لقد كان شيخ بالكرامة يذكر — Rashid Ayoub

لَقَد كان شَيخٌ بالكرامةِ يُذكَرُ

يدقّ على عُودٍ فَيَسبي ويسحُرُ

There once was an old man remembered with honor,

Who strummed an oud, captivating and enchanting.

وكان برغدِ العيشِ ينهَى ويأمُرُ

فَأخنى عَلَيهِ الدهرُ والدهرُ يغدرُ

In the ease of his life, he forbade and commanded;

Then time laid him low—and time is treacherous.

وَخانَتهُ أيامٌ بُعَيد مشيبِ

فَحَارَبَ بالصّبرِ الجميلِ زمانَهُ

The days betrayed him soon after his hair turned gray.

He battled his times with gracious patience,

عسى أنَّ هذا الصّبرَ يُصلح شانَهُ

فلمّا ابتُلي بالوُلدِ عَضّ بَنانَهُ

Hoping this patience might set his affairs right.

But when he was tried by his children, he bit his fingertips,

وَفَارَقَهُ صَبرٌ لَدَيهِ وَخانَهُ

فأصبحَ مطرُوداً أسيرَ خطوبِ

And the patience he possessed deserted and betrayed him.

He became an outcast, captive to calamities.

فَخَلّى عن الدّنيَا وملّ عِبَادَها

وتاهَ بأرض اللهِ يطوي وهادَها

He forsook the world and wearied of its people,

And wandered God's earth, crossing its lowlands.

فضاقَت بهِ الدّنيَا فذمّ ودادَها

ولمّا خَلا بالنفس رامَ رشادَها

The world closed in upon him, and he condemned its affection.

Alone with his soul, he sought to guide it aright,

فقال لها يا نفس ويحك ذوبي

فحِيناً تَرَى بينَ الجبالِ ظُهورَهُ

And said to it, ‘O soul, alas for you—melt away!’

At times you see him appear among the mountains,

وتسمَع بالوِديانِ طَوراً زفيرَهُ

يجولُ وذاك العُودُ أضحى سميرَهُ

And at others hear his sighing in the valleys.

He roams, and that oud has become his evening companion,

رفيقاً لَهُ في النّائِبَاتِ مُجِيرَهُ

على صَدرِه قد ضَمّه كحبِيبِ

His comrade in calamities, his protector.

He has clasped it to his breast like a beloved.

فَجَاءَ إِلى نهرٍ لِيَجلِسَ مَرّةً

وينفي هموماً ضايقَته وحسرةُ

Once he came to a river to sit,

And banish the cares and sorrow that oppressed him.

فلمّا رَأى ماءً وصَادفَ خُضرَةً

وضمّ إِلَيهِ العودَ أرسلَ عَبرَةً

When he saw water and came upon greenery,

He drew the oud to himself and let a tear fall,

وحنّ إِلى الماضي حنينَ غريبِ

وما زالَ تَذكارَ الشبابِ يُرَدِّدُ

And yearned for the past with a stranger's longing.

He kept repeating memories of youth,

ويَذرفُ دَمعاً والحَشا تَتَوَقّدُ

يقولُ لِنَهرٍ ماؤهُ يَتَجَعّدُ

Shedding tears while his heart blazed,

Saying to a river whose waters rippled:

سَلامٌ على نهرٍ غليلي يُبَرِّدُ

إِذا جئتُهُ أُنهي عناء كروبي

‘Peace upon a river that cools my burning thirst;

When I come to it, I end the torment of my sorrows.’

فلمّا انبَرى هذي الحَياةَ يودّعُ

ويَنحرُ نفساً طالَ منها توَجّعُ

Then, as he set about bidding this life farewell,

And slaying a soul that had suffered long,

وأرسلَ طَرفاً باهتاً يَتَطَلَّعُ

فَشاهَدَ ما مِنهُ الحَشَا تَتَقَطّعُ

He cast a vacant, searching gaze,

And saw what tears the heart apart,

وَيجزَعُ منهُ قلبُ كلّ رهيبِ

رَأى غَادةً حَسناءَ حارَ بأمرِها

And makes every fearful heart tremble.

He saw a lovely young woman whose plight bewildered him:

تلاعبُ أذيال النّسيمِ بشعرِهَا

فَكَفٌّ على خَدٍّ وكَفٌّ بصَدرها

The skirts of the breeze toyed with her hair;

One hand upon her cheek and one upon her breast,

وتَندُبُ كالخنساءِ فرقَةَ صَخرِها

وما من سمِيعٍ صوتها ومجيبِ

She lamented, like al-Khansa, parting from her Sakhr,

With no one to hear her voice or answer.

دنا الشيخُ منها وهوَ يَرثي جمالها

يخاطِبها نُصحاً لِيُنعمَ بالَها

The old man approached her, pitying her beauty,

Addressing her with counsel to ease her mind,

يسائلها لُطفاً لِتَشرَحَ حالَها

لَعَلّ هُمُوماً يَستطيعُ زوالَها

Gently asking her to explain her plight,

In hopes that he could dispel her cares,

فَتَبقى بعيش بالحياة خصيبِ

فقال لها هل أنتِ تائِهَةٌ هُنَا

So she might enjoy a fruitful life.

He said to her, ‘Are you lost here,

وتَبكينَ من فَرطِ المَشَقّةِ والعنَا

علامَ علامَ ذا البكاء وذا الضنى

Weeping from an excess of hardship and toil?

Why, why this weeping and this wasting grief?

بعيشك قولي هل تقطعت المُنى

وأنتِ كغصنٍ بالرّياض رَطيبِ

By your life, tell me: have your hopes been severed,

Though you are like a tender branch in the gardens?

فإن كان لا هل قد جفاك بصَدّه

حبيبٌ تَجَنّى في هوَاهُ وودّه

If not, has someone spurned you by turning away—

A beloved who wronged you in his love and affection?

لئن كان ذاكَ الخِلّ مان بوَعده

فصبراً على حكم الزمانِ وكَيده

If that close friend proved false to his promise,

Then bear patiently time's decree and its cunning;

فبالصبر تحلو حالُ كل لبيبِ

ولا ترفضي من ذي الحياة سرورها

For patience sweetens the lot of every wise person.

Do not reject the joys of this life,

وخلّي إِلى وقت المشيب ثبورها

أمَامك أيّامٌ حَذارِ غُرُورَها

And leave its woes until the time of gray hair.

Days lie before you—beware their deceit—

تخُطّ عَلَيها النّائِباتُ سُطورَهَا

زمان لديه الموت خير طبيبِ

Upon which calamities will write their lines:

A time when death is the best physician.’

فَهَمّت وقلبُ الشيخِ زادَ تَلهّبا

وَرَاحَ إِلى الحسنَاءِ يَبغي تَقَرّبا

She made a move, and the old man's heart burned more fiercely;

He went toward the beauty, seeking to draw near,

ومَدّ يَديهِ للفَتَاةِ تأدّبا

وقال بصَوتِ المُستَجيرِ تَحَبّبَا

And courteously stretched both hands toward the girl,

Speaking tenderly in the voice of one seeking refuge:

أجيبي ندائي يا ملاك أجيبي

فقالت وَدمعُ العينِ يجري بزَفرَة

‘Answer my call, O angel, answer!’

She said, while tears flowed from her eyes with a sigh:

أيا شيخ دعني الآن أقضي بحسرة

فمن حادث الأيام أني بسكرَة

‘O old man, leave me now to die in sorrow;

The days' calamity has left me in a stupor.

لعلي إذا م امتّ أحظى بنَظرَة

هنالك ممن مات وهو نصيبي

Perhaps, when I die, I may be granted a glimpse,

There, of the one who died, who is my destined love.

فَواللهِ قد خَلّفتُ أهلي ومنزلي

أرومُ انفصالَ النفس مني بمعزلِ

By God, I have left my family and my home,

Seeking, in seclusion, my soul's departure from me.

فَوَاهاً حبيبي ماتَ أمس وليس لي

سوَى حسرَتي من بعده وتذللي

Ah! My beloved died yesterday, and I have nothing

But my grief after him, and my abasement.

فيا ما أُحَيلى الموتَ بعد حبيبي

وما برحت تشكو الزمانَ وما جرى

Oh, how very sweet death is after my beloved!’

She went on lamenting time and all that had happened,

وتَبكي انتحاباً والفؤادُ تَسَعّرا

فيا ليتَ عَنها ما سمعتَ ولن تَرى

Weeping and sobbing, her heart ablaze.

Would that you had never heard of her, nor would ever see

بكاها وذاك الشيخ فيها تحيّرَا

وأحشاؤه ذابت بحرّ لهيبِ

Her weeping; that old man stood bewildered by her,

And his inward parts melted in the blaze's heat.

فَلَمّا دعاها للمَسنونِ المُقَدَّرُ

رَمَت نفسَها في النَهرِ والشيخُ ينظرُ

When fate called her to the ordained course,

She cast herself into the river as the old man watched.

وآخِرُ ما قالت أموتُ وأُعذَرُ

عسى الله يعفو عن فعالي ويغفرُ

Her last words were, ‘I die, and may I be excused;

May God pardon my deeds and forgive,

ويصفحُ عن مثلي ويمحو ذنوبي

هيَ النفسُ إن مَلّت وزادَ عَناؤها

Pardon one like me, and erase my sins.’

Such is the soul: when it grows weary and its suffering increases,

وفازَ على طيبِ الحَياةِ شَقاؤهَا

يقولُ على الدنيَا السلام رَجاؤها

And its misery overcomes the sweetness of life,

Its hope bids the world farewell.

كذا نفس ذاك الشيخ عزّ عزاؤها

فوَدّعَ عوداً قائلاً بنحيبِ

So too that old man's soul was past consoling,

And he bade his oud farewell, saying through sobs:

أيا سَلوَةَ الأحزانِ فيها تَوَلَّعَت

عَواطفُ أهل العشق حين تضعضعت

‘O solace of sorrows, in which were kindled

The passions of lovers when they faltered;

فَلَولاك آمالي قديماً تَقَطّعَت

فكم راحةٍ لي فيك منك توسّعَت

Without you, my hopes would long ago have been severed.

How much solace for me, in you and from you, has grown,

وكم قلتَ للنفس الحزينة طيبي

فأنت الذي يَبكي بغير دموعِهِ

And how often you told the grieving soul, “Be at peace!”

For you are the one who weeps without tears,

حُنُوَاً وسكنى الحبّ طيّ ضلوعه

فكم نحتَ مُشتاقاً قضى بولوعِهِ

In tenderness, with love dwelling within your ribs.

How often you mourned a yearning lover who died of his passion,

حزيناً تَفانى في الهَوى بخضوعهِ

بلحنٍ هواه العاشقون مذيبِ

Sorrowful, consumed in love through his surrender,

With a melting melody that lovers cherished.

ويا مُؤنسي بعد انفرادي وغربتي

لقد كنتَ في الضّراءِ فارجَ كربتي

And O my companion after my solitude and estrangement,

In adversity, you were the reliever of my anguish.

ولم تكُ إِلاّ فيك لا عنك رغبتي

فأنت مقيمٌ في حضُوري وغَيبَتي

My desire was only for you, never to turn from you.

You abide with me in my presence and my absence,

بصَدرٍ إِلى يوم النشور رحيبِ

عسى الريح إن هَبّت تمِيلُ وتعطفُ

In a spacious breast, until the Day of Resurrection.

May the wind, when it blows, bend and turn,

وتحتكّ بالأوتارِ منكَ فترجُفُ

فيسري حنينٌ بالهَواءِ ويلطُفُ

And brush against your strings, so they tremble,

So a yearning strain drifts through the air and grows gentle,

ويلمسُ روحي في الفضاءِ ويألفُ

فسوفَ تطيرُ الريحُ عما قريبِ

And touches my soul in the open sky, befriending it.

For soon the wind will take flight.

ويا ريشَةٌ تُملي معاني شعورها

فتجلو لنَا الأوتارُ ما في ضميرِهَا

And O plectrum, dictating the meanings of your feelings,

The strings reveal to us what lies within your heart.

ويُظهر معنى الحبّ ما في سطورها

وما أخفَتِ الرّنّاتُ عند مسيرها

What lies in your lines reveals the meaning of love,

As does what the ringing notes conceal as they pass.

عليك سلامٌ في الضحى وغروبِ

وجادَت دموعُ الشيخِ تهمي بسكبها

Peace upon you at morning light and sunset.’

The old man's tears flowed freely, pouring down,

وضاقَت به الدنيا بواسع رحبِها

فألقى بنَفسٍ تَبتَغي عَفوَ ربّها

And the world, for all its vastness, closed in upon him.

Then he cast himself forth, a soul seeking its Lord's pardon,

تهيمُ اشتياقاً نحو مركزِ قطبِها

وقلبٍ إِلى دارِ البقاءِ طروبِ

Wandering in longing toward the center of its pole,

And a heart yearning joyfully for the abode of eternity.