كَمَنجَةيَ الشَوّا عَلَيكِ السَلام

بِهَيكَلِ الوَحيِ وَعَرشِ الغَرام

O violin of Al-Shawwa, peace be upon you,

In the temple of revelation and upon the throne of love.

فيكِ اِلتَقَت أَرواحُ أَهلِ الهَوى

نَجوى وَشَكوى وَبُكا وَاِبتِسام

Within you, the souls of those who love have converged,

As intimate whispers, complaints, weeping, and smiles.

وَأَودَعَت فيكِ الصَبا هَمسُها

وَخَبَّأَ الأَسرارَ فيكِ الظَلام

The zephyr has deposited its whispers within you,

And darkness has concealed its secrets in your depths.

وَذابَ فيكِ الحُبُّ ذَوبَ النَدى

في مَبسِمِ الوِردِ وَجَفنِ الخُزام

And love has melted within you like the dissolving dew,

Upon the smiling lips of the rose and the eyelids of the lavender.

رُدّي إِلَينا اليَومَ دُنيا الرُأى

فَإِنَّنا نَشقى بِدُنيا الحُطام

Restore to us today the realm of visions,

For we are miserable in this world of wreckage.

أَجنِحَةُ الأَشواقِ مَقصوصَةٌ

أَو موثَقاتٌ وَالأَماني رِمام

The wings of our longings are clipped,

Or fettered tight, and our hopes are crumbling bones.

قَدِ اِنقَضى العُمرُ وَأَرواحُنا

مَفطومَةٌ بِالحِرصِ بِئسَ الفِطام

A lifetime has passed, yet our souls remain

Weaned on greed—what a wretched weaning indeed.

نَنأى عَنِ الحُسنِ وَنَشتاقُهُ

وَنَهجُرُ الماءَ وَنَشكو الأُوام

We distance ourselves from beauty though we yearn for it,

And we abandon the water while complaining of thirst.

وَيَبعَثُ الحَقلُ إِلَينا الشَذى

وَنَحنُ لا نَنشُقُ إِلّا الرَغام

The field wafts its fragrance towards us,

Yet we inhale nothing but dust.

نَسيرُ وَالأَضواءُ مِن حَولِنا

كَأَنَّنا في هَبوَةٍ أَو قَتام

We walk with lights shining all around us,

As though we are trapped in a haze or gloom.

وَالماءُ يَجري حَولَنا كَوثَراً

وَنَحنُ نَستَسقي السَحابَ الجَهام

While water flows around us like a heavenly spring,

We seek rain from barren, waterless clouds.

وَنَسهَرُ اللَيلَ لِغَيرِ الهَوى

ما تَنفَعُ اليَقَظَةُ وَالقَلبُ نام

We keep vigil at night for things other than love,

Of what use is wakefulness when the heart sleeps?

حَتّى نَسَينا كَيفَ لَونُ الضُحى

وَلَم نَعُد نَذكُرُ سَجعَ الحِمام

Until we have forgotten the color of the morning light,

And no longer recall the cooing of the doves.

خَيرٌ مِنَ اليَقَظَةِ عِندِيَ الكَرى

إِن كانَتِ الغَبطَةُ بِنتَ المَنام

To me, slumber is better than wakefulness,

If bliss is truly the child of dreams.

خِلنا الهَوى تَرجِعُ أَيّامُهُ

لَم يَرجِعِ الحُبُّ وَلا المالُ دام

We imagined that the days of love might return,

But love did not return, nor did wealth endure.

فَيا فَتى الشَهباءِ يا شاعِراً

قَد رَفَعَ الفَنَّ لِأَسمى مُقام

O son of Aleppo, O poet,

Who has elevated art to the highest station.

رَجِعتَ بِالسِحرِ وَكانَ اِنطَوى

وَجِئتَنا بِالوَحيِ في غَيرِ جام

You brought back magic after it had vanished,

And brought us inspiration without need of a wine cup.

هَذا عَصيرُ الوَحيِ في آلَةٍ

خَرساءَ يَجري فِتَناً لِلأَنام

This is the essence of revelation within an instrument,

A mute object that pours forth enchantment for mankind.

فَإِن تَجِدنا حَولَها عُكَّفاً

فَالمَنهَلُ العَذبُ كَثيرُ الزِحام

So if you find us gathered devotedly around it,

Know that the sweet spring attracts the greatest crowds.

فَدَغدِغِ الأَوتارَ لا تَكتَرِث

أَن تَذهَبَ الفِتنَةُ بِالاِحتِشام

So caress the strings and do not worry

If their enchantment sweeps away our restraint.

سَعادَةُ الأَنفُسِ في نَشوَةٍ

مِن صورَةٍ أَو نَغَمٍ أَو مُدام

The happiness of souls lies in the rapture,

Born of an image, a melody, or wine.

وَقُل لِمَن يَحذُرُ أَن يَشتَكي

وَيَحبِسُ الدَمعَ لِأَلّا يُلام

And tell him who is afraid to voice his complaint,

And holds back his tears to escape blame:

إِسمَع فَهَذا وَتَرٌ نائِحٌ

وَاِنظُر فَهَذا خَشَبٌ مُستَهام

Listen, for this is a weeping string,

And look, for this is mere wood struck with passion.

نيويوركَ يا ذاتَ البُروجِ الَّتي

سَمَت وَطالَت كَي تَمُسَّ الغَمام

O New York, mistress of towers that

Have risen and stretched to touch the clouds,

لَن تَبلُغي وَاللَهِ بابَ السَما

إِلّا بِأَوتارٍ كَنارِ الشَآم

By God, you will never reach the gates of Heaven

Except through strings burning like the fire of the Levant.

فَاِصغي إِلى أَلحانِهِ لَحذَةً

تَحتَقِري كُلَّ صُنوفِ الكَلام

So listen to his melodies for a moment,

And you will come to disdain all forms of speech,

وَتُدرِكي أَنَّ قُصورَ المُنى

تَبقى وَنَهَدُّ قُصورُ الرِجام

And you will realize that the palaces of dreams

Endure, while palaces of stone collapse.

فَرَحِّبي مَعَنا بِهِ وَاِهتُفي

هَذا أَميرُ الفَنِّ هَذا الإِمام

So welcome him with us and proclaim:

This is the Prince of Art; this is the master.