يا لَيتَما خُلِقَ الزَمانُ أَصيلا

إِنّي أَراهُ كَالشَبابِ جَميلا

O would that time were shaped as youth, so fair,

Oh, would that Time had been created as an eternal twilight,

To mine eyes now it seems but empty air,

For I see in it the beautiful charm of youth.

وَلّى فَوَدَّعَتِ السَماءَ بَهائَها

مِن بَعدِهِ وَهَوى النَهارُ عَليلا

The sky has shed its luster since gone by

It turned away, and the sky bade farewell to its splendor,

And daylight wanes, infirm and bleak, awry,

In its wake, the day collapsed, sickly and pale.

جَنَحَت ذُكاءُ الغُروبِ كَأَنَّما

تَبغي رُقاداً أَو تُريدُ مَقيلا

The eve’s bright wings fold in as if to keep

The sun inclined toward the west, as though

Repose or homebound flight when shadows creep,

Seeking slumber or desiring a moment of rest.

وَتَناثَرَت قِطَعُ السَحابِ كَأَنَّها

الجَيشُ اللَهامُ إِذا اِنثَنى مَفلولا

The clouds like remnants of a vanquished horde

And fragments of cloud scattered, resembling

In disarray when turned and put to sword.

A vast army retreating in broken defeat.

هَذا وَقَد بَسَطَ السُكونُ جَناحَهُ

وَاللَيلُ أَمسى سِترُهُ مَسدولا

While silence spreads its wings in dark repose

Now silence has spread wide its wing,

And night lets down its mantle, in it doze

And the night has let fall its heavy curtain.

قَد باتَ كُلُّ مُسَهَّدٍ طَوعَ جَناحَهُ

وَاللَيلُ أَمسى سِترُهُ مَسدولا

All couched, to slumber yielding wing and breast,

Every sleepless soul has submitted to its embrace,

While night now dons its starry raiment dressed,

And the night has let fall its heavy curtain.

إِلّا مُهَفهَفَةٌ بِها نَزَلَ الهَوى

ضَيفاً وَلَكِن لا يُريدُ رَحيلا

Save one whose heart is restless, consumed with fire,

Except for a slender maiden, in whom love has alighted

A guest, but with no will to now retire.

As a guest, yet one who desires no departure.

غَيداءُ قَد وَصَلَت ذَوائِبُها الثَرى

إِنّي لَأَحسُدُ ذَلِكَ المَوصولا

Her plaits have brushed the earth; how I envy

A graceful beauty, whose long tresses reach the earth;

Those tresses now the earth and dust ally!

I truly envy that ground which they touch.

تَحكي المُدامَةَ رِقَّةً وَقَساوَةً

تَحكي المَهاةَ لَواحِظاً وَتَليلا

Her cheeks reveal a soft, endearing way,

She resembles wine in both delicacy and cruelty,

And power to kill with flutter of her eye.

And mirrors the wild oryx in her glance and slender neck.

ماءُ الحَياءِ يَجولُ في وَجَناتِها

فَكَأَنَّ في تِلكَ الكُؤوسِ شَمولا

A blush like wine stains modesty’s own bower,

The flush of modesty flows through her cheeks,

As if those cups still ferment, charm and sour.

As though those vessels held fine, chilled wine.

وَالخَدُّ أَبهَجُ ما يَكونُ مَورِداً

وَالطَرفُ أَفتَنُ ا يَكونُ كَحيلا

More fair her cheek than any place of cheer,

Her cheek is the most delightful of springs,

More deadly her glance than kohl or mascar.

And her eye is most enchanting when darkened with kohl.

نَظَرَت وَرُبَّ مَنِيَّةٍ مِن نَظرَةٍ

قَد كانَ عَنها رَبُّها مَشغولا

One look and many a soul she will waylay

She glanced—and how often does death arise from a single glance,

While God from her was utterly away.

Of which its victim was wholly unaware.

فَهَوَت وَرُبَّ هَوىً تُنالُ بِهِ المُنى

وَهَوىً يُنالُ بِهِ الحِمامُ نَبيلا

Thus falling into love’s calamitous sea,

She fell in love; and there is love through which wishes are granted,

The noble falcon, and such likes as he.

And love through which a noble death is gained.

وَالحُبُّ مَصدَرُهُ العُيونُ وَرُبَّما

تَخِذَ السَماعَ إِلى القُلوبِ سَبيلا

For loving eyes and ears both intercede,

Love’s source is often the eyes, yet sometimes

To hearts the ears will thus find ready lead.

It takes the path of hearing to reach the heart.

فَإِذا عَشِقتَ فَلا تَلُم أَحداً سِوى

عَينَيكَ إِنَّ العُيونِ قَتولا

In loving, blame no one but your eyes,

So if you fall in love, blame no one but

For eyes, not hearts, are murderous when wise.

Your own eyes, for eyes are truly lethal.

وَدَّت وَقَد نالَ الذُبولُ خُدودَها

لَو أَنَّ في الشَوقِ المُقيمِ ذُبولا

She bid farewell, her cheeks now lined with care,

She wished, as pale languor overtook her cheeks,

Would that longing kept her beauty fair!

That her abiding longing might also fade away.

وَإِذا تَمَلَّكَتِ الصَبابَةُ في اِمرِئٍ

لَم يُجدِ عَذلُ العاذِلينَ فَتيلا

When youth possesses one, no redress avails,

And when deep passion takes possession of a soul,

No critics barbs make flush of new love pale.

The scolding of critics is of no avail.

سَمِعَت دَوِيّاً في الظَلامِ فَهَروَلَت

مَذعورَةً بَعدَ الوُقوفِ طَويلا

A sound in darkness made her start and race

She heard a resounding noise in the dark and rushed forward,

In panic off, her standing place displace.

Terrified, after having stood still for so long.

وَأَنينُ مُحتَضِرٍ يَقولُ قَتَلتَني

ثَكَلَتكَ أُمُّكَ لَم أَنَل مَأمولا

A dying moan: “You’ve killed me,” makes her fleet,

And the groan of a dying man saying: "You have slain me,"

“Would your mother mourn you, unfinished sweet!”

"May your mother mourn you! I did not attain my desire."

تَعدو وَتَجذُبُها رَوادِفُها إِلّى

خَلفٍ فَتُجهَدُ خَصرَها المَتبولا

Her hips tug at her skirts as she propels

She runs, while the weight of her hips pulls her

Her body forth, her tired waist rebels.

Backwards, exhausting her slender, fragile waist.

فَكَأَنَّ في ذاكَ الوِشاحِ مُتَيَّماً

وَكَأَنَّ في ذاكَ الإِزارِ عَذولا

As if her mantle hides a cheetah’s spots,

As if within that sash there was an enthralled lover,

Her pants conceal a deer’s defined haunch knots.

And within that skirt, a censor holding her back.

تَخِذَت مِنَ اللَيلِ المُخَيِّمِ صاحِباً

وَمِنَ الأَنينِ إِلى الأَنينِ دَليلا

The friend of blackest night she’s made her guide,

She took the enveloping night as her companion,

And moaning dirges to moaning confide.

And followed the trail from groan to groan.

تَبغي الوُقوفَ عَلى حَقيقَةِ أَمرِهِ

تَبغي حَليلاً لا تَراهُ جَليلا

She seeks to know the truth, clarify

Seeking to discover the truth of his plight,

This vague enigma, find what hidden lie.

Seeking a beloved, though she could not see him clearly.

وَتُديرُ في تِلكَ البَنانِ مُسَدَّساً

تَرَكَت قَذائِفُهُ السِهامَ فُضولا

She cocks her pistol ‘mid those silent towers,

Turning in her delicate fingertips a revolver,

Its shots for arrows leaving bloodied flowers.

Whose bullets render arrows obsolete.

في طَرفِهِ كَمَنَ الهَلاكُ فَلَو رَنا

طَرفُ الزَمانِ إِلَيهِ عادَ كَليلا

Death lingers in his eyes, a fatal threat,

Destruction lies hidden in its gaze; were it to look

His aging gaze, though dim, can kill her yet.

At Time itself, Time’s eye would turn away weary.

قَد أَسكَنَت أُكُرُ الرَصاصِ جُفونَهُ

فَكَأَنَّ أَكباداً تُجِنُّ غَليلا

His eyelids bullets from her gun have stilled

Lead spheres have made its eyelids their home,

As if his heart with heated lead were filled.

Like hearts concealing a burning, unquenchable thirst.

يَحمي الضَعيفَ مِنَ القَوِيِّ وَرُبَّما

قَتَلَ الجَبانُ بِهِ الفَتى البَهلولا

It shields the meek against the tyrant’s rule,

It protects the weak from the strong, yet often

The coward’s victory o’er the daring fool.

The coward uses it to slay the noble hero.

وَمِنَ الأَسى لَم تَعرِفِ الحَسناءُ هَل

قَطَعَت ذِراعاً في السَرى أَم ميلا

In grief, the girl can’t tell what she has ended -

Out of distress, the beauty knew not whether

An arm? A mile? So far her shots have wended!

She had traversed a mere cubit in the night, or a mile.

حَتّى إِذا رَأَتِ المُرادَ وَما رَأَت

إِلّا خَيالاً عَلِقَت بِهِ المَقتولا

Until she sees the corpse her shots reveal

Until she spotted her target—yet she saw

No more than a phantom her bullets seal.

Nothing but a shadow looming over the slain.

حَسِبتَهُ قاتِلَ مَن تُحِبُّ وَأَيقَنَت

أَنَّ الَّذي عَلِقَت بِهِ المَقتولا

You killed my love! she knows with certainty,

She deemed him the killer of her beloved, and was certain

Though it’s the murdered corpse she now must see.

That the figure beneath him was her murdered love.

فَدَنَت وَأَطلَقَتِ المُسَدَّسِ نَحوَ مَن

بَصُرَت بِهِ عَرَضاً فَخَرَّ قَتيلا

She nears and fires point blank at his form,

She drew near and fired the weapon at the one

A body crumples that was straight and warm.

She had glimpsed in the dark, and he fell down dead.

صَرَعَت فَتىً صَرَعَ الرَقيبَ وَجَندَلَت

أَسَداً يَخُرُّ لَهُ الهِزبَرُ ذَليلا

Like the full moon his beauty had its phases,

She struck down the youth who had just slain the spy,

His nobility sweeter than spring gazes,

A lion before whom other lions would bow in submission.

كَالبَدرِ حُسناً كَالغَمامِ سَماحَةً

كَالغُصنِ غَضّاً كَالحُسامِ صَقيلا

His freshness greener than the sapling bud,

Like the full moon in beauty, like the rain-clouds in generosity,

His sword sharp as his valor, and blood.

Like a tender branch in youth, like a polished sword in steel.

ثَبَتَ الجِنانِ قَوِيُّهُ عَفَّ الإِزا

رِ نَقِيُّهُ ما خانَ قَطُّ خَليلا

A lionheart whose being duty braces,

Steadfast of heart and strong, of virtuous conduct,

True friend who never once his kin betrays.

Pure of spirit, never betraying a friend.

هَذا هُوَ الدَنِفُ الَّذي أَرضى الهَوى

فيها وَأَغضَبَ كاشِحاً وَعَذولا

He who pleased her love, though others abhorred,

This was the lovesick soul who satisfied Love's demands,

This was the knight her shots had lately gored.

For her sake, while angering the envious and the critic.

ما نالَ بَعدَ جِهادِهِ إِلّا الرَدى

وَالبَدرُ يُكسِبُهُ المَسيرُ أُفولا

His struggle gained him but the lowest place,

After all his struggle, he gained nothing but death;

The moon must cede the sky as night winds race.

Just as the full moon’s journey earns it only a setting.

لَم تَعلَمِ الحَسناءُ أَنَّ قَطيلَها

مَن لَم تَرَ أَبَداً سِواهُ جَميلا

The girl knew not her love she had killed

The beauty did not know that the man she slew

He whom she never saw but to give her thrill.

Was the one beside whom she found no other fair.

عَرَفَت وَذَلِكَ عِندَما طَلَعَ الضُحى

وَرَأَت عَياناً نَعشَهُ مَحمولا

Only at dawn, the funeral bier in view,

She realized—but only when the morning sun arose,

Did she see whom her random shot had slew.

And she saw his coffin being borne away.

لَم يُبلِغوا القَبرَ المُعَدَّ لِدَفنِهِ

إِلّا وَقَد بَلَغَ الرَدى العُطبولا

Not even to his readied grave was he brought

They had not yet reached the grave prepared for him,

Ere her own bitter bullet had found its slot.

Before death also claimed the graceful maiden.

يا صاحِبي إِن جُزتَ في قَبرَيهِما

فَاِتلُ السَلامَ عَلَيهِما تَرتيلا

My friend, if you visit where both lovers lie,

O my friend, if you should pass by their two graves,

Recite a prayer soft o'er them with a sigh.

Recite a prayer of peace upon them with reverence.

مِن شاعِرٍ ما حَرَّكَ الغُصنُ الهَوا

إِلا تَذَكَّرَ وَردَةً وَأَميلا

From a bard who stirs no branch with song of love

From a poet who, whenever the breeze stirs the bough,

Save he recall a vine, some cooing dove!

Remembers a rose, and bends in sorrow.