أخلاي بالفيحاء إن طال بعدكم — Safi Al Din Al Hilli

أَخِلّايَ بِالفَيحاءِ إِن طالَ بُعدُكُم

فَأَنتُم إِلى قَلبي كَسِحرِيَ مِن نَحري

My friends in al-Fayha, though your absence grows long,

you are as close to my heart as my lungs are to my throat.

وَإِن يَخلُ مِن تِكرارِ ذِكري حَديثُكُمُ

فَلَم يَخلُ يَوماً مِن مَديحِكُم شِعري

Though your talk may lack repeated mention of me,

my verse has never lacked your praise for a single day.

فَوَاللَهِ لا يَشفي نَزيفَ هَواكُمُ

سِوى خَمرِ أُنسٍ كانَ مِنكُم بِها سُكري

By God, nothing heals one drunk with love for you

but the wine of fellowship from you, with which I grew drunk.

أَرى كُلَّ ذي داءٍ يُداوى بِضَدِّهِ

وَلَيسَ يُداوى ذو الخُمارِ بِلا خَمرِ

I see every sufferer treated with his ailment's opposite,

yet a man with a hangover is not cured without wine.

أُطالِبُ نَفسِيَ بِالتَصَبُّرِ عَنكُمُ

وَأَوَّلُ ما أُفقِدتُ بَعدَكُم صَبري

I ask my soul to endure separation from you,

and the first thing I lost after you was my patience.

فَإِن كانَ عَصرُ الأُنسِ مِنكُم قَدِ اِنقَضى

فَوَالعَصرِ إِنّي بَعدَ ذَلِكَ في خُسرِ

So if the age of fellowship with you has passed,

then, by Time, I am in loss after that.

بَكَيتُ لِفَقدِ الأَربَعِ الخُضرِ مِنكُم

عَلى الرَملَةِ الفَيحاءِ بِالأَربِعِ الحُمرِ

I wept for the loss of your green dwellings

over spacious al-Ramla, at the red dwellings.

فَكَيفَ بَقِيَ إِنسانُ عَيني وَقَد مَضى

عَلى ذَلِكَ الإِنسانُ حينٌ مِنَ الدَهرِ

How has my eye's pupil survived, when there has passed

over that little man a span of time?

سَقى رَوضَةَ السَعدِيِّ مِن أَرضِ بابِلٍ

سَحابٌ ضَحوكُ البَرقِ مُنتَحِبُ القَطرِ

May al-Sa'di's garden in the land of Babylon be watered

by a cloud laughing with lightning and sobbing with rain.

وَحَيّا الحَيا مَغنىً قَضَيتُ بِرَبعِهِ

فُروضَ الصِبا ما بَينَ رَملَةَ وَالجِسرِ

And may the rain greet a dwelling in whose precincts I fulfilled

the duties of youth, between Ramla and the bridge.

وَرُبَّ نَسيمٍ مَرَّ لي مِن دِيارِكُم

فَفاحَ لَنا مِن طَيِّةِ طَيِّبُ النَشرِ

And many a breeze has passed my way from your homes,

and from its fold a sweet fragrance wafted to us.

وَأَذكَرَني عَهداً وَما كُنتُ ناسِياً

وَلَكِنَّهُ تَجديدُ ذِكرٍ عَلى ذِكرِ

And it reminded me of an old bond, though I had not forgotten,

but this was memory renewed upon memory.

فَيا أَيُّها الشَيخُ الَّذي عَقدُ حُبِّهِ

تَنَزَّلَ مِنّي مَنزِلَ الروحِ مِن صَدري

So, O sheikh, the bond of whose love

has settled in me like the soul within my breast:

تُجاذِبُني الأَشواقُ نَحوَ دِيارِكُم

وَأَحذَرُ مِن كَيدِ العَدُوِّ الَّذي يَدري

longings pull me toward your homes,

and I beware the plots of the enemy who knows,

مَخافَةَ مَذّاقِ اللِسانِ يُسَرُّ لي

ضُروبَ الرَدى بَينَ البَشاشَةِ وَالبِشرِ

fearing a false-tongued man who conceals for me

kinds of ruin amid cheerfulness and smiles.

وَيَنثُرُ لي حَبَّ الوَفاءِ تَمَلَّقاً

وَيَنصُبُ لي مِن تَحتِهِ شَرَكَ الغَدرِ

He scatters for me the grain of loyalty in flattery,

and beneath it sets for me the snare of betrayal.

وَما أَنا مَن يُلقي إِلى الحَتفِ نَفسَهُ

وَيَجهَدُ في اِستِخلاصِها مِنهُ بِالقَسرِ

I am not one who casts himself into death

and then labors to wrench himself free from it by force.

إِذا كانَ ذِكرُ المَرءِ شَيخَ حَياتِهِ

فَإِنَّ طَريفَ المالِ كَالواوِ في عَمرِو

If a man's renown is the master of his life,

then newly gained wealth is like the silent waw in 'Amr.

وَلَكِن لي في مارِدَينِ مَعاشِراً

شَدَدتُ بِهِم لَمّا حَلَلتُ بِها أَزري

But I have companions in Mardin

through whom I strengthened my back when I settled there.

مُلوكٌ إِذاّ أَلقى الزَمانُ حِبالَهُ

جَعَلتُهُمُ في كُلِّ نائِبَةٍ ذُخري

Kings—whenever Time casts its ropes,

I make them my reserve in every calamity.

وَما أَحدَثَت أَيدي الزَمانِ إِساءَةً

وَوافَيتُهُم إِلّا اِنتَقَمتُ مِنَ الدَهرِ

Never have the hands of Time inflicted harm

without my avenging it on Time when I came to them.

إِذا جِئتُهُم مُستَصرِخاً حَقَنوا دَمي

وَإِن جِئتُهُم مُستَجدِياً وَفَروا وَفري

If I come to them crying for help, they spare my blood,

and if I come begging, they increase my wealth.

عَزائِمُ مَن لَم يَخشَ بِالبَطشِ مِن رَدىً

وَإِنعامُ مَن لَم يَخشَ بِالجودِ مِن فَقرِ

The resolve of those who fear no death when striking,

and the bounty of those who fear no poverty when giving.

وَرَوَّوا بِماءِ الجودِ غَرسَ أَبيهِمُ

فَأَينَعَ في أَغصانِهِ ثَمَرُ الشُكرِ

They watered their father's planting with the water of generosity,

and the fruit of gratitude ripened upon its branches.

وَقَلَّدَني السُلطانُ مِنهُ بِأَنعُمٍ

أَخَفَّ بِها نَهضي وَإِن أَثقَلَت ظَهري

And the sultan hung his own favors about my neck,

with which he eased my rising, though they weighed upon my back.

هُوَ الصالِحُ المَلكُ الَّذي صَلُحَت بِهِ

أُمورُ الوَرى وَاِستُبدِلَ العُسرُ بِاليُسرِ

He is al-Salih, the king through whom were set right

the affairs of humankind, and hardship was replaced by ease.

يَبيتُ بِها كَفّي عَلى الفَتحِ بَعدَما

بَنَت نُوَبُ الأَيّامِ قَلبي عَلى الكَسرِ

Through them my palm stays open through the night, after

the blows of days had built my heart upon brokenness.

وَبُدِّلتُ مِن دُهمِ اللَيالي وَغَيرِها

لَدَيهِ بِأَيّامٍ مُحَجَّلَةٍ غُرِّ

And in place of jet-black nights and their vicissitudes I was given,

in his presence, white-stockinged, white-blazed days.

حَطَطتُ رِحالي في رَبيعِ رُبوعِهِ

وَلَولاهُ لَم أَثنِ الأَعِنَّةَ عَن مِصري

I set down my saddlebags in the springtime of his dwellings,

and but for him, I would not have turned the reins away from my city.

مَنازِلُ ما لاقَيتُ فيها نَدامَةً

سِوى أَنَّني قَضيتُ في غَيرِها عُمري

Dwellings in which I felt no regret,

except that I had spent my life elsewhere.

فَلَم يَكُ كَالفِردَوسِ غَيرُ سَميّهِ

مِنَ الخُلدِ لا خُلدُ الخَليفَةِ وَالقَصرِ

Nothing was like al-Firdaws except its namesake

in eternal Paradise—not the caliph's al-Khuld or the palace.

وَوادٍ حَكى الخَنساءَ لا في شُجونِها

وَلَكِن لَهُ عَينانِ تَجري عَلى صَخرِ

And a valley resembling al-Khansa—not in her sorrows,

but it has two eyes, springs that flow over rock—Sakhr.

كَأَنَّ بِهِ الجودانَ بِالسُحبِ شامِتٌ

فَما اِنتَحَبَت إِلّا اِنثَنى باسِمَ الثَغرِ

As though al-Jawdan there gloats at the clouds:

for whenever they sob, it turns back with smiling lips.

تَعانَقَتِ الأَغصانُ فيهِ فَأَسبَلَت

عَلى الرَوضِ أَستاراً مِنَ الوَرَقِ الخُضرِ

The branches embraced one another there and let fall

over the garden curtains of green leaves.

إِذا ما حِبالُ الشَمسِ مِنها تَخَلَّصَت

إِلى رَوضِهِ أَلقَت شِراكاً مِنَ التِبرِ

When the sun's ropes slip free of them

into its garden, they cast snares of gold.

تُدارُ بِهِ مِن دَيرِ شَهلانَ قَهوَةٌ

جَلَتها لَنا أَيدي القُسوسِ مِنَ الخِدرِ

Wine from the monastery of Shahlan is passed around there,

unveiled for us by priests' hands from its bridal chamber.

إِذا ما حَسَوناها وَسارَ سُرورُها

إِلى مُنتَهى الأَفكارِ مِن مَوضِعِ السِرِّ

When we sip it and its joy travels

from the seat of secrets to the farthest reaches of thought,

نُعِدُّ لَها نَقلَ الفُكاهَةِ وَالحِجى

وَنَجلو عَليها بَهجَةَ النَظمِ وَالنَثرِ

we prepare for it the relish of wit and wisdom,

and over it display the splendor of verse and prose.

وَنَحنُ نُوَفّي العَيشَ بِاللَهوِ حَقَّهُ

وَنَسرِقُ ساعاتِ السُرورِ مِنَ العُمرِ

While we give life its due in merriment,

and steal hours of joy from our lifetime.

وَقَد عَمَّنا فَصلُ الرَبيعِ بِفَضلِهِ

فَبادَرَنا بِالوَردِ في أَوَّلِ القَطرِ

And springtime has embraced us with its bounty,

so it hastened to us with roses at the first rainfall.

فَيا أَيُّها المَولى الَّذي وَصفُ فَضلِهِ

يَجِلُّ عَنِ التَعدادِ وَالحَدِّ وَالحَصرِ

So, O master, the description of whose bounty

surpasses counting, limits, and confinement:

أَبُثُّكَ بِالأَشعارِ فَرطَ تَشَوُّقي

وَلا أَتَعاطى حَصرَ وَصفِكَ بِالشِعرِ

in verse I confide to you my intense longing,

and do not attempt to encompass your description in poetry.

وَأَعجَبُ شَيءٍ أَنَّني مَعَ تَيَقُّظي

إِلى مُخلَصِ الأَلفاظِ مِن شَرَكِ الهُجرِ

And strangest of all is that, despite my vigilance

in freeing words from the snare of foul speech,

أَسوقُ إِلى البَحرِ الخَضَمِّ جَواهِري

وَأُهدي إِلى أَبناءِ بابِلَ مِن سِحري

I bring my jewels to the vast sea,

and offer some of my magic to the sons of Babylon.

فَمُنَّ فَدَتكَ النَفسُ بِالعُذرِ مُنعِماً

عَلَيَّ وَشاوِر حُسنَ رَأيِكَ في الأَمرِ

So grant pardon—may my soul be your ransom—as a favor

to me, and consult your sound judgment in this matter.