1. O dwelling-place, if only I were tears poured out upon you,

    I would meet my death, yet still not discharge what was due.

  2. Let your time-worn dwelling not deny the wasting of my body;

    for I have drunk from love’s cup all that could be drunk.

  3. Were my tears to overflow as their duty requires,

    every limb would pour forth a streaming eye.

  4. I remember your days as a spring pasture of pleasures;

    now it has become a mourner beneath the morning rainclouds.

  5. May the cloud’s tearful eye water you with life-giving rain,

    giving the earth’s uplands seeds drawn from meadow blossom,

  6. with lightning like the Companion’s swords, unsheathed,

    and a downpour like his gifts whenever he gives.

  7. A band spent the night with rage blazing among them,

    when stations were set for me above the necks of eminence.

  8. I was Joseph; they were the Tribes, and the father of the—

    Tribes was you; the blood they alleged was a lie.

  9. A dog may bark so long as it has not met a lion of Sharā;

    but once it sees a lion, it turns and flees.

  10. I see all your aims in stringing together a rhyme,

    while I see no aim for myself but eminence.

  11. Turn away from poetry: poetry diminishes

    one of high station; bring forth glory and noble lineage instead.

  12. Poetry is too short for one to gain stature through it,

    whether newly devised or extemporized.

  13. I journey away from you, though in every limb I have

    a mouth that thanks you, pouring forth nimble speech.

  14. Who can turn back the sunlight when it rises?

    Who can turn back the rain’s course when it pours?

  15. I truly love abiding in your shelter, just as

    your right hand loves to give among those who seek bounty.

  16. Yet my tongue longs to journey away from you, so that

    it may cover the earth with chosen praise of you.

  17. Among my own people and all humankind, I count myself

    an exile whenever I leave your place of bounty.

Sol 6.1