ذَهَبَ الهَوَى بِمَخِيلَتِي وَشَبابِي
وَأَقَمْتُ بَيْنَ مَلاَمَةٍ وَعِتَابِ
Love has made off with my imagination and my youth,
and I have remained between censure and reproach.
هِيَ نَظْرَةٌ كَانَتْ حِبالَةَ خُدْعَةٍ
مَلَكَتْ عَلَيَّ بَدِيهَتي وَصَوابِي
It was a single glance—a treacherous snare—
that mastered my ready wit and sound judgment.
نَصَبَتْ حَبائِلَ هُدْبِهَا فَتَصَيَّدَتْ
قَلْبي فَراحَ فَرِيسَةَ الأَهْدابِ
She spread the snares of her lashes and caught
my heart, which became the eyelashes’ prey.
مَا كُنْتُ أَعْلَمُ قَبْلَ طَارِقَةِ الْهَوَى
أَنَّ الْعُيُونَ مَصايِدُ الأَلْبابِ
Before love’s sudden visitation, I never knew
that eyes are snares for discerning minds.
وَمِنَ الْعَجائِبِ في الْهَوَى أَنَّ الفَتَى
يُدْعَى إِلَيْهِ بِأَهْوَنِ الأَسْبَابِ
And one of love’s marvels is that a young man
is summoned to it on the slightest pretext.
فَارْبَحْ مَلامَكَ يَا عَذُولُ فَإِنَّنِي
راضٍ بِسُقْمِي فِي الْهَوَى وَعَذَابِي
So let your reproach rest, O censor, for I
am content with my love-sickness and my torment.
Sol 5.6