1. Muharram, you reproached me in the language of affection,

    and pressed your censure, though I had committed no wrong.

  2. You took an excuse for treachery toward the rhymes;

    had my resolve not weakened, I would have followed their tracks,

  3. and gone on roaming across the open deserts

    and the valleys of imagination, never turning back.

  4. But the physician prolonged his prohibition,

    forbidding exhausting composition, and so I stopped.

  5. I left no aid for the seat of illness,

    nothing that strengthens digestion, without buying it.

  6. I knew of no opening for anything harmful

    through which its damage might spread, but I guarded against it.

  7. Were it not for my regimen and my intense care for it,

    I would neither have drunk nor taken nourishment.

  8. Had I not feared my companions would think ill of me,

    I would never have disclosed my condition or complained.

  9. Had I not heard poetry weeping

    over my long absence, I would not have wept.

  10. Strange: I hoard it and bend tenderly

    over it, even as I am dying of it.

  11. I used to say: If my life returned,

    and my health, I could do without wealth;

  12. if I attained recovery, I would relieve my heart

    of far-off hopes and strive no more.

  13. Yet no sooner had I bidden that illness farewell

    than I returned to hopes and desires.

  14. I called out to poetry, but it strayed proudly,

    haughty toward me, and not one verse answered.

  15. It did not convey to you what it had claimed,

    and you demanded it of me until I, too, was called to answer.

  16. Whether you judge unjustly or justly,

    your judgment has pleased it, and I am content.

  17. We made peace; the first thing it sought

    was your approval—the finest thing I sought.

  18. If I do not hold fast to you, my evening companion,

    may I win no glory and rise no higher.

  19. From life’s burdens I fled,

    turning to you and following your example.

  20. I kept crying out until my mouth went dry,

    and nothing but tears ever quenched my thirst.

  21. I squandered youth and reaped nothing

    save bitter regret, nor did I gain a thing.

  22. If refinement and knowledge sufficed a young man,

    I would have been content with what came easily to me.

  23. Were it not for siblings, a father, and a mother

    in Egypt, I would have gone far from Egypt.

  24. Were it not that my people might stray after me

    from the path of right guidance, I would disappear from among them.

  25. Though I have recovered from my infirmity,

    I have found no recovery from my times.

  26. If I have overpraised the master of medicine, forgive me;

    I have satirized all the rest of my people and scorned them.

  27. With poetry I cannot benefit myself,

    nor my family, even were I al-Kumayt.

  28. In your noble patience I saw the finest sword:

    with it you ward off calamities, and in it I took shelter.

  29. Come to me, brother, with what will clear my cares;

    for they have occupied my tongue—if only they would depart.

  30. Help me with your counsel, and tend my affection;

    for I have tended no affection but yours.

Sol 6.1