لا وجُفونٍ يَنْفُثْنَ في العُقَدِ
وحُسْنِ ثَغْرٍ يَلُوحُ كالبَرَدِ
No eyelids shedding tears in knots,
No beauty of a mouth that shines like hail,
والهيفَ المستعارِ من غُصُنِ ال
بانَةَ ذي الانْثِنَاءِ والغَيَدِ
No borrowed garment from a waving branch,
Of one bending and swaying.
لا كُنْتُ ممن يُضِيْعُ دَمْعَتَهُ
بينَ الأَثَافي والنُّؤَى والوَتَدِ
I'm not one who wastes his tears,
Between ruins, yearnings, and tent pegs.
جانَبَ سِقْطَ اللَّوَى سُقُوطُ حَياً
يُكْسَى به ثَوْبَ عيشَةٍ رَغَدِ
Besides falling misfortune, life falls
Wearing a dress of blissful living.
ولا سَقَى الغيثُ دارً مَيَّةَ بال
عَلْيَاءِ كَلاًّ يُدَاكُ والسَّنَدِ
Nor did rain water a lofty house,
Haughty, it leaks and relies on props.
أحسنُ من وقْفَةٍ على طَلَلٍ
قَفْرٍ وذِكْرِ العيْرَانَةِ الأُجُدِ
Better than standing at an empty ruin,
Remembering friends now departed.
كأسُ مُدَامٍ جَلاَ المُدِيْرُ بِهَا
أُمُّ اللَّيَالي وجَدَّةُ الأَبَدِ
A cup of wine the vintner offered,
Mother of nights and grand dame of eternity.
نَشْرَبُها شُعلةً بلا لَهَبٍ
ونَجْتَلِيْهَا رُوحاً بلا جَسَدِ
We drink it aflame without fire,
And enjoy it a spirit without body.
هل أحدٌ نَالَ مثل لذتِنَا
بِدَيْرِ مُرّانَ ليلةَ الأحَدِ
Has anyone attained a joy like ours,
In the monastery of Murreh, Sunday eve?
يا طيْبَ يومي به وأمْسِ ويا
حُسْنَ غَدي بَعْدَهُ وبَعْدَ غْدِ
Oh goodness of my day through it and yesterday,
And beauty of my tomorrow and the day after.
حدائقٌ فَوْق جَدْوَلٍ صَخِبْ
وبانَةٌ تحتَ طائرٍ غَرِدٍ
Gardens atop a clamorous brook,
And a grove beneath a warbling bird.
وخالِعٌ يشتري المَجَانَةَ بال
عِفّةِ فيه والغيَّ بالرَّشَدِ
A monk buys freely and in virtue,
Chastely and sagely therein.
سَقْياً لماخُورِ حارِثٍ ولما
خُصّ به من محاسِنٍ حُرُدِ
To water what Khareeth owns, and what
He specially gained in fine horses.
قلتُ لهُ وابنُهُ يطوف بِهَا
عَمْرَك فِيْنَا عمارَةُ البَلَدِ
I said to him, and his son circled them:
"Through you our land prospers."
بابنِكَ ذا في جمالِ صورَتِه
صِرْتَ أبا الظَّبْي لا أبا الأَسَدِ
Through your son’s beauty of form,
You became the gazelle’s not the lion’s father."
بورِكْتَ من والدٍ وبورِكُ يا
حارثُ عبدُ المسيحِ من وَلَدِ
May you be blessed, o father,
And blessed Khareeth, Christ’s servant, through your son.
ها فاسْقِنيها صِرْفاً فإن سَفَكَتْ
دَمي فما لي عَلَيْكَ مِنْ قَوَدِ
Serve it to me pure, and if she spills
My blood, I have no claim of wergild from you,
والشَّرْبُ من قابضٍ على رَشَأِ الرْ
رَملةِ حُسْناً وظَبْيَةِ الجِيْدِ
Drinking from one firmly grasping the pole
Of the tent, fair, and graceful of neck.
ورافِعِ الصَّوْتِ بالغِنَاءِ فَهَلْ
يُؤْنِسُ دون البَلْقَاءِ من أحَدٍ
Raising his voice in song, is there anyone
To cheer save the talented singing girl?
زمانُ لهْوٍ مضى وكانَ وقَدْ
فارقْتُهُ مِنْ أعزِّ مُفْتَقَدِ
An era of leisure passed, and it was
The dearest of those I miss.
