لِمَنِ الدِيارُ عَفونَ بِالحَبسِ

آياتُها كَمَهارِقِ الفُرسِ

The homes are desolate, imprisoned in neglect

Their ruins like the tracks of horses

لا شَيءَ فيها غَيرُ أَصوِرَةٍ

سُفعِ الخُدودِ يَلُحنَ في الشَمسِ

Nothing in them but figural images

Cheeks rough-hewn that chatter in the sun

وَغَيرُ آثارِ الجِيادِ بِأَعراضِ

الخِيامِ وَآيَةِ الدَعسِ

And traces of steeds in the breadth

Of tents, and signs of trampling

فَحَبَستُ فيها الرَكبَ أَحدُس فيُ

جُلِّ الأُمورِ وَكُنتُ ذا حَدسِ

So I confined the caravan there, brooding

On the entirety of affairs, being perceptive

حَتّى إِذا التَفَعَ الظِباءُ بِأَطرافِ

الظِلالِ وَقِلنَ في الكُنسِ

Until the gazelles leapt with the edges

Of shadows, and diminished in the scrub

وَيَئِستُ مِمّا كانَ يُطمِعُني

فيها وَلا يُسليكَ كَاليَأسِ

And I despaired of what had made me

Hopeful there, nothing consoling like despair

أَنمِي إِلى حَرفٍ مُذَكَّرَةٍ

تَهِصُ الحَصا بمَواقِعٍ خُنسِ

I incline toward an effeminate land

That shears the pebbles in desolate places

خَذِمٍ نَقائِلُها يَطِرنَ كَأَقطاعِ

الفِراءِ بِصَحصَحٍ شَأسِ

Whose scrawny cattle wander like

The furs of squirrels with a miserable bleating

أَفلا نُعَدِّيها إِلى مَلِكٍ

شَهمِ المَقادَةِ حازِمِ النَفسِ

Shall we not return it to a king

Valiant in leadership, resolute in spirit

فَإِلى ابنِ مارِيَةَ الجَوادِ وَهَل

شَروى أَبي حَسانَ في الإِنسِ

To the son of Maryah the generous, has

Abu Hassân found comfort among men

يَحبوكَ بِالزَعفِ الفَيوضِ عَلى

هَميانِها وَالدَهمِ كَالغَرسِ

You love him in the overflowing green

Upon its slopes, and the darkness like saplings

وَبالسَبيكِ الصُفرِ يُعقِبُها

بِالآنِساتِ البِيضِ وَاللُعسِ

And the yellow gold that follows

With the white sheep, and the missing

لا مُمسِكٌ لِلمالِ يُهلِكُهُ

طَلقُ النُجومِ لَدَيهِ كَالنَحسِ

No withholder of wealth it destroys

The loose stars before him like ill omens

فَلَهُ هُنالِكَ لا عَلَيهِ إِذا

رَغَمَت أُنوفُ القَومِ للِتَعسِ

So he has none there, if

The noses of the people are thrust into misery