان من فَضْلِه أَوْفَى

with what contained it, would prove richer in excellence.