خُلَيْقانِ هَلْهالانِ لا خَيْرَ فيهما

إِذا هَبَّتِ الأَرواحُ يَصْطَفِقانِ

Ghosts of past ruins, no good in them,

When the winds blow, they quiver and shake,

رِواقانِ تَهْوي الرِّيحُ فوق ذَراهما

وباللّيلِ يسري فيهما الْيَرَقانِ

Corridors where the winds howl over their particles,

And at night the vipers slither through them,

ولم أَتْبَعِ الأَظْعانَ في رَوْنَقِ الضُّحى

ورَحْلي على نهّاضةِ الخَدَيانِ

Nor did I follow the gazelles at dawn’s blossom,

My journey was on the cheeks of the beauties,

ولا خَطَرَتْ عَنْسٌ بِأَغْبَرَ نازِحٍ

ولا ما نَحَتْ عينايَ في الهَمَلانِ

No graceful doe crossed my mind,

Nor what my eyes engraved on the sand dunes,

كَأَنَهما هَزْمانِ من مُسْتَشِنَّةٍ

يُسَدّانِ أَحْياناً ويَنْفَجِرانِ

As if they were remnants of worn out tents,

At times sealed, at others bursting open,

أَرى طائِرَيَّ الأَوَّلَيْنِ تَبَدَّلا

إِليَّ فما لي منهما بَدَلانِ

I see my two early birds changed,

To me, so I have no substitute for them,

أَحَصّانِ من نَحْوِ الأَسافِلِ جُرّدا

أَلِفّانِ مِنْ أَعلاهما هَدِيانِ

They counted me from below barefoot,

While from above, they were two guides,

لِعَفْراءَ إِذْ في الدّهْرِ والنّاسِ غَرَّةٌ

وإِذْ حُلُقانا بالصِّبا يَسَرانِ

To a blond, as time and people are fickle,

And as we orbited in childhood blissfully,

لأَدْنُوَ مِنْ بيضاءَ خفّاقَةِ الحشا

بُنَيَّةِ ذي قاذورةٍ شَنآنِ

So I may approach the white fluttering of the courtyard,

Of evil intention, hostility and malice,

كَأَنَّ وِشاحَيْها إِذا ما ارْتَدَتْهما

وقامتْ عِنانا مُهرَةٍ سَلِسانِ

As if her cheeks when she dons the veil,

And stands with the composure of a gentle mare,

يَعَضُّ بِأَبْدانٍ لها مُلْتَقاهما

ومَثْناهُما رِخْوانِ يَضْطَرِبانِ

Bite bodies that meet them,

And their flexing is of swaying branches,

وتَحْتَهما حِقْفانِ قد ضَرَبَتْهما

قِطارٌ مِنَ الجوزاءِ مُلْتَبِدانِ

Under them two dimples, stricken,

By a line of beauty marks, overflowing,

أَعَفْراءُ كم مِنْ زَفْرَةِ قد أَذَقْتِني

وحزْنٍ أَلَجَّ العيْنَ بالهَمَلانِ

Blondie, how many sighs you have let me taste,

And sorrows that squeezed the eyes with sadness,

فَلَوْ أَنَّ عَيْنَيْ ذي هوىً فاضَتا دَماً

لَفاضَتْ دَماً عينايَ تَبْتَدِرانِ

If my lovesick eyes shed blood instead of tears,

They would shed blood copiously, pouring out,

فَهَلْ حادِيا عفراءَ إِنْ خِفْتَ فَوْتَها

عَليَّ إِذا نادَيْتُ مُرعَوِيانِ

So, my two companions, if you fear her loss,

Cry out to me, when calling out longingly,

ضَروبانِ للتّالي القطوفِ إذا وَنى

مُشيحانِ من بَغْضائِنا حَذِرانِ

alternate rhythms for the wandering gaze, when it languishes,

Vigilant of our hatred, cautious.