شَربِناها عَلى سِرِّ القَوافي
وَسِرِّ الشاعِرِ السَمحِ الأَبَرِّ
We quaffed it for the secret sake of rhyme,
And for the secret of the poet, kind and pious.
سَقانا قَهوَتَينِ بِغَيرِ مَنِّ
عَصيرِ شُجَيرَة وَعَصيرِ فِكرِ
He served us two intoxicants, freely bestowed:
The essence of a shrub, and the essence of thought.
فَنَحنُ اِثنانِ سَكرانٌ لِحينٍ
عَلى أَمن وَسَكرانٌ لِدَهرِ
So we are a pair: one intoxicated for the moment,
Safe in peace, while the other is drunk for an age.
فَمَن أَمسى يَهيمُ بِبِنتِ قَصرٍ
فَإِنّا هائِمونَ بِبِنتِ قَفرِ
Let him who wanders lovesick for a palace dame
Know that we are captives of the daughter of the wild.
إِذا حَضَرَت فَذَلِكَ يَومُ سَعدٍ
وَإِن غابَت فَذَلِكَ يَومُ قَهرِ
When she is present, it is a day of jubilance,
And should she vanish, it is a day of deep despair.
لَها مِن ذاتِها سِترٌ رَقيقٌ
كَما صَبَغَ الحَياءُ جَبينَ بَكرِ
She wears a delicate veil of her own essence,
As shyness stains a virgin maiden’s brow.
إِذا دارَت عَلى الجُلّاسِ هَشّوا
كَأَنَّ كُؤوسَها أَخبارُ نَصرِ
When she circles round the guests, they brighten with delight,
As though her cups conveyed the tidings of a victory.
وَنَرشُفُها فَنَرشُفُ ريقَ خَودٍ
وَنَنشُقُها فَنَنشُقُ ريحَ عِطرِ
We sip her, and so taste a maiden’s sweet saliva,
We breathe her in, and inhale the scent of rare perfume.
وَلا نَخشى مِنَ الحُكّامِ حَداً
وَعِندَ اللَهِ لَم نوصَم بِوِزرِ
We fear no legal punishment from any judge,
Nor, before God, are we branded with a sin.
فَما في شُربِها إِثم وَنُكرٌ
وَشِربُ الخَمرِ نُكرٌ أَيَّ نُكرِ
There is no vice nor evil in her drinking,
While drinking wine is indeed a foul offense.
وَلَيسَت تَستَخِفُّ أَخا وَقارٍ
وَبِنتُ الدَنِّ بِالأَحلامِ تَزري
She does not rob a dignified man of his gravity,
While the cask’s daughter mocks the wisdom of the mind.
وَتَحفَظُ سِرَّ صاحِبَها مَصوناً
وَبِنتُ الكَرَمِ تَفضَحُ كُلَّ سِرِّ
She guards her companion’s secret, keeping it secure,
While the vine’s daughter exposes every hidden truth.
وَلِلصَهباءِ أَوقات وَهَذي
شَرابُ الناسِ في حَر وَقَرِّ
Wine has its seasons, but this brew remains
The drink of the people in heat and in the cold.
وَتَصلُحُ أَن يُطافَ بِها مَساءً
وَتَحسُنُ أَن تَكونَ شَرابَ طُهرِ
She is fit to be passed around when evening falls,
And worthy to be a draught of purity.
فَلَو عَرَفَت مَزاياها الغَواني
لَعَلَّقَ حُبُّها في كُلِّ نَحرِ
If the beauties knew the merits she possesses,
They would hang her beans like gems on every throat.
كَأَنَّ حُبوبُها خُضرا وَصُفراً
فُصوصَ زُمُرُّد وَشُذورَ تِبرِ
As though her beans, in green and yellow hues,
Were emerald stones and beads of pure gold dust.
كَأَنَّ الجِنَّ قَد نَفَثَت رُؤاها
عَلى أَوراقِها في ضَوءِ فَجرِ
As though the Jinn had breathed their mystic visions
Upon her leaves within the light of dawn.
أَلَستَ تَرى إِلَيها كَيفَ تَغى
وَكَيفَ تَثورُ إِن مُسَّت بِجَمرِ
Do you not see her, how she seethes and bubbles,
And how she rages when touched by the ember?
كَأَنَّ نَخيلَ مِصرِ قَد حَساها
وَإِلّا ما اِهتِزازُ نَخيلُ مِصرِ
It is as if the palm trees of Egypt sipped her,
Or else, what causes Egypt’s palms to sway?
جَلَوتُ بِها مِنَ الأَكدارِ ذِهني
كَما أَنّي غَسَلتُ هُمومَ صَدري
Through her, I polished all dullness from my mind,
Just as I washed the sorrows from my breast.
وَما هِيَ قَهوَةٌ تُطهى وَتُحسى
وَلَكِن نَفحَةٌ مِن روحِ حُرِّ
She is no mere coffee, brewed and sipped,
But a breath taken from a spirit, free and wild.
حَوى في شِعرِهِ عَبَثُ اِبنِ هاني
وَزادَ عَلَيهِ فَلسَفَةَ المَعَرّي
His verse contains the playfulness of Ibn Hani,
Enriched by the philosophy of Al-Ma’arri.
فَيا لَكَ شاعِراً لَبِقاً لَعوباً
كَأَنَّ يَراعَهُ أُنبوبُ سِحرِ
Oh, what a poet! So eloquent and playful,
As though his reed pen were a wand of magic.
يَفيضُ سَلاسَةً في كُلِّ لَفظٍ
وَيَجري رِقَّةً في كُلِّ سَطرِ
Overflowing with fluency in every phrase,
And flowing with delicacy in every line.
حَوَت دارُ السَميرِ هَدِيَّتَيهِ
وَتَحوي هَذِهِ الأَوراقُ شُكري
The Companion’s house embraced his two-fold gift,
And these pages here contain my gratitude.
