وَاصَلَنِي هَجْرُ مَنْ أُحِبُّ
فَلَمْ يَغِبْ لاَ وَلاَ يَغِيبُ
The estrangement of the one I love has kept me company;
The desertion of the one I love has kept me company;
it has never departed—nor will it depart.
So it has not been absent—no, nor will it be.
فَلَوْ يَكُونُ السُّلُوِّ حَياً
مَا مَاتَ مِنْ هَجْرِهِ المُحِبُّ
If only forgetfulness were a living thing,
Were solace alive,
the lover would not have died from his beloved’s desertion.
The lover would not have died of his beloved's desertion.
وَا رَحْمَتَا لاِنْكِسَارِ جَفْنِ
لاَ يَعْرِفُ الصَّحْوَ مِنْهُ هَدْبُ
Oh, pity the drooping of an eyelid
Alas, pity for a drooping eyelid,
whose lashes know no waking sobriety!
Not one of whose lashes knows sobriety.
جَارَ عَلَيْهِ الخُمَارُ حَتَّى
أَتْلَفَهُ والخُمَارُ صَعْبُ
The languor of intoxication oppressed it until
The hangover oppressed it until
it destroyed it—and intoxication’s aftermath is cruel.
It destroyed it—and the hangover is harsh.
يَا غُصْناً لا يَمِيلُ نَحْوِي
وَالمَيْلُ في الغُصنِ مُسْتَحَبُ
O supple branch that will not bend toward me,
O bough that does not bend toward me,
though bending is lovely in a branch,
And bending is pleasing in a bough,
صَيْرتَني كَالنَّسِيمِ سُقْماً
لِمْ لاَ تَمِيلُ إذَا أَهِبُّ
you have made me as frail as the breeze with sickness;
You have made me, through sickness, like the breeze;
why do you not bend when I begin to blow?
Why do you not bend when I blow?
Sol 6.1