أَقُصُّ عَلَيكُم ما جَرى لِيَ بِالأَمسِ

فَلي قَصَصٌ تَجلو الهُمومَ عَنِ النَفسِ

I shall recount to you what befell me yesterday,

For I have tales that scour sorrows from the soul.

إِذا قُلتُ قالَ الدَهرُ أَحسَنتَ يا فَتىً

وَلَو كانَ ذا حِسٍّ لَغابَ عَنِ الحِسِّ

When I spoke, Time itself declared, "You have spoken well, young man,"

And had Time possessed feeling, it would have swooned away from sheer sensation.

فَدونَكُمُ هَذا الحَديثُ فَإِنَّهُ

أَلَذُّ وَأَشهى مِن مُعاقَرَةِ الكَأسِ

So take this narrative, for truly it is

More delicious and delectable than quaffing the wine cup.

جَلَستُ إِلى طِرسي وَقَد عَسعَسَ الدُجى

أُسَطِّرُ ما توحِهِ نَفسِيَ في طِرسي

I sat before my parchment as the darkness deepened,

Inscribing upon the scroll what my soul inspires within me.

وَلَيسَ سِوى نورٍ ضَئيلٍ بِجانِبي

يَلوحُ وَيَخفى كَالرَجاءِ لَدَى اليَأسِ

With naught but a meager light beside me,

Flickering in and out like hope amidst despair.

وَكَالنَقعِ في جَوفِ الدَواةِ أَوِ الدُجى

وَكَالهِندِواني بَينَ أَنمُليَّ الخَمسِ

It was dark as ink in the belly of the well, or the night itself,

Yet sharp as an Indian blade between my five fingers.

فَصاحَةِ قِسٍّ أودِعَت في لِسانِهِ

وَحُكمَةُ لُقمانَ وَيُحسَبَ في الخُرسِ

The eloquence of Qiss has been entrusted to its tongue,

And the wisdom of Luqman, though it is reckoned among the mute.

ضَعيفُ الخُطى بادي النُحولِ كَأَنَّما

يُشَدُّ إِلى قَيدٍ يُشَدُّ إِلى حَبسِ

With feeble stride and visibly wasted frame, as though

It is being dragged toward shackles or hauled to prison.

أُقَلِّبُهُ فَوقَ الطُروسِ وَإِنَّما

أُقَلِّبُ فَوقَ الطِرسِ سَعدِيَ أَو نَحسي

I turn it over the parchments, yet in truth,

It is my own fortune or misfortune that I turn upon the page.

فَنَبَّهَني طَرقٌ عَلى بابِ غُرفَتي

وَصَوتٌ ضَعيفٌ وَهوَ أَقرَبُ لِلهَمسِ

Then a knocking at my chamber door startled me,

Accompanied by a feeble voice, closer to a whisper.

نَهَضتُ وَلَكِن مِثلَما يَنهَضُ الَّذي

بِهِ نَشوَةٌ أَو مَن يَفيقُ مِنَ المَسِّ

I rose, but only as one rises who is

Swayed by intoxication, or recovering from a spell of madness.

وَلَمّا فَتَحتُ البابَ أَبصَرتُ راهِباً

وَلَو كُنتُ طِفلاً قُلتُ غولٌ مِنَ الإِنسِ

And when I opened the door, I beheld a monk;

Had I been a child, I would have called him a ghoul among men.

فَأَزعَجَني مَرآهُ حَتّى كَأَنَّما

رَسولُ الرَدى قَد جاءَ يَنعى لِيَ نَفسي

His appearance disturbed me, as if indeed

The messenger of Death had come to announce my own end.

فَقُلتُ وَقاني اللَهُ شَرَّكَ ما الَّذي

أَتى بِكَ يا مَشؤومُ في ساعَةِ الأُنسِ

I said—God save me from your evil—"What has

Brought you, O bird of ill omen, in this hour of serene joy?"

أَجابَ كُفيتَ السوءَ جِئتُكَ طالِب

مَديحَكَ لِيَ بَينَ الآعارِبِ وَالفُرسِ

He replied, "May you be spared harm; I have come seeking

Your praise of me to be known among the Arabs and the Persians."

فَقُلتُ وَحَقِّ الشِعرِ مَدحُكَ واجِبٌ

وَمِثلِيَ يَقضيهِ عَلى العَينِ وَالرَأسِ

I said, "By the sacred right of poetry, your praise is a duty,

And one such as I fulfills it with all willingness and grace:

خَبَرتُ بَني الدُنيا وَفَتَّشتُ فيهِمُ

فَلَم تَرَ عَينِيَ قَطُّ أَثقَلَ مِن قِسِّ

For I have tested the children of this world and searched among them,

And never has my eye beheld a burden heavier than a priest!"