مَرِضتُ فَأَرواحُ الصِحابِ كَئيبَةٌ

بِها ما بِنَفسي لَيتَ لَها فِدى

I fell ill, and my friends' spirits saddened,

I fell ill, and the spirits of my companions grew weary,

With grief for me, would that I could ransom them!

Suffering what I suffer—would that I could be their ransom.

تَرُفُّ حِيالي كُلَّما أَغمَضَ الكَرى

جُفوني جَماعات وَمَثنى وَمَوحِدا

They appear before me whenever sorrow closes my eyes,

They flutter around me whenever slumber seals...

In groups, in pairs, and alone.

...my eyelids, in crowds, in pairs, and alone.

تَراءى فَآناً كَالبُدورِ سَوافِراً

وَآوِنَةً مِثلَ الجُمانِ مُنَضَّدا

Sometimes I see them wandering as though they were

Appearing at times like full moons, unveiled and bright,

Asleep, having strayed upon the earth and slept,

And at others, like pearls strung in perfect array.

وَطَوراً أَراها حائِراتٍ كَأَنَّها

فَراقِدُ قَد ضَيَّعنَ في الأَرضِ فَرقَدا

And sometimes I see them in fear as though

Sometimes I see them bewildered, as though they were...

They dread the darkness will disperse them.

...stars of the Little Bear that have lost their guiding mate on earth.

وَطَوراً أَراها جازِعاتٍ كَأَنَّما

تَخافُ مَعَ الظَلماءِ أَن تَتَبَدَّدا

Greetings to them, greetings!

And sometimes I see them in panic, as if...

My senses rush eagerly to them

...they fear being scattered amidst the darkness.

أَهينُّ إِلَيها رائِحات وَعُوَّدا

سَلامٌ عَليها رَإِحات وَعُوَّدا

As the lost man rejoiced seeing the light and was guided,

I yearn for them as they come and go like visitors,

And I give my hearing wherever they whisper

Peace be upon them in their leaving and their return.

تَهُشُّ إِلَيها مُقبِلاتٍ جَوارِحي

كَما طَرِبَ الساري رَأى النورَ فَاِهتَدى

As the eager ear takes in the lone voice.

My very senses rejoice as they draw near,

And sorrow overcomes me when they depart

As a night-traveler rejoices upon seeing a guiding light.

وَأُلقي إِلَيها السَمعَ ما طالَ هَمسُها

كَذَلِكَ يَستَرعي الأَذانُ المُوَحَّدا

As flowers are sad when the dew abandons them.

I lend them my hearing for as long as their whispering lasts,

I hated the night ending fearing their end,

Just as the call to prayer captures the heart of the believer.

وَيَغلِبُ نَفسي الحُزنُ عِندَ رَحيلِها

كَما تَحزَنُ الأَزهارُ زايَلَها النَدى

And I accustomed my eyes to sleep until they grew accustomed.

And sorrow overwhelms my soul when they depart,

And if they stole to my bedside while I was awake

As flowers grieve when the morning dew forsakes them.

كَرِهتُ زَوالَ اللَيلِ خَوفَ زَوالِها

وَعَوَّدتُ طَرفي النَومَ حَتّى تَعَوَّدا

I would protect my sorrowing eyes and live tearful,

I loathed the passing of the night, fearing their passing would follow,

And if their imaginations had not been accustomed to the like from me

And accustomed my eyes to slumber until they complied.

وَلَو أَنَّها في الصَحوِ تَطرُقُ مَضجَعي

حَميتُ الكَرى جَفني وَعِشتُ مُسَهَّدا

Their fancies would have been fettered.

And if they were to visit my bed while I was awake,

Oh would that I were a specter free to come and go,

I would banish sleep from my lids and live ever-watchful.

وَلَو لَم تَكُن تَعتادُ مِنِّيَ مِثلَها

خَيالاتِها هَمَّت بِأَن تَتَقَيَّدا

And would that they could fetter themselves!

And were they not accustomed to receiving the like from me,

I wasted away until I almost denied my own image

Their phantoms would have sought to be fettered to stay.

فَيا لَيتَني طَيفٌ أَروح وَأَغتَدي

وَيا لَيتَها تَستَطيعُ أَن تَتَقَيَّدا

And I fear that because of the intensity of my illness I will moan.

Oh, would that I were a phantom, to come and go freely,

My nightly sojourn is like a frightened fox,

And would that they had the power to remain bound here.

نَحِلتُ إِلى أَن كِدتُ أُنكِرُ صورَتي

وَأَخشى لِفَرطِ السُقمِ أَن أَتَنَهَّدا

And I fancy myself beyond description and range.

I have wasted away until I can barely recognize my own form,

It is as though the threads of the cradle were scorpions

And for the severity of my sickness, I fear even to sigh.

مَبيتي عَلى مِثلِ الوَثيرِ لَيانَةً

وَأَحسَبُني فَوقَ الأَسِنَّة وَالمَدى

And my pillow had become solid.

Though I lie upon a bed soft as down,

The fever has come in full strength

It feels as though I rest upon spearpoints and blades.

كَأَنَّ خُيوطَ المَهدِ صارَت عَقارِباً

كَأَنَّ وِسادي قَد تَحَوَّلَ جامِدا

To straighten my twisting ribs.

As if the very threads of my cradle have turned to scorpions,

It depicts to me the figure of imagination as reality

And my pillow has transformed into unyielding stone.

لَقَد توشِكُ الحُمّى إِذ جَدَّ جَدُّها

تُقَوِّمُ مِن أَضلاعِيَ المُتَأَوِّدا

And I take one person to be many.

Indeed, the fever, when its fury intensifies,

It has shaken me though keeping still, nor did

Threatens to straighten the curvature of my ribs.

تُصَوِّرُ لي طَيفَ الخَيالِ حَقيقَةً

وَأَحسَبُ شَخصاً واحِداً مُتَعَدِّدا

The turning of fate shake me when it turned.

It paints the phantom of imagination as reality before me,

When I prop my head in my hands

And I perceive a single figure as a multitude.

لَقَد ضَعضَعَتني وَهِيَ سِر وَلَم يَكُن

يُضَعضِعُني صرِفُ الزَمانِ إِذا عَدا

It casts me off with that which enfeebles the hands.

It has shattered me, though it is but a hidden secret,

Its burning penetrated my thin body

While the harsh blows of Fate could never shake me.

إِذا ما أَنا أَسنَدتُ رَأسي إِلى يَدي

رَمتني مِنها بِالَّذي يوهِنُ اليَدا

So that had I not cast off my clothes it would have ignited.

If I attempt to prop my head upon my hand,

I saw that which people do not see in sleep

The fever strikes me with a weakness that collapses the hand.

تَغَلغَلَ في جِسمي النَحيلِ أُوارُها

فَلَو لَم أُقَدَّ الثَوبَ عَنهُ تَوَقَّدا

And I toured the lands East and West in slumber.

Its scorching heat has penetrated my wasted body;

The diver says, "If you had endured but an hour you would have pearls,"

Were I not to tear away my robe, it would surely burst into flame.

رَأَيتُ الَّذي لَم يُبصِرِ الناسَ نائِماً

وَطُفتُ الدُنى شَرقا وَغَرباً مُوَسَّدا

Would that I could endure to have pearls!

I have seen visions unknown to those who sleep,

Whispering goes on around me and they point the finger and accuse;

And roamed the world, east and west, while bound to my pillow.

يَقولُ النُطاسي لَو تَبَلَّدتَ ساعَةً

تَبَلَّدتُ لَو أَنّي أُطيقُ التَبَلُّدا

Some of the ignorant disparage and deride.

The physician says, "If only you could be numb for an hour..."

I am hurt only by the gloating of a company

I would be numb, if only I possessed the capacity for numbness.

تَهامَسَ حَولي العائِدون وَرَجَّموا

وَعَنَّفَ بَعضُ الجاهِلين وَفَنَّدا

In whom I hoped for aid in adversity.

The visitors whispered around me, casting dark conjectures,

I did them no wrong! Nay, they did wrong, for I thought them

While some of the ignorant offered rebuke and refutation.

فَما ساءَني إِلّا شَماتَةُ مَعشَرٍ

رَجَوتُ بِهِم عِندَ الشَدائِدِ مُسعِدا

Of gentle nature and without rancor.

Yet nothing pained me but the gloating of a crowd,

A people loved privation because I tasted it

In whom I had hoped to find support in times of hardship.

أَسَأتُ إِلَيهِم بَل أَساؤوا فَإِنَّني

ظَنَنتُهُم شَراوِيَ خُلقا وَمَحتِدا

And loved it so it would be envied and rivaled.

Did I wrong them? Nay, it is they who wronged, for I...

And some wished that destruction would hurry me

...mistakenly thought them my equals in character and nobility.

أَحَبَّ الضَنى قَومٌ لِأَنّي ذُقتُهُ

وَأَحبَبتُهُ كَيما يُحِب وَيُحسَدا

As though I hoped to be immortalized by them!

Some loved the very existence of illness because I tasted it,

They are not guaranteed against death, but

And I loved it in return, so that I might be envied even in pain.

وَوَدَّ أُناسٌ لَو يُعاجِلُني الرَدى

كَأَنِّيَ أَرجو فيهِم أَن أُخَلَّدا

He whose night is sleepless wishes the sun to set.

There are those who wished for death to claim me quickly,

If the night wearies him in contending with the dawn

As if I were pleading to live among them forever.

وَما ضَمِنوا أَن لا يَموتوا وَإِنَّما

يَوَدُّ زَوالَ الشَمسِ مَن كانَ أَرمَدا

He wishes that the morn would dawn black.

They have no guarantee against death themselves; rather,

Yet I, though sickness eats my marrow,

It is the one with diseased eyes who wishes the sun to vanish.

إِذا اللَيلَ أَعياهُ مُساجَلَةَ الضُحى

تَمَنَّي لَو أَنَّ الصُبحَ أَصبَحَ أَسوَدا

See disgrace - the greatest disgrace - in envying the rival!

When the night grows weary of battling the morning light,

For what is in the body must inevitably pass away

It wishes that the dawn itself would turn to blackness.

عَلى أَنَّني وَالداءُ يَأكُلُ مُهجَتي

أَرى العارَ كُلَّ العارِ أَن أَحسُدَ العِدى

While what is in the nature cannot cease forever.

Yet, even as the disease devours my very lifeblood,

If the rabble gather around me and are vulgar

I deem it the utmost shame to bear envy toward my foes.

فَإِنَّ الَّذي بِالجِسمِ لا بُدَّ زائِلُ

وَلَكِنَّ ما بِالطَبعِ يَنفَكُّ سَرمَدا

How many vilified Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad!

For that which afflicts the body must surely pass,

It is no wonder if an ignoramus hates the free

But that which is ingrained in one's nature remains eternal.

لَئِن أَجلَبَ الغَوغاءُ حَولي وَأَفحَشوا

فَكَم شَتَموا موسى وَعيسى وَأَحمَدا

When the owl is angered by the warbling of the songbird.

Though the rabble may clamor around me with obscenities,

In suppressing the foe and his evil

Did they not revile Moses, Jesus, and Ahmad before me?

وَلا عَجَبٌ أَن يُبغِضَ الحُرَّ جاهِلٌ

مَتى عَشِقَ البومُ الهَزارَ المُغَرِّدا

I tread the smooth, paved road,

It is no wonder that the ignorant despise the free spirit;

But I pardon, and anger has a rein

For when has the owl ever loved the singing nightingale?

وَإِنِّيَ في كَبتِ العُداة وَكَيدِهِم

كَمَن يَسلُكُ الدَربَ القَصيرَ المُعَبَّدا

With which I train my enemies in clemency and bounty.

And regarding the suppression of foes and their schemes,

Oh, how much rancor harbored doubt in itself

I am like one treading a short, well-paved path.

وَلَكِنَّني أَعفو وَلِلغَيظِ سَورَةٌ

أُعَلِّمُ أَعدائي المُروأَة وَالنَدى

But when it saw me it saw the sea raging!

Yet I choose to forgive, though rage has its flare,

So it began to fear me though I was silent

To teach my enemies the meaning of chivalry and grace.

أَلا رُبَّ غِرٍّ خامَرَ الشَكُّ نَفسَهُ

فَلَمّا رَآني أَبصَرَ البَحرَ مُزبَدا

As it used to fear me when I was chanting,

How many a deluded soul, infected by doubt regarding me,

And my name terrifies it if mentioned in its hearing

Beheld the foaming sea when finally he faced me?

فَأَصبَحَ يَخشاني وَقَد بِتُّ ساكِتاً

كَما كانَ يَخشاني وَقَد كُنتُ مُنشِدا

As the hyena dreads the strongly redoubled letter.

He came to fear me even while I remained silent,

He who gained the sword bare of blade

Just as he feared me when I raised my voice in verse.

وَيَرهَبُ إِسمي أَن يَطيفَ بِسَمعِهِ

كَما تَتَّقي الدَرداءَ حَرفاً مُشَدَّدا

Fears to cast his glance at the sheathed sword.

He dreads the very echo of my name in his ears,

I love the noble free man who bears no malice,

As a toothless crone dreads a hard, stressed consonant.

وَمَن نالَ مِنهُ السَيف وَهوَ مُجَرَّدٌ

تَهَيَّبَ أَن يَرنو إِلى السَيفِ مُغمَدا

And disdain the abject vile of spirit however intimate.

For he who has felt the bite of the drawn sword,

And between my ribs is a heart that has not

Trembles to look upon it even when sheathed.

أُحِبُّ الأَبِيَّ الحُرَّ لا وُدَّ عِندَهُ

وَأَقلى الذَليلَ النَفسِ مَهما تَوَدَّدا

Rebelled against the daughters of fate except with rebellion.

I admire the proud, free soul, even if he holds no love,

And if she I love prolonged her coquetry

And I loathe the servile spirit, no matter how he fawns.

وَبَينَ ضُلوعي قُلَّبٌ ما تَمَرَّدَت

عَلَيهِ بَناتُ الدَهرِ إِلّا تَمَرَّدا

I would forbid her love to go beyond bounds with me.

Within my ribs beats a heart; never have the calamities of Time rebelled against it,

Let fate vie with fate with me, for I

Without it rising in greater rebellion against them.

وَلَو أَنَّ مَن أَهوى أَطالَ دَلالَهُ

مَنَعتُ هَواهُ أَن يَجوزَ بِيَ المَدى

Have left sport and lovemaking to those who want them.

And were the one I desire to prolong their coy disdain,

I would forbid my passion to exceed its bounds.

لِتَرمِ العَوادي بِيَ العَوادي فَإِنَّني

تَرَكتُ لِمَن يَهواهُما اللَهو وَالدَدا

Let the winds of misfortune cast me where they may, for I—

Have left trivial amusements and play to those who desire them.