ظن العواذل أسلو طيب رياك

ما أغفل اليوم عذالي وذكاك

The reproachers think I will forget the sweetness of your fragrance.

How heedless my reproachers are today—and how discerning you!

يا غصن بان بها مال الهوى عبثا

لم لا لقدك لا اصبو وهواك

O bān-tree bough, playfully bent by breeze and passion,

why should I not yearn for your stature and your love?

اراك قد جرت اذ عنى عدلت فهل

اغواك واشيك او بالله اعداك

I see that you have wronged me by turning away; did

your slanderer beguile you—or, by God, your enemies?

جرحت بالهجر قلبي في الغرام ترى

لذاك عدلك المولى وسواك

Through desertion you have wounded my heart in love; do you think

it was for this that the Lord proportioned and fashioned you?

تميل عطفاك من سكر الصبا مرحا

سبحان من ببديع الحسن انشاك

Your supple sides sway, exuberant in youth’s intoxication—

glory be to Him who created you with such wondrous beauty.

سدلت حالك شعر كالظلام فما

ابهاك تحت دجى الليل واحلاك

You let fall pitch-dark hair, like darkness—how

splendid beneath the night’s gloom, and how sweet you are!

متى اراك ودهري بعد قسوته

رماك يا منيتي عندي والقاك

When shall I see you, with Time, after all its harshness,

casting you, my heart’s desire, near me and letting me meet you?

ان قلت بدراً فليس البدر غيرك او

اقول شمسا فليس الشمس الاك

If I call you a full moon, the full moon is none but you; or

if I say “a sun,” then the sun is none but you.

والبدر قال بان يحكيك قلت له

لي فاحك ما انت يا بدر الدجى حاكي

The full moon claimed that it resembled you. I told it,

“Then imitate him for me! O moon of the dark night, you are no likeness.”

فليس للشمس قسم من سناك ولا

لطلعة البدر جزؤ من محياك

The sun has no share in your radiance, nor

does the full moon’s face possess a portion of your countenance.

بل منك لليل جزؤ من سنا شعر

وللصباح نصيب من اثناياك

Rather, night receives from you a portion of the sheen of your hair,

and morning has a share in your gleaming front teeth.

قلبي طروب فلا لوم الام اذا

طربت عند سماعي طيب مفناك

My heart is rapturous, so no critic can blame me if

I thrill at hearing the sweetness of your singing.

بمجلس فيك مذ شببت ملت هوى

فكيف لو كان هذا عند مغناك

In a gathering, when I sang a love prelude of you, I swayed with passion—

what then, if this had been at your own abode of song?

سكنت قلباً به اضرمت نار غضا

ماذا يضرك لو اكرمت مثواك

You have made your home in a heart where you kindled a fire of ghada wood;

what would it cost you to honor your dwelling?