لَيتَ الَّذي خَلَقَ الحَياةَ جَميلَةً
لَم يُسدِلِ الأَستارَ فَوقَ جَمالِها
Would that He who created life beautiful
Had not let down curtains over its beauty.
بَل يَيتَهُ سَلَبَ العُقولَ فَلَم يَكُن
أَحَدٌ يُعَلِّلُ نَفسَهُ بِمَنالِها
Or would that He had stripped away our reason, so there would not be
Anyone deluding themselves with the hope of possessing it.
لِلَّهِ كَمتُغري الفَتى بِوِصالِها
وَتَضُنُّ حَتّى في الكَرى بِوِصالِها
By God, how it tempts the youth with its union,
Yet withholds that union, even in slumber.
تُدنيهِ مِن أَبوابِها بِيَمينِها
وَتَرُدُّهُعَن خِدرِها بِشَمالِها
She draws him near her gates with her right hand,
And repels him from her chamber with her left.
كَم قُلتُ هَذا الأَمرُ بَعضُ صَوابِها
فَوَجَدتُهُ بِالخَبَرِ بَعضَ مَحالِها
How often I said, "This matter is part of her truth,"
Only to find it, through experience, part of her absurdity.
وَلَكَم خُدِعتُ بِئالِها وَذَمَمتُهُ
وَرَجِعتُ أَظمَأَ ما أَكونُ لِئالِها
And how often I was deceived by her mirage and condemned it,
Only to return, thirstier than ever for that very mirage.
قَد كُنتُ أَحسَبُني أَمِنتُ ضَلالَها
فَإِذا الَّذي خَمَّنتُ كُلُّ ضَلالِها
I used to think I was safe from her error,
But behold, what I surmised was the very essence of her error.
إِنَّ النُفوسَ تَغُرُّها آمالُها
وَتَظَلُّ عاكِفَةً عَلى آمالِها
Verily, souls are beguiled by their own hopes,
And remain devotedly attached to those hopes.
ذَهَبَ الصِبا وَأَنا أُعالِجُ سِرَّها
مُتَحَيِّراً في كَنَهِها وَمَآلَها
Youth has passed while I grapple with her secret,
Bewildered by her essence and her ultimate end.
حَتّى رَأَيتُ الشَمسَ تُلقي نورَها
في الأَرضِ فَوقَ سُهولِها بِحِبالِها
Until I saw the sun casting its light
Upon the earth, over its plains, with its tethering rays.
وَرَأَيتُ أَحقَرَ ما بَناهُ عَنكَبٌ
مُتَلَفِّفاً وَمُطَوَّقاً بِحِبالِها
And I saw the humblest web a spider ever spun
Enwrapped and encircled by those very rays.
مِثلَ القُصورِ العالِياتِ قِبابُها
الشامِخاتِ عَلى الذَرى بِقِلالِها
Resembling lofty palaces with their domes,
Towering upon the peaks with their pinnacles.
فَعَلِمتُ أَنَّ النَفسَ تَخطُرُ في الحِلى
وَالوَشيِ مِثلُ النَفسِ في أَسمالِها
Then I knew that the soul strutting in ornaments
And brocade is like the soul in its rags.
لَيسَت حَياتَكَ غَيرَ ما صَوَّرتَها
أَنتَ الحَياةُ بِصَمتِها وَمَقالِها
Your life is nothing other than what you have imagined it;
You are life, in its silence and its speech.
وَلَقَد نَظَرتُ إِلى الحَمائِمِ في الرُبى
فَعَجِبتُ مِن حالِ الأَنامِ وَحالِها
I gazed at the doves upon the hills,
And marveled at the state of mankind compared to theirs.
لِلشَوكِ حَظُّ الوَردِ مِن تَغريدِها
وَسَيكَهُ مِن بَعدُ في إِعوالِها
The thorns share the rose's portion of her song,
Just as the thicket shares later in her lamentation.
تَشدو وَصائِدُها يَمُدُّ لَها الرَدى
فَاِعجَب لِمُحسِنَةٍ إِلى مُغتالِها
She sings while her hunter extends death toward her;
Marvel at one who shows kindness to her assassin!
فَغَبَطتُها في أَمنِها وَسَلامِها
وَوَدَدتُ لَو أُعطيتُ راحَةَ بالِها
I envied her for her security and peace,
And wished that I had been granted her peace of mind.
وَجَعَلتُ مَذهَبَها مِنَفسِيَ مَذهَباً
وَنَسَجتُ أَخلاقي عَلى مِنوالِها
I made her philosophy a path for my own soul,
And wove my character upon her loom.
مَن لَجَّ في ضَيمي تَرَكتُ سَمائَهُ
تَبكي عَلَيَّ بِشَمسِها وَهِلالِها
Whoever persists in wronging me, I leave his sky
To weep over me with its sun and its crescent.
وَهَجَرتُ رَوضَتُهُ فَأَصبَحَ وَردُها
لِليَأسِ كَالأَشواكِ في أَدغالِها
I abandoned his garden, so its roses became,
Through despair, like thorns in the thickets.
وَزَجَرتُ نَفسي أَن تَميلَ كَنَفسِهِ
عَن كَوثَرِ الدُنيا إِلى أَوحالِها
And I forbade my soul from inclining, as his did,
Away from the world's nectar toward its mire.
نِسيانُكَ الجاني المُسيءَ فَضيلَةٌ
وَخُمودُ نارٍ جَدَّ في إِشعالِها
Forgetting the abusive offender is a virtue,
And an extinguishing of the fire he strove to ignite.
فَاِربَء بِنَفسِكَ وَالحَياةُ قَصيرَةٌ
أَن تَجعَلَ الأَضغانَ مِن أَحمالِها
So elevate yourself—for life is short—
From making grudges one of its burdens.
زَمَنَ الشَبابِ رَحَلتَ غَيرَ مُذَمَّمٍ
وَتَرَكتَ لِلحَسَراتِ قَلبي الوالِها
O time of youth, you departed without blame,
Yet left my ravished heart to its regrets.
دَبَّت عَقارِبُها إِلَيهِ تَنوشُهُ
وَرَمَت بَقاياهُ إِلى أَصلالِها
Its scorpions crawled toward it, stinging,
And cast its remnants to the vipers.
لَم يَبقَ مِن لَذّاتِهِ إِلّا الرُأى
وَمِنَ الصَبابَةِ غَيرُ طَيفِ خَيالِها
Nothing remains of its pleasures but visions,
Nor of passion but the phantom of its memory.
وَمِنَ الكُؤوسِ سِوى صَدى رَبنّاتِها
وَالراحِ غَيرُ خُمارِها وَخُبالِها
Nor of the cups but the echo of their ringing,
Nor of the wine but its hangover and ruin.
يا جَنَّةً عوجِلَت عَن أَثمارِها
وَلَذاذَةً عُرِّيَت مِن سِربالِها
O paradise, snatched away before its fruition,
O delight, stripped bare of its raiment.
أعابَها شَيءٌ سِوى اِضمِحلالُها
وَالذَنبُ لِلأَقدارِ في اِضمِحلالِها
Did any flaw mar it other than its impermanence?
And the fault for its fading lies with the Fates.
وَمَليحَةٍ في وَجهِها أَلَقُ الضُحى
وَالسِحرُ وَالصَهباءُ في أَقوالِها
And a beauty, in whose face is the morning's glow,
And in whose words are magic and wine.
قالَت أَيَنسى النازِحونَ بِلادَهُم
ما هاجَ حُزنَ القَلبِ غَيرُ سُؤالِها
She asked, "Do the exiles forget their homelands?"
Nothing stirred the heart's sorrow like her question.
الأَرضُ سورِيّا أَحَبُّ رُبوعِها
عِندي وَلُبنانُ أَعَزُ جِبالِها
The land is Syria—its regions are most beloved to me,
And Lebanon is the dearest of its mountains.
وَالناسُ أَكرَمَهُم عَلَيَّ عَشيرُها
روحي الفِداءُ لِرَهطِها وَلِئالِها
And the people—the most honored to me are her kin;
My soul is a ransom for her tribe and her folk.
وَالشُهبُ أَسطَعُها الَّتي في أُفقِها
لَيسَ الجَلالُ الحَقُّ غَيرَ جَلالِها
And the stars—the brightest are those in her horizon;
True majesty is nothing other than her majesty.
وَأَحَبُّ غَيثٍ ما هَمى في أَرضِها
حَتّى الحَيا الباكي عَلى أَطلالِها
And the dearest rain is that which falls upon her soil,
Even the showers weeping over her ruins.
مَرَحُ الصِبا الجَذلانِ في أَسحارِها
وَمُنى الصِبا الوَلهانِ في آصالِها
The joy of gleeful youth is in her dawns,
And the desires of lovesick youth are in her dusks.
إِنّي لَأَعرِفُ ريحَها مِن غَيرِها
بِنَوافِخِ الأَشذاءِ في أَذيالِها
I distinguish her breeze from all others
By the fragrant scents wafting in its trails.
تِلكَ المَنازِلُ كَم خَطَرتُ بِساحِها
في ظِلِّ ضَيغَمِها وَعَطفِ غَزالِها
Those dwellings—how often I strolled in their courtyards,
In the shadow of her lions and the grace of her gazelles.
وَشَذَوتُ مَع أَطيارِها وَسَهِرتُ مَع
أَقمارِها وَرَقَصتُ مَع شَلّالِها
I sang along with her birds, and kept vigil with
Her moons, and danced with her waterfalls.
وَسَجَدتُ لِلإِلهامِ مَع صَفصافِها
وَضَحِكتُ لِلأَحلامِ مَع وَزّالِها
I bowed to inspiration alongside her willows,
And laughed at dreams alongside her broom flowers.
وَمَلَأتُ عَقلي مِن حَديثِ شُيوخِها
وَأَخَذتُ شِعري مِن لَغى أَطفالِها
I filled my mind with the wisdom of her elders,
And drew my poetry from the chatter of her children.
تَشتاقُ عَيني قَبلَ يُغمِضُها الأَدى
لَو أَنَّها اِكتَحَلَت وَلَو بِرِمالِها
My eye longs, before death closes it forever,
To be soothed, if only by the kohl of her sands.
مَرَّت بِيَ الأَعوامُ تَقفو بَعضَها
وَثَبَ القَطا تَعدو إِلى آجالِها
The years have passed me, following one another
Like flocking sandgrouse leaping toward their destined ends.
وَتَعاقَبَت صُوَرُ الجَمالِ فَلَم يَدُم
في خاطِري مِنها سِوى تِمثالَها
Visions of beauty have come in succession, yet nothing remains
In my mind of them all, save for her image alone.
