كَم أَعيا بِحَربِ أَعزَل

وَيَسبي جَيشَ اِصطِباري

How I struggle in an unequal war,

And pillage the army of endurance.

سَفّاك تَزهيهِ القِلادَه

قَديرٌ بِلا اِقتِدارِ

A blood-spiller who adorns his necklace,

Able without ability.

الطَرفُ بِالنورِ قاصِر

عَن رَبرَب تِلكَ المَقاصِر

My eyes fall short of the radiant

Dwellings of those enclosures,

تَحُفُّ بِها خَواطِر

وَتَتعَب فيها خَواطِر

Thoughts revel in them

And thoughts are exhausted by them.

الحَتفُ غُرورٌ فاتِر

لا أَرهَب غِرارَ باتِر

Allure is a fading deception,

I fear not the slumber of a dormant volcano.

وَلُقيا ذي الغُنجِ أَقتَل

لِلصَبِّ مِن ذي الغِرارِ

And I would slay the effeminate youth

For the young man with dormant fires.

عَيناك فيها زِيادَه

أَعيَت ماضي الشِفارِ

Your eyes exceed them,

Exhausting the past of eyelids.

بي أَهيَف كَالغُصنِ تَثنيه

ريحانِ صَبا وَسُكرُ

I am bent like a branch, swayed

By the myrtle’s east wind and intoxication.

هَل يُرشَف مُقَبَّلُ فيهِ

وِردانِ شَهدٌ وَخَمرُ

Shall I be satiated from a kiss therein

Of roses, wine, and fervor?

لَو أَسعَف موسى مُحِبّيه

أَرواني وَالشَوقُ جَمرُ

If only Moses would help his lovers,

I would show him burning passion.

مِن سُقيا ذاكَ المُقَبَّل

العَذبِ وَمَن يُماري

For from that sweet kiss, who can compete?

It quenches better than valley rains.

مِسواك مَقبولُ الشَهادَه

يَروي عَن رِيِّ الأَوارِ

Your missive, recipient of passion’s testament,

Relieves the flow of my companions.

أَفادا ماءَ الشُجون

مِن صَدري حُلوُ المَراشِف

It has brought the water of sorrows

From my chest—pillows of sweetness.

قَد زادا عَلى الغُصون

بِالخَصرِ وَبِالسَوالِف

It excelled the branches in waist and conversations,

And surpassed full moons in mouth and raiment.

وَسادا بَدرَ الدُجون

بِالثَغرِ وَبِالمَعاطِف

Even the gazelle is outspoken by it,

So let it graze and find no contention.

وَالظُبيا بِالنُطقِ أَخجَل

فَليُربي وَلا مُباري

Yours is the beauty of leadership

Over wild roses and creeks.

وَلّاكَ حُسنُكَ السِيادَه

عَلى القُضبِ وَالدَراري

How I have aged and missed your face,

My lifeblood, this blood.

كَم تَصرَم فَفَوتُ لُقياك

ظِمائي هَذي الدِماء

If you would paint, my hope would be

Your nighttime yearnings at dawn.

لَو تَرسُم يُصبِحُ جَدواك

اِرجائي لَيلُ الرَجاء

Or compose, in your beauty I would cast

Myself unto pastures of rest.

أَو تَنظُم في حُسنِ مَرآك

اِرمائي إِلى رِواء

I would revive a soul and heal

A heart immersed in its well.

لَأَحيا نَفساً وَعَلَّل

مِن قَلبِ فيهِ مَطاري

I love you, and love is worship,

So light me not afire.

أَهواك وَالهَوى عِبادَه

فَلا تَصِلني بِناري

I draw it near in love and it flees,

I draw it near in false dreams.

أَستَدنيهِ حُبّاً فَيَنزَح

وَيُدنيهِ زَورُ المَنامِ

A stray, like a well-trained horse it frolics,

Then is overwhelmed by the bridle’s touch.

بادي التيهِ كَالمُهرِ يَمرَح

فَيَطغيهِ مَسُّ اللِجامِ

The warbler sang in it and jested,

Then guided it, fevered by passion.

غَنَّت فيهِ غَيداءُ تَمزَح

فَتَهديهِ حُرَّ الغَرامِ

By Allah, O my trained birds

Among the empty plains.

بِاللَهِ يا طَيراً مُدَلَّل

سِربي وَسطَ القِفارِ

Beware what the necklace stirs in you,

Cast not an arrow upon my abode.

إِيّاكَ تُحَرِّكُ القِلادَه

تَرمي صُخَيرَةً بِداري