Sol 6.1

  1. ما بَالُ عَينِكَ لا تَنَامُ كَأَنَّما

    طَلَبَ الطبيبُ بِها قَذَىً فَأَضَلَّهُ

    What ails your eye, that it will not sleep, as though

    the physician had sought a speck in it and failed to find it?

  2. بَل مَا لِقَلبِكَ لا يَزَالُ كَأَنَّهُ

    نَشوَانُ أَنهَلَهُ النَّدِيمُ وَعَلَّهُ

    Rather, what ails your heart, that it is always as though

    a drunkard whose drinking companion gave him one draught, then another?

  3. مَا كَنتُ أَحسِبُ أَن أَبِيتَ ببلدَةٍ

    وَأَخِي بأَخرَى لا أَحَلُّ مَحَلَّهُ

    I never thought I would spend the night in one town,

    my brother in another, not sharing his abode.

  4. كُنَّا لَعَمرُكَ نَاعِمَينِ بِغبطَةٍ

    مَع ما نُحبُّ مَبِيتَهُ وَمَظَلَّهُ

    By your life, we two lived in blissful ease,

    with one whose nightly lodging and daytime shelter we loved.

  5. فَأَرَى الَّذي كُنَّا وَكَانَ بِغرَّةٍ

    نَلهُو بِغرَّتِهِ وَنَهوى دَلَّهُ

    Now I see our carefree past with him—

    when we delighted in his innocence and loved his coy charm—

  6. كَالطَّيفِ وَافَقَ ذَا هوىً فَلَها بهِ

    حَتَّى إِذَا ذَهَبَ الرُّقَادُ أَضَلَّهُ

    as a dream-image that met a lover, who delighted in it,

    until sleep departed and he lost it.

  7. قُل لِلَّذي شَعَفَ البَلاءُ فُؤَادَهُ

    لا تُهلِكَنَّ أَخَاً فرُبَّ أَخٍ لَهُ

    Say to him whose heart affliction has seared:

    Do not destroy a brother, for he has many a brother.

  8. وَالقَ ابنَ مَروانَ الَّذِي قَد هَزَّهُ

    عِرقُ المكَارِمِ والنَّدَى فَأَقَلَّهُ

    And meet Ibn Marwan, whom

    the vein of noble deeds and bounty has stirred and lifted high.

  9. وَاشكُ الَّذي لاقَيتَهُ مِن دُونِهِ

    وانشُر إِلَيهِ دَاءَ قَلبِكَ كُلَّهُ

    And complain of what you have suffered away from him,

    and lay before him all the sickness of your heart.

  10. فَعَلى ابنِ مَروَانَ السَلامُ مِنِ امرِئٍ

    أَمسَى يَذوقُ مِنَ الرُّقَادِ أَقَلَّهُ

    So peace be upon Ibn Marwan, from a man

    who at evening tastes the scantest share of sleep,

  11. شَوقَاً إِلَيكَ فَمَا تَنَالُكَ حَالُهُ

    وَإذَا يَحِلُّ البَابَ لَم يُؤذَن لَهُ

    longing for you—yet his plight does not reach you;

    and when he alights at the gate, he is not admitted.

  12. فَإِلَيكَ أَعمَلتُ المطَايَا ضُمَّراً

    وَقَطَعتُ أرواحَ الشِتَاءِ وَظلَّهُ

    So toward you I drove the lean mounts hard,

    and cut through winter's winds and shadow,

  13. وَليَالياً لَو أَنَّ حَاضِرَ بَثَّها

    طَرف القَضِيبِ أصابَهُ لأَشَلَّهُ

    and nights whose immediate anguish, had it

    struck the tip of a bough, would have withered it.