ماء الحياة بشعري ثمَّ منبعه
ما الشعر لم يَتَمثلْ كائنا حيا؟
The water of life is in my poetry, then its spring
What is poetry if it does not embody a living being?
على محياه يبدو وجْهُ صاحبه
إن اختفى وجه ذا فالشعر لا شيَّا
On his cheek appears the face of its owner
If the face of this one disappears, poetry is nothing
كن شاعرا يتمرأى في قصيدته
يراه قارئه يمشي بها مشيا
Be a poet who is reflected in his poem
His reader sees him walking with it
يجني القوافي من الإلهام يانعة
خيل القريض له تجري ولا تعيا
He reaps rhymes from inspiration ripely
The steeds of verse run for him without tiring
يسقيه من نبضه صدقا ويترعه
شدوا ومعنى جميلا يوقظ الوعيا
He quenches him from his pulse, sincerely, and makes him drink
Melody and beautiful meaning that awakens consciousness
لا يشبع المتلقي من فواكهه
و عنه ليس يطيق البعد والنأيا
The recipient is never sated by its fruits
And cannot bear distance or separation from it
هذا هو الشعر في أنقى معادنه
فاحذر به الشوْب يا ذا الذوقِ والليّا
This is poetry in its purest ores
So beware corrupting it, O refined and acute one
