كَأَنِّيَ في رَوضٍ أَرى الماءَ جارِياً

أَمامي وَفَوقي الغَيمُ يَجهَدُ بِالنَشرِ

It is as if I am in a garden, watching the water flow,

Before me and above, the clouds strive to spread across the sky.

تَوَهَّمتُهُ هَمّاً فَقُلتُ لَهُ اِنجَلي

فَإِنَّ هُمومي ضاقَ عَن وِسعِها صَدري

I mistook them for sorrows, so I said to them: 'Disperse!'

For my own cares are too vast for my chest to contain.

بِرَبِّكَ سِر حَيثُ الخَليُ فَإِنَّني

فَتىً لا أَرى غَيرَ المَصائِبِ في دَهري

By God, move on to where the carefree dwell, for I

Am a youth who sees nothing but calamities in his lifetime.

فَأَقشَعَ حَتّى لَم أَشُكَّ بِأَنَّهُ

أَصاخَ إِلى قَولي وَما شَكَّ في أَمري

Then the clouds cleared away, until I had no doubt that they

Had listened closely to my words and understood my plight.

رَعى اللَهُ ذَيّاكَ الغَمامَ الَّذي رَعى

عُهودي وَأَولاني الجَميل وَلَم يَدرِ

May God watch over those clouds, which respected

My pleas, and bestowed kindness upon me unaware.

تَظَلَّلتُ بَِلأَشجارِ عِندَ اِختِفائِهِ

وَيا رُبَّ طَلٍّ كانَ أَجمَلَ مِن قَطرِ

I sought shade beneath the trees when the clouds vanished,

And oh, how often is light dew more beautiful than heavy rain.

جَلَستُ أَبُثُّ الزَهرَ سِرّاً كَتَمتُهُ

عَنِ الناسِ حَتّى صِرتُ أَخفى مِنَ السِرِّ

I sat revealing to the flowers a secret I had hidden

From all people, until I became more obscure than the secret itself.

وَلَمّا شَكَوتُ الوَجدَ وَجدي تَمايَلَت

كَأَنَّ الَّذي أَشكوهُ ضَربٌ مِنَ الخَمرِ

And when I complained of my passion, the flowers swayed,

As if the pain I voiced were a kind of intoxicating wine.

وَأَدهَشَها صَبري فَأَدهَشَني الهَوى

دَهِشتُ لِأَنَّ الزَهرَ أَدهَشَها صَبري

My patience amazed them, while love amazed me;

I marveled that the flowers were marveled by my endurance.

وَلَمّا دَرَت أَنّي مُحِبٌّ مُتَيَّمٌ

بَكَت وَبَكاني كُلُّ ضاحِكٍ مُفتَرِ

And when they realized I was a lover, thrall to passion,

They wept, and every smiling blossom wept for me.

عَجِبتُ لَها تَبكي لِما بي وَلَم يَكُن

عَجيباً عَلى مِثلي البُكاءُ مِنَ الصَخرِ

I wondered at them weeping for my state, though it would not

Be strange for even rocks to weep for one like me.

كَأَنِّيَ بَدر وَالزُهورُ كَواكِبٌ

وَذا الرَوضِ أُفقٌ ضاءَ بِالبَدر وَالزَهرِ

It was as if I were a full moon and the flowers were stars,

And this garden a horizon, lit by moon and blossom alike.

كَأَنّي وَقَد أَطلَقتُ نَفسي مِنَ العَنا

مَليكٌ لِيَ الأَغصانُ كَالعَسكَرِ المَجرِ

As if I, having freed my soul from its weariness,

Were a king, with branches serving as my vast army.

فَما أَسعَدَ الإِنسانَ في ساعَةِ المُنى

وَما أَجمَلَ الأَحلامَ في أَوَّلِ العُمرِ

How happy is man in the hour of wishful dreaming,

And how beautiful are dreams in the prime of youth.

وَهاتِفَةٍ قَد أَقلَقَتني بِنَوحِها

فَكُنتُ كَمَخمورٍ أَفاقَ مِنَ السُكرِ

Then a cooing dove disturbed me with her mournful cry,

And I became like a drunkard shaken from his stupor.

تُرى رُوِّعَت مِثلي مِنَ الدَهرِ بِالفِرا

قِ أَم بَدَّلَت مِثلي مِنَ اليُسرِ بِالعُسرِ

Was she, like me, terrified by fate with separation?

Or did she, like me, trade a life of ease for hardship?

بَكَيت وَلَو لَم أَبكِ مِمّا بَكَت لَهُ

بَكَيتُ لِما بي مِن سَقام وَمِن ضَرِّ

I wept, and even if I did not weep for her cause,

I wept for my own sickness and my own despair.

وَنَهرٍ إِذا والى التَجَعُّدَ مائُهُ

ذَكَرتُ الأَفاعي إِذ تَلوي عَلى الجَمرِ

And a river—when its waters rippled continuously,

I recalled snakes twisting upon burning embers.

تُحيطُ بِهِ الأَشجارُ مِن كُلِّ جانِبٍ

كَما دارَ حَولَ الجيدِ عَقدٌ مِنَ الدُرِّ

Trees surround it from every side,

Just as a necklace of pearls encircles a neck.

وَقَد رَقَمَت أَغضانَها في أَديمَةٍ

كِتاباً مِنَ الأَوراقِ سَطراً عَلى سَطرِ

Their branches inscribed upon the water's surface,

A book made of leaves, line following line.

كَأَنَّ دَنانيراً تَسّاقَطُ فَوقَهُ

وَلَيسَ دَنانيرٌ سِوى الوَرَقِ النَضرِ

As if gold dinars were falling upon it—

Yet they were not coins, but merely fresh green leaves.

كَأَنّي بِهِ المِرآةُ عِندَ صَفائِها

تُمَثِّلُ ما يَدنو إِلَيها وَلا تَدري

It seemed to me a mirror in its clarity,

Reflecting whatever draws near, without perceiving.

فَما كانَ أَدرى الغُصنَ بِالنَظم وَالنَثرِ

وَما كانَ أَدرى الماءَ بِالطَي وَالنَشرِ

How well the branch knew both verse and prose,

And how well the water knew the art of folding and unfolding.

ذَرِ المَدح وَالتَشبيبَ بَِلخَمر وَالمَهى

فَإِنّي رَأَيتُ الوَصفَ أَليَقُ بِالشِعرِ

Leave aside praise-poems and odes to wine and maidens;

For I have found that description best befits poetry.

وَما كانَ نَظمُ الشِعرِ دَأبي وَإِنَّما

دَعاني إِلَيهِ الحُب وَالحُبُّ ذو أَمرِ

Composing verse was never my custom, but

Love summoned me to it, and Love commands authority.

وَلي قَلَمٌ كَالرُمحِ يَهتَزُّ في يَدي

إِلى الخَيرِ يَسعى وَالرِماحُ إِلى الشَرِّ

I hold a pen that quivers like a spear in my hand,

Striving toward good, while spears strive toward evil.

وَتَفتَكُ اتيكَ الأَسِنَّةُ في الحَشى

وَيُحيِ الحَشى إِن راحَ يَفتُكُ بِالحِبرِ

Those metal tips destroy the living flesh,

While this pen revives the soul when it spills its ink.

إِذا ما شَدا بِالطِرسِ أَذهَبَ شَدوُهُ

هُمومَ ذَوي الشَكوى وَوَقرَ ذَوي الوَقرِ

When it sings upon the parchment, its melody dispels

The cares of the grieving and the burden of the heavy-hearted.

تَبَختَرَ فَوقَ الطِرسِ يَسحَبُ ذَيلَهُ

فَقالوا بِهِ كِبَرٌ فَقُلتُ عَنِ الكِبَرِ

It struts across the page, trailing its train,

They said, 'It is arrogant.' I replied, 'Far from arrogance!'

لِكُلٍّ مِنَ الدُنيا حَبيب وَذا الَّذي

أَشُدُّ بِهِ أَزري وَيَعلو بِهِ قَدري

Everyone in this world has a beloved, and this is the one

Through whom I strengthen my resolve and raise my worth.

وَيَبقى بِهِ ذِكرى إِذا غالَني الرَدى

حَسبُ الفَتى ذِكرٌ يَدومُ إِلى الحَشرِ

Through it my memory remains, if death should strike me down;

It suffices a man to have a legacy that endures until the Resurrection.