غصونُ الحمى شفَّ المعَّنى قدودها

غصونُ الحمى شفَّ المعَّنى قدودها

فهل لأحاديث الغضى من يعيدها

فهل لأحاديث الغضى من يعيدها

The preserve's boughs—their figures have worn the lovelorn thin.

The branches of passion have healed their wounds,

Is there anyone, then, to repeat the tales of the ghada trees?

So can the talks of rancor be repeated?

فإنَّ أسانيدَ النسيمِ ضعيفةٌ

فإنَّ أسانيدَ النسيمِ ضعيفةٌ

وإن صحَّ عن بانِ الكثيب ورودها

وإن صحَّ عن بانِ الكثيب ورودها

For the breeze's chains of transmission are weak,

For the chains of the breeze are so weak,

even if their transmission from the sandhill's ban-trees is sound.

Even if the perfume of dunes is authenticated.

إذا عبقتْ عند الكرى نفحاتها

إذا عبقتْ عند الكرى نفحاتها

تنبهَ واشيها وهبَّ حسودها

تنبهَ واشيها وهبَّ حسودها

When their wafts grow fragrant at the hour of sleep,

When its breaths are fragrant to the loved one,

their talebearer awakens, and their envier springs up.

The jealous wake and the envious are provoked.

يجدّد سقمي ما عفا منْ طلولها

يجدّد سقمي ما عفا منْ طلولها

وأحسنُ أثواب السقامِ جديدها

وأحسنُ أثواب السقامِ جديدها

The faded traces of their camps renew my sickness,

My sickness is renewed by its long disease,

and the finest of sickness's robes is the newest.

And the best attire for the sick is the new.

دفنتُ بها حسنَ العزاءِ الذي لهُ

دفنتُ بها حسنَ العزاءِ الذي لهُ

تزار مغانيها وتبكي عهودها

تزار مغانيها وتبكي عهودها

I buried there the beauty of consolation, for which

With it I buried the beauty of solace I had,

their haunts are visited and their bygone days draw tears.

Its songs are mourned and its epochs wept over.

إذا الحبُّ لم يشفعْ بسقمٍ وأدمعٍ

إذا الحبُّ لم يشفعْ بسقمٍ وأدمعٍ

فهاتيكَ دعوى لا تزكى شهودها

فهاتيكَ دعوى لا تزكى شهودها

If love is not accompanied by sickness and tears,

If love cannot intercede with sickness and tears,

then that is a claim whose witnesses are not deemed trustworthy.

Then these claims have no witnesses to prove them.

إلى اللهِ من دمعٍ بعيدٍ جمودهُ

إلى اللهِ من دمعٍ بعيدٍ جمودهُ

ومن نارِ أشواقٍ بطيءٍ خمودها

ومن نارِ أشواقٍ بطيءٍ خمودها

To God I complain of tears whose drying is far off,

To God belongs a tear in its remoteness solidified,

and of a fire of yearnings slow to die down.

And from the fire of languid, slow-burning passions.

بليتُ بشمسٍ والسَّحابُ نقابها

بليتُ بشمسٍ والسَّحابُ نقابها

وإلاّ فبدر والنجومُ عقودها

وإلاّ فبدر والنجومُ عقودها

I have been afflicted by a sun, the clouds her veil;

I was tested by a sun whose clouds are its veil,

or else by a full moon, the stars her necklaces.

Otherwise it’s the full moon and stars are its knots.

فللغصنِ عطفاها وللدعصِ ردفها

فللغصنِ عطفاها وللدعصِ ردفها

وللوردِ خدَّاها وللظبيِ جيدها

وللوردِ خدَّاها وللظبيِ جيدها

Her flanks are the bough's, her rump the sand-mound's;

So for the branch are its flexures, and for the porcupine its spines,

and her cheeks are the rose's, her neck the gazelle's.

For the rose are its cheeks, and for the gazelle its neck.

لقد سقمتْ مثلَ الجسومِ جفونها

لقد سقمتْ مثلَ الجسومِ جفونها

فلولا عمومُ السقمِ كنا نعودها

فلولا عمومُ السقمِ كنا نعودها

Her eyelids have indeed grown sick, like bodies;

Her eyes grew sick like bodies grow thin,

were sickness not so widespread, we would visit them.

Else we would still be visiting them.

وقد كنت أبكي للصدود ولا نوى

وقد كنت أبكي للصدود ولا نوى

فكيف وهذا نأيها وصدودها

فكيف وهذا نأيها وصدودها

I used to weep at rejection, when there was no parting;

I used to cry over aloofness but had no intention,

how, then, now—with her distance and her rejection?

So how about when it drew apart and was aloof?

لقد أفلتتْ من قبضةِ الغمضِ والدُّجى

لقد أفلتتْ من قبضةِ الغمضِ والدُّجى

ظباءٌ بأشراكِ الجفونِ نصيدها

ظباءٌ بأشراكِ الجفونِ نصيدها

From the grip of slumber and darkness have indeed escaped

It slipped from the grasp of winking and darkness,

gazelles we hunt with the snares of eyelids.

A gazelle ensnared by the traps of eyelids.

خماصُ الحشى بيضُ المباسم والطُّلى

خماصُ الحشى بيضُ المباسم والطُّلى

ثقال الخطى دعجُ النواظرِ سودها

ثقال الخطى دعجُ النواظرِ سودها

Slender-waisted, with white smiles and necks,

Cheeks’ paleness, smiles’ whiteness, grays of cheeks

heavy of step, their eyes wide and deeply black.

Walk’s heaviness, staring’s blackness, their somberness.

سبى جلدي حتى ضعاف جفونها

سبى جلدي حتى ضعاف جفونها

وطلَّ دمي حتى دماها وغيدها

وطلَّ دمي حتى دماها وغيدها

Even their frail eyelids took my fortitude captive,

It captured my skin until her eyelids grew weak,

and even their doll-like beauties and graceful women spilled my blood unavenged.

It shed my blood until it and its flow turned muddy.

وقفنا وللتوديعِ يومَ فراقهم

وقفنا وللتوديعِ يومَ فراقهم

وغى ما انجلت إلاَّ وقلبي فقيدها

وغى ما انجلت إلاَّ وقلبي فقيدها

We stood on their parting day, and farewell had

We stopped for their farewell, the day they departed,

a battle that subsided only with my heart as its casualty.

And whatever was elucidated, my heart alone was bereaved.

أحاجي ببيضِ الهند وهي لحاظها

أحاجي ببيضِ الهند وهي لحاظها

وأنسب سمر الخط وهي قدودها

وأنسب سمر الخط وهي قدودها

I pose riddles about India's white blades—they are their glances;

I challenge the whites of India, which are its wrapping,

and trace the lineage of al-Khatt's brown spears—they are their figures.

And attribute the tan of the line, which are its marks.

وقد قيل إنَّ البانَ ليسَ بمثمرٍ

وقد قيل إنَّ البانَ ليسَ بمثمرٍ

وهاهي بانٌ والثمارُ نهودها

وهاهي بانٌ والثمارُ نهودها

And it has been said that the ban-tree bears no fruit;

It's been said the dune bears no fruits,

yet here she is a ban-tree, and its fruits are her breasts.

Yet here is a dune whose fruits are nodding.

وإن قضاءَ الحسنِ ليس بجائرٍ

وإن قضاءَ الحسنِ ليس بجائرٍ

فلم جرحتْ قلبي وتدمى خدودها

فلم جرحتْ قلبي وتدمى خدودها

And surely beauty's judgment is not unjust—

And that the decree of beauty is not unfair,

so why has she wounded my heart while her cheeks bleed?

Why did it wound my heart and bloody my cheeks?

عدا مقلتي برقُ الحمى ووميضهُ

عدا مقلتي برقُ الحمى ووميضهُ

فما غادرتْ من لوعةٍ تستزيدها

فما غادرتْ من لوعةٍ تستزيدها

The preserve's lightning and its gleam passed beyond my eye,

Lightning of passion passed by my eyelashes, and its flashing,

for it had left no burning grief of which to crave more.

It left no agony wanting, only multiplying it.

وما هو إلاّ صارمٌ قتل الكرى

وما هو إلاّ صارمٌ قتل الكرى

وحمرته لوثٌ فمن ذا يقيدها

وحمرته لوثٌ فمن ذا يقيدها

It is nothing but a keen sword that slew slumber,

It is but a sword that murdered the loved ones,

and its redness is incriminating evidence—who will exact blood-retribution from it?

And its redness is filth, so who can check it?

لعمري لئن كانت سيوفاً بروقهُ

لعمري لئن كانت سيوفاً بروقهُ

لسيفُ صلاح الدين عني يذودها

لسيفُ صلاح الدين عني يذودها

By my life, if its lightning flashes are swords,

By my life, if its lightning was a sword,

Salah al-Din's sword will surely ward them off from me.

It would be Saladin’s sword, protecting it.