مَالي وللجبلِ الأغَرّ وإنّما

كلّ الهوَى جبلٌ أشمّ بَهيمُ

What care I for the lofty mountain when

All desire is a perfumed hill,

موفٍ على أرضِ الشّآمِ كأنّما

جُونُ السحائب في ذُرَاهُ جُثُومُ

Shrouded in the land of Syria as though

The rain clouds with their showers were still,

ما زال مَطْرَحَ نَاظِرِي حتى إذا

لاحَت بفَودِي للمَشيبِ نُجومُ

It remained the resting place for my eyes until

When my temples were adorned with starry signs of old age.

فَارقتُه ونأيتُ عنه وما نَأى

وجْدِي به وهوَى الكريمِ كريمُ

I left it and withdrew from it, but never

Withdrew my love, for the noble one is noble.

فإذا ذكرتُ النّازِلِينَ بِسَهْلهِ

وبهم وإن شَطّت نَوَايَ أهِيمُ

When I remember those who camped on its plains

And they, though the paths of purpose diverge, I rave.

دارَت بي الأرضُ الفضاءُ كأنّما

بِي المُومُ أو لَعِبتْ بِيَ الخُرطُومُ

The earth and the firmament spin as if

I were dizzy or stung by a hornet.