1. أيا غائباً يدنيهِ شَوقي على النّوى

    لأَنْتَ إلى قَلبي من الفِكْرِ أقربُ

    O absent one, whom my longing brings near despite the distance,

    you are surely closer to my heart than thought itself.

  2. وما غابَ مَن أُفْقَاهُ عَيني وخَاطِرِي

    لهُ مَطلعُ مِن ذَا وفي تِلك مَغرِبُ

    Nor is he absent whose two horizons are my eye and my mind;

    he has a rising from this one, and in that a setting.

  3. غَبْطتُك نُعْمَى فُزتَ دُونِي بنَيْلِها

    وفخراً له ذيلُ على السّحبِ يُسْحَبُ

    I envied you the blessing that you, not I, attained,

    and glory whose train is dragged across the clouds:

  4. جِوارَك مَن يَحمِي على الدّهرِ جَارَه

    ويَطلبُ منهُ جودُهُ كيف يطلبُ

    your dwelling beside one who shields his neighbor against Time,

    and whose bounty may be sought from him however one asks.

  5. هو البحرُ تَروَى الأرضُ عند سُكُونِهِ

    وتَغرَقُ في تيّارِه حين يَغْضَبُ

    He is the sea: the earth is watered when he is calm,

    and drowns in his current when he grows angry.

  6. فمَن ليَ لو كنتُ الرّسولَ بِبَابِه

    لتُبرِدَ رؤْياهُ حشاً تَتلهّبُ

    So who could grant that I might be the messenger at his gate,

    so that the sight of him might cool a heart ablaze,

  7. وأبلُغَ ما أنفَقْتُ في أمَلِي لَه

    من العُمر عَشراً كلُّها لَي متُعِبُ

    and I might attain what, in hope of him, I have spent

    ten years of my life seeking, all of them wearying me.

  8. فما رَقَّ لي فيها نسيمُ أصائِلي

    ولا رَاقَ لي فيها من الهمّ مَشرَبُ

    So no breeze of my late afternoons was gentle to me in those years,

    nor was any draught in them clear of sorrow for me.

  9. ولولاَ رجاءُ الصَّالِحِ المَلكِ الّذي

    به طالَ واسْتَعْلَى على الشَّرقِ مَغربُ

    And were it not for hope in al-Salih, the king,

    through whom the West has grown great and risen above the East,

  10. وأنّي سِآوِى من حِماهُ إلى حِمىً

    يُرَى كلّ خَطبٍ دونَه يَتَذَبْذَبُ

    and the hope that I shall take refuge in a sanctuary within his domain,

    before which every calamity is seen to waver,

  11. لَمُتُّ ومَا موتِي عَجيبُ وقد نأَت

    بيَ الدّارُ عنه بل بَقَائِيَ أعْجَبُ

    I would have died—my death would be no wonder, for far away lies

    my dwelling, keeping me from him; rather, my survival is more astonishing.