يَا قَاتَل اللَّهُ كُتَّابَ الدَّوَاوِيْنِ

مَا يَسْتَجِيْزُونَ مِنْ كَسْرِ السَّكَاكِيْنِ

O killer of scribes

Who gain nothing from breaking pens

لَقَدْ دَهَانِي لَطِيْفٌ مِنْهُمُ خَتِلٌ

فِي ذَاتِ حَدٍّ كَحَدِّ السَّيْفِ مَسْنُونِ

One of them has wronged me, a wily one

With a sharp tongue like a sharpened sword

فَابَتَزَّنِيْهَا وَلَمْ أَشْعُرْ بِهِ عَبَثَاً

وَلَسْتُ لَوْ سَاءَنِي ظَنٌّ بِمَغْبُونِ

He took me unawares though I felt nothing

I'd not feel cheated, though suspicions rose

وَأَقْفَرَتْ بَعْدَ عُمْرَانٍ بِمَوْقِعِهَا

مِنْهَا دَوَاةُ فَتًى بِالْكُتْبِ مَقْتُونِ

After its heyday, the place lies deserted

Home of a lad bound fast to his books

يَبْكِي عَلَى مُدْيَةٍ أَوْدَى الزَّمَانُ بِهَا

كَانَتْ عَلَى جَائِرِ الأَيَّامِ تُعْدِيْنِي

Who weeps for a city time has destroyed

That once controlled wayward fortunes

كَانَتْ تُقَوِّمث أَقْلاَمِي وَتَنْحِتُهَا

بَرْيَاً وَتُسْخِطُهَا قَطَّاً فَتُرْضِيْنِي

It set my pens straight and carved them

Well, rejecting the flawed, pleasing me

وَأُضْحِكُ الطِّرْسَ وَالقِرْطَاسَ عَنء حُلَلٍ

تَنُوبُ لِلْعَيْنِ عَنْ نَوْرِ البَسَاتِيْنِ

I made parchment and paper laugh through fine garments

That delighted the eye like garden blooms

وَإِنْ قَشَرْتُ بِهَا سَوْدَاءَ مِنْ صُحُفِي

عَادَتْ كَبَعْضِ خُدُودِ الخُرَّدِ العِيْنِ

And if I scraped the dark from my pages

They returned like some gazelles' dark eyes

جَزْعُ النَّصَابِ لَطِيْفَاتٌ شَعَائِرُهَا

مُحَسَّنَاتٌ بِأَصْنَافِ التَّحَاسِيْنِ

Coffers of provisions are delicate things

Beauties with all kinds of ornaments

هَيْفَاءُ مُرْهَفَةٌ بَيْضَاءُ مُذْهَبَةٌ

قَالَ الإِلهُ لَهَا سُبْحَانَهُ كُونِي

Slender, fair, gilded

God said "Be!" and it was

مَخْطُوفَةُ الخَصْرِ تَحْكِي فِي تَخَصُّرِهَا

خَصْرَ البَدِيْعِ بَدِيْعٌ فِي الخَفَاتِيْنِ

Her cinched waist relates in its cinching

The waist of creativity—creative in its slenderiness

كَأَنَّهَا حِيْنَ يَشْجِيْنِي تَذَكُرُهَا

فِي القَلْبِ مِنِّي وَفِي الأَحْشَاءِ تَفْرِيْنِي

It's as if, when passion seizes me, she remembers

In my heart and penetrates my deepest places

لَكِنَّ مِقَطِّي أَمْسَى شَامِتَاً جَذِلاً

وَكَانَ فِي ذِلَّةٍ مِنْهَا وَفِي هُونِ

But my critic has become gloating and craven

And felt only humility and abasement from her

فَصِيْنَ حَتَّى يُضَاهِي فِي صَيَانَتِهِ

جَاهِي لِصَوْنِيْهِ عَمَّنْ لاَ يُدَانِيْنِي

Guard her so your guarding rivals

My zeal to protect her from those who envy me

فَلَسْتُ عَنْهَا بِسَالٍ مَا حَيِيْتُ وَلاَ

بِوَاجِدٍ عِوَضَاً مِنْهَا يُسَلِّيْنِي

I cannot forget her, alive,

Or find a substitute to console me

فَلَو يَرُدُّ فِدَاءٌ مَا فُجِعْتُ بِهِ

مِنْهَا فَدَيْنَاهُ بِالدُّنْيَا وَبِالدِّيْنِ

If a ransom could redeem my grief for her

We'd ransom her with world and religion.

صحوت عن كل شيء كان يعجبني

الاستماع أحاديث المحبينا

I have awoken from everything that pleased me

Listening to lovers' tales

إذا شكا بعضهم وحداً بكيت له

وإن دعا قلت بالاخلاص أمينا

When one complained of loneliness, I wept for him

If he prayed I sincerely said "Amen"

مَا ذَاكَ إِلاَّ لأَنِّي قَدْ لَقِيْتُ كَمَا

لاَقُوْا وَكَابَدْتُ مَا قَدْ كَابَدُوا حِيْنَا

That is only because I, like them,

Have suffered what they suffered once

لَكِنَّنِي لَمْ يَكُنْ لِي مَنْ يَسَاعِدُنِي

وَهَا أَنَا مُسْعِدٌ مَنْ كَانَ مَحْزُونَا

But there was no one to help me

While I give aid to those in sadness