1. خَلِّ الشَّجي هُوَ قَلبُهُ وكلُومُه

    فعلامَ تعذِلُهُ وفِيمَ تلومُهُ

    Leave the grief-stricken man with his heart and his wounds.

    Then why do you reproach him, and for what do you blame him?

  2. هذا عتابُكَ قد أطلتَ حديثَهُ

    وهوى فُؤادِكَ قد براهُ قَديمُهُ

    This reproach of yours—you have drawn out its telling,

    while your heart has been worn away by its age-old love.

  3. تُسدي الملامَ وناظري مترقِّبٌ

    بَرقاً يمرُّ على الحمى فَيَشِمُهُ

    You offer blame, while my eye waits expectantly

    for lightning passing over the protected grounds, watching its course.

  4. وَتزيدُ تَعنيفاً وقلبي ذاكرٌ

    روضاً يُؤمِّلُ أَن يهبَّ نَسيمُهُ

    You increase your rebukes, while my heart remembers

    a garden, hoping that its breeze will blow.

  5. إِيهاً بلومِكَ عَن مُكابِدِ لوعةٍ

    يأبَى لفرطِ هُيامِه تهويمُهُ

    Keep your blame away from one enduring burning anguish,

    whose dozing refuses to come, so excessive is his passion.

  6. ولهانَ يطويهِ وينشرهُ الأسى

    حيرانَ يُقعِدُه الهوى ويقُيمُهُ

    Love-distraught, he is folded and unfolded by grief;

    bewildered, he is made to sit and rise by passion.

  7. لو بانَ لي رُشدٌ لكنتُ أَرُودُه

    أو لاحَ لي صبرٌ لكنتُ أَرُومُهُ

    If a right course were clear to me, I would seek it out;

    or if patience appeared to me, I would strive for it.

  8. أَيَقِرُّ طَرفي والمنامُ عدُوُّهُ

    ويُسَرُّ قلبي والغَرامُ غريمُهُ

    Can my eye find rest when sleep is its enemy,

    and my heart rejoice when passion is its creditor?

  9. أَبكىَ على الوادي فِراقُ فريقهِ

    جفني دماً ونوىً دُماهُ غريمُهُ

    Parting from the valley’s people made

    my eyelid weep blood; separation from its fair idols is its creditor.

  10. لي بَعدَهُم كِبدٌ تسيلُ عليهمُ

    كمَداً وليلٌ لا تَسيرُ نجومُهُ

    Since they left, I have a liver that melts for them

    with grief, and a night whose stars do not move.

  11. للهِ هاتيكَ الخَيامُ وبدرُها

    وكِناسُ هَذاكَ الصَّريمِ وريمُهُ

    God be praised for those tents and their full moon,

    and the covert of that dune and its white gazelle!

  12. رشأٌ سليمٌ خدُّهُ من صُدغِهِ

    وفُؤادُ عاشقِه الكئيبِ سليمُهُ

    A fawn whose cheek is unharmed by his temple-lock,

    while his sorrowful lover’s heart is the victim of its sting.

  13. ما الصبُّحُ إلاَّ وجهُه وجَبينُهُ

    واللَّيلُ إِلاَّ شَعرهُ وبهيمُهُ

    Dawn is nothing but his face and his brow,

    and night nothing but his hair and its blackness.

  14. يَروي ويُسنِدُ ناقلاً عَن خصرِه

    جسمي حديثاً صحَّ مِنهُ سَقيمُهُ

    Narrating and tracing its source, transmitting from his waist,

    my body tells a tale whose infirmity has proved sound.