وَرَدَ الكتابُ فضاعَ طيّبُ نَشرِهِ

وطَرِبتُ قبلَ نظامهِ من نثرِهِ

The book arrived, its fragrance dispersed as it spread,

And I was delighted by its prose before its systematic arrangement.

أحيا بزَورتهِ الفُؤادَ كأنَّما

في كلِّ سَطرٍ وجهُ كاتبِ سطرِهِ

It revived my heart as if in every line,

There was the face of the author of that line.

شخَصَتْ لهُ أبصارُ عينِ محبِّهِ

حتى كأنَّ سَوادَها من حِبرِهِ

Eyes of its lover stared at it,

As if their blackness was from its ink.

وتذكَّرَ العهدَ القديمَ متيَّمٌ

لَقِيَ الجِنايةَ والجَنَى من ذِكرِهِ

A longing one remembered the old days,

He met persecution and attained comfort from its mention.

يا مَن يطارحُني القريضَ فكاهةً

هيهاتِ قد ذَهَبَ القريضُ بعصرِهِ

O you who jokes with poetry to me,

Alas, poetry and its era have passed away.

والشعِرُ من أرَبِ الصَباءِ وأين لي

أسفاً ومَن لي بالصَباءِ وشعِرِهِ

Poetry is from the folly of youth, and where can I,

Regretfully, find youth or its poetry.

غَلَبَ المشيبُ على الشَبابِ بأبيضٍ

ذَلِقٍ فصارَ سوادُهُ في أسْرِهِ

Gray hair has overcome youth with whiteness,

Smooth, so its blackness is captured.

ضيفٌ على رأْسي حَمَلتُ ثقيلَهُ

وقَريتُهُ طِيبَ الحياةِ بأسرِهِ

A guest on my head, I carried its heaviness,

And hosted it, enjoying life in its entirety.

ولقد عَجِبتُ لمادحٍ لم يَهْجُني

كَرَمُ الطبيعةِ كانَ آيةَ عُذرِهِ

I'm amazed by one who didn't satirize me,

The generosity of nature was a sign of his excuse.

أمسى يَشُقُّ عليَّ تسليمٌ لهُ

ويَشُقُّ إنكارٌ لِرِفعةِ قدرِهِ

It has become difficult for me to accept surrender to him,

And it is difficult to deny the loftiness of his worth.

خَبَرٌ تداوَلَهُ الرُواةُ فأكبروا

وهوَ الصغيرُ إذا هَمَمتَ بخُبْرِهِ

A report circulated by narrators who exaggerated it,

While it was small when you considered its core.

لا تُعطِ حُكمَكَ ما بدا لكَ أمرُهُ

حتى تقومَ على حقيقةِ أمرِهِ

Do not give your judgement on what first appears to you,

Until you stand on the truth of the matter.

خيرُ الكلامِ كلامُ صِدقٍ نافعٌ

وأجلُّهُ في الشِعرِ فَهْوَ كذُرخرِهِ

The best words are truthful beneficial words,

And the greatest of them in poetry are like its pearls.

مَن ضاعَ أكثرُ شِعرِهِ في باطلٍ

فكأنما قد ضاعَ أكثرُ عُمرِهِ

One whose poetry is mostly vain,

It is as if most of his life is lost.

مرَّتْ بناصيتي الخُطوبُ فراعَها

جَلَدي وروَّعني الزَمانُ بمكرِهِ

Hardships have passed by my forelock and startled me,

My skin shuddered and time frightened me with its deception.

ولَرُبَّما سَلِمَ الفتى مِمَّا دَرَى

ورَمَتْهُ داهيةٌ بما لم يَدرِهِ

And sometimes the youth is safe from what he supposes,

While a wicked one hits him with what he did not expect.

ولَرُبَّ أشْيبَ في الكُهولةِ غافلٌ

ولَرُبَّ أمرَدَ عاقلٌ في صِغْرِهِ

And sometimes an ignorant one grows gray in adulthood,

While an intelligent one flourishes in his youth.

هيهاتِ ما قلبُ الفتَى في سنِّهِ

أبداً ولكنْ قلبُهُ في صَدرِهِ

Alas, the heart of a youth is never in his age,

But rather his heart is in his chest.

يا مَن رَضعتَ الحِلمَ من أفواقِهِ

ورَبيتَ في مَهدِ الكمالِ وحَجْرِهِ

O you who suckled wisdom from its springs,

And was nurtured in the cradle of perfection and its neighborhood.

قد نِلتَ ما مُنِعَ الكثيرُ وطالما

فَضَلَتْ ليالي الدَهرِ ليلةُ قَدْرِهِ

You have attained what many were deprived of,

And the nights of time's superiority were like its night of destiny.

والنَّاسُ منهم كاسبٌ قد غاصَ في

خيرِ الزَّمانِ وخاسرٌ في شرِّهِ

And people are of two kinds, one who profits,

Plunging into the goodness of time, and one who loses in its evil.

فإذا اعتبرتَ الجانبَينِ كِلَيْهما

أقصَرتَ عن شكوى الزَمانِ وشُكرِهِ

So if you consider both sides together,

You fall short of complaining about time or thanking it.