سارَ الرَفيقُ لِقَصدِهِ وَتَلَبَّثا
وَشَكا فَما عَذَرَ الرَفيقَ وَلا رَثى
The companion journeyed on to his goal while we lingered,
And though he did not offer excuse nor mourn his friend,
وَرَأى الطَلولَ تُطيقُ دَفعاً لِلأَسى
وَقَضَت عَلَيهِ أَن يَنوحَ وَيَمكُثا
He saw that only perseverance could lessen his sorrow
And so was fated to weep and bide his time.
لَم يَبقَ فيها غَيرُ نُؤيٍ خامِلٍ
وَمُسَحَّجٍ رَثِّ القِلادَةِ أَشعَثا
None were left save a silent hermit
And a dishevelled vagrant with necklace askew,
عَفّى وَغَيَّرَها زَمانٌ غادِرٌ
مُتَقَلِّبٌ في شَرطِهِ أَن يَنكُثا
Whom time forgot and treacherously betrayed,
Ever fickle in its dealings and quick to renounce.
مِن بَعدِ عَهدِكَ أَن تَرى في رَبعِها
رَشَأً كَحيلَ المُقلَتَينِ مُرَقَّشا
After the days you spent here, looking out on its plains
To see a landscape like the gaze of heavy-lidded eyes,
يَرنو بِناظِرَةٍ تُذيبُ بِلَحظِها
مُهَجَ النُفوسِ تَقَتُّلاً وَتَأَنُّثا
That melt the souls of men with their murderous glances,
Inciting in their hearts both rapture and unease.
أَيّامَ يُلقي الزَهرُ في لَذّاتِهِ
وَسَناً وَتَبعَثُني الحَوادِثُ مَبعَثا
Days when flowers scatter their petals heedlessly
And events wake me from my slumber,
أَوَ ما عَجِبتَ لِصاحِبٍ لي شَرُّهُ
لا يَتَّقي أَن يَستَشيرَ وَيَبحَثا
Are you not surprised that a friend whose wickedness
Knows no bounds should ask advice or ponder?
أَعيا التُقاةَ فَما تَلينُ قَناتُهُ
وَعَصَت أَفاعيهِ الرُقاةَ النُفَّثا
He shuns all piety so his rigid mind will not relent,
And his vipers spurn the charmers’ murmurings.
ذَهَبَ القَديمُ مِنَ المَوَدَّةِ خالِصاً
وَاِستَبدَلَ الإِخوانُ وُدّاً مُحدَثا
The old affection we shared is wholly gone,
And the new love of comrades has taken its place.
يَعلو عَلَيَّ إِذا وَصَلتُ حِبالَهُ
فَإِذا قَطَعتُ الحَبلَ مِنهُ تَشَبَّثا
He lords it over me whenever I seek his favor,
Yet when I shun him, desperately he clings to me,
إِن يَحمِلَ الأَخبارَ يَنقُل نَفسَهُ
حَتّى يَظَلَّ بِسِرِّها مُتَحَدِّثا
Bearing news, his own soul he risks,
Just so with secrets he can regale and spin his tales.
مُتَهَكِّمٌ بِالسِرِّ لَيسَ بِعَقلِهِ
رَتَقٌ إِذا غَفَلَ الرِجالُ تَنَكَّثا
He jests but his mockery stirs the soul to rage,
And would wound the hearts of any who heard.
عُريانُ مِن حُلَلِ الجَلالَةِ وَالتُقى
لَم يَحوِ مِن كَرَمِ الخَلائِفِ مورِثا
Bare of the raiment of glory and righteous fear,
No inheritance of the Caliphs’ generosity did he inherit.
في مَزحِهِ جَدٌّ يَهيجُ لِسَمعِهِ
داءُ لصُدورِ عَلَيهِ حَتّى يَنفُثا
Was he not just one of the roving hordes
Who preyed on me with baseness and presumption?
هَل كانَ إِلّا بَعضَ مَيلِ كَتائِبٍ
رَعيا عَلَيَّ تَقَصُّفاً وَتَشَعُّثا
He deserves a blow or a cast of stones
To drive from me the most wretched and vile.
وَجَبَت عَلَيهِ كَسرَةٌ أَو رَميَةٌ
أَنفي بِها عَنّي الأَقَلَّ الأَخبَثا
And you who falsely claim to be my amanuensis -
By night naught can be seen but your frantic scrawling.
وَرَجَعتَ مُنتَحِلَ الكِتابَةِ لا تُرى
في اللَيلِ إِلّا ماضِياً مُتَعَبِّثا
