1. عُجْ بالمَطِيِّ علَى مَعَالمِ بُورِي

    بِمَحَلِّ لَذَّاتِي ورَبْعِ سُرُورِي

    Turn the mounts toward the landmarks of Būrī,

    the place of my delights, the dwelling of my joy.

  2. وأَطِلْ بِهَا عنِّي الوقُوفَ فَمَا أرَى

    شَوقاً يُحَرِّكُنِي لها بقَصيرِ

    And linger there on my behalf, for I do not see

    the longing that stirs me toward it as brief.

  3. واسْتنْشِ رَيَّاهَا ففِي عَرَصَاتِها

    عِندَ العُبُورِ بِهِنَّ نَشْرُ عَبيرِ

    And breathe its fragrance; in its open grounds,

    as you pass through them, perfume wafts.

  4. واسْتَوصِ نَشْرَ عَبيرِهَا بِي إنَّهُ

    قَمِنٌ بِنَشْرِ عَبيريَ المقْبُورِ

    And commend me to its perfume's waft, for it

    is fit to revive my buried fragrance.

  5. لَم تجعَلِ العَبَرَاتُ خَدِّي مَعْبَراً

    إلاَّ علَى مَرِّي بِها وعُبُورِي

    Tears have made no passage of my cheek

    except when I pass through it and cross its grounds.

  6. لا أَمْطَرَتْ دِيَمُ الرَّبِيعِ بِسَاحتِي

    إنْ لم أَحُلَّ بربعِها الممْطُورِ

    May spring's steady rains never fall upon my courtyard

    if I do not settle in its rain-soaked dwelling.

  7. هَلْ لِي إلى تِلكَ المَنَازِلِ عَوْدَةٌ

    تَهدِي بِها نفْسي وفَرْطَ زَفِيري

    Can I return to those abodes,

    where my soul and my excessive sighing may find calm,

  8. فَتكُفَّ من فَيْضِ الدُّمُوعِ فَذَا وَذَا

    مَحَوَا سَوَادَيْ مُقْلَتي وضَمِيري

    and the flood of tears subside? For these two

    have erased the darkness of my pupil and my heart.

  9. إنْ يُصْبِني ذِكْرُ الدِّيَارِ فَإنَّهُ

    لإنَاثِ أَصْبيةٍ بِها وذُكُورِ

    If remembrance of those homes makes me yearn, it is

    for the little children there, girls and boys.

  10. وَجْدِي الصَّغيرُ بها لأَصْغَرِ صِبْيَتِي

    وكَبيرُ أَشْوَاقي بها لكَبيرِي

    My lesser longing there is for my youngest child,

    and my greatest yearning there is for my eldest.

  11. وكَريمةُ الطَّرَفينِ جُرَّ على التُّقَى

    والدِّينِ فَاضِلُ ذَيلِهَا المجرُورِ

    And a woman noble on both sides: over piety

    and faith is drawn the surplus of her trailing hem.

  12. وَمُهَفْهَفٌ زُرَّتْ غِلائِلُهُ عَلَى

    غُصْنٍ يَمِيلُ بهِ النَّسيمُ نَضِيرِ

    And a slender one whose fine garments are fastened over

    a fresh branch that the breeze bends.

  13. رَشَأٌ جِرَاحَاتِي جُبَارٌ عِنْدَهُ

    أَبَداً وكَسْرِي ليسَ بالمجبُورِ

    A young gazelle, to whom my wounds count for nothing

    forever, and my brokenness remains unmended.

  14. ضَاحِي الجَبينِ وإنَّهُ ليُرِيكَ مِن

    تحتِ الخِمَارِ شَمَائِلَ المخمُورِ

    Bright-browed, yet showing you, from

    beneath the veil, the ways of one intoxicated.

  15. أنَا أسعدُ الثِّقَلَينِ إنْ أدناهُمُ

    مِنِّي رَوَاحِي نحوَهُمْ وبُكُوري

    I am the happiest of humans and jinn if they are brought

    near me by my journeys toward them, evening and morning.

  16. فَأَمَا وفَتْلاَءِ المرافِقِ جَسْرَةٍ

    تَخْدِي بِمَشْبوحِ الذِّراعِ جَسُورِ

    Now, by a sturdy she-camel with powerfully turned elbows,

    striding with an outstretched, fearless foreleg:

  17. إنْ يُعْيِ عيدِيَّ النجارِ بُكُورُهُ

    نَهضَتْ فَطَارَ بِها جَنَاحُ الكُورِ

    if an early departure wearies an ʿĪdī-bred mount,

    she rises, and the saddle's wing flies with her.

  18. يَرْمِي بِها الميقَاتُ غيرَ مُقَصِّرٍ

    حتى يُتِمَّ النُسْكَ بالتقْصيرِ

    He drives her toward the pilgrimage boundary, never slackening,

    until he completes the rites by shortening his hair.

  19. لأُجَشِّمَنَّ النَّاجياتِ إليهِمُ

    والسُّفْنَ قَطْعَ مَفَاوِزٍ وبُحُورِ

    I shall surely make the swift mounts journey to them,

    and the ships cross deserts and seas.

  20. ولأُلْقِينَّ بِحَرِّ وَجْهي نحوَهُمْ

    حَرَّينِ حَرَّ هَوًى وحَرَّ هَجيرِ

    And I shall surely face toward them with my bare face

    two heats: the heat of love and the heat of noon.

  21. فَعَسى ابْتذالُ الصَّونِ يُفضي بي إلى

    مَن صِينَ تحتَ أكلّةٍ وسُتُورِ

    Perhaps surrendering my sheltered ease will bring me to

    those kept sheltered beneath canopies and curtains.

  22. فَأَبِيتُ قد ألقَيْتُ أَعْبَاءَ السُّرَى

    وأرحْتُ ظَهْرَ مَطيَّتي وبَعِيري

    Then I shall spend the night having laid down the burdens of night travel

    and rested the back of my mount and my camel.

  23. إنْ كَانَ ذَاكَ فَيَا سَعَادَةَ طَالعِي

    ونَجاحَ آمالِي ويُمْنَ طُيُورِي

    If that comes to pass, how fortunate my rising star,

    how successful my hopes, how auspicious my omen-birds!

  24. إنِّي إذَا هَابَ الزِّيارةَ وَامِقٌ

    يُدْلي بدَعوَى في المحبَّةِ زُورِ

    I, whenever a lover shrinks from visiting,

    putting forward a false claim of love,

  25. خَاطَرْتُ بالنَّفْسِ الخطيرةِ في هَوَى

    ظبيٍ كَلِفْتُ بهِ هُنَاكَ غَرِيرِ

    risk my precious life for love

    of an innocent gazelle with whom I am enamored there.

  26. إنْ عَاقَني التفْتيرُ عَنهُ فَلا رَمَى

    قَلْبي بسَهْمٍ رِيشَ بالتقْتِيرِ

    If flagging resolve keeps me from him, may he never shoot

    my heart with an arrow feathered with sparingness.

  27. أو حَارَ دُونَ لِقَائِهِ عَزْمي فلا

    مُتِّعْتُ مِنهُ بالعُيُونِ الحُورِ

    Or if my resolve falters before meeting him, may I never

    be granted the pleasure of his wide, dark eyes.

  28. يا مَنْ أُسَيِّرُ كُلَّ يَومٍ نَحوَهُمْ

    كُتُبي إذَا أعْيَا عَليَّ مَسِيري

    O you toward whom I send, every day,

    my letters when my own journey proves too difficult,

  29. وأقُولُ مُعتذِراً إذَا سَيّرتُها

    لا يسقُطُ الميْسُورُ بالمعْسُورِ

    I say in apology when I send them:

    What can be done is not forfeited because of what cannot.

  30. لا تحسبُوهَا أنَّها كُتِبَتْ لكُمْ

    بِسَوادِ حِبْرِي بَلْ سَوَادِ نَظِيري

    Do not suppose that they were written to you

    with the blackness of my ink, but with my eye's blackness.

  31. من لا يُطيقُ فِرَاقَ يومٍ وَاحدٍ

    لكُمُ فَكيفَ يكُونُ بَعْدَ شُهُورِ

    One who cannot endure a single day's separation

    from you—how must he be after months?

  32. آهٍ وقَلَّ على أوالَ تَأوُّهِي

    فإذَا جُنِنْتُ بِها فغيرُ كثيرِ

    Ah! My sighing for Awāl is too little;

    if I go mad with longing for it, that is no excess.

  33. ما كُنتُ مُبتاعاً أزِقَّةَ فَارِسٍ

    بالفِيحِ من عَرَصاتِها والدُّورِ

    I would never purchase the alleys of Persia

    in exchange for its spacious grounds and homes.

  34. هَيْهَاتَ ما شِيرَازُ وَافيةٌ بِمَا

    في تِلْكَ لي من نِعْمَةٍ وحُبُورِ

    Far from it! Shīrāz cannot match

    the comfort and delight I have in that place.

  35. بَلَدٌ تَعَادَلَ صَيفُها وشِتَاؤُها

    في الطِّيْبِ للمقْرُورِ والمحْرُورِ

    A land whose summer and winter are equal

    in pleasantness for those chilled and those overheated.

  36. فَوفَتْ ببَردِ حُشَاشَةِ المحْرُورِ

    عَدْلاً ودِفءِ مَضَاجِعِ المقْرورِ

    It duly provides coolness for the overheated one's vital core,

    in fair measure, and warmth for the chilled one's resting places.

  37. يَتكأَّدُ الرِّزقُ العِبَادَ وإنَّهُ

    فِيها على بَاغِيهِ غَيْرُ عَسيرِ

    Earning a livelihood weighs heavily upon people, yet

    there it is no hardship for whoever seeks it.

  38. سِيَّانَ عِيشةُ كَادِحٍ ومُرَفَّهٍ

    فِيها ونِعمَةُ مُوسِرٍ وفَقِيرِ

    Alike are the lives of the laborer and the pampered,

    there, and the comfort of rich and poor.

  39. إنْ طَبَّقَ المَحْلُ البِلادَ فإنَّنَا

    في رَوْضَةٍ مِن خِصْبِها وغَدِيرِ

    If drought blankets the lands, we remain

    in a garden of its fertility, beside a pool.

  40. إنْ أنْسَ لا أنْسَ الرَّبيعَ بِها وما

    تجلُوهُ من نَوَّارِهِ والنُّورِ

    Whatever I forget, I shall not forget its spring and what

    it displays of spring's blossoms and light.

  41. رَوْضٌ يَرِقُّ عَلَيْهِ نَاجِمُ زَهرِهِ

    كالصُّحْفِ بينَ فَوَاصِلٍ وعُشُورِ

    A garden whose emerging flowers spread delicately across it,

    like manuscript pages with verse divisions and tenth-verse marks.

  42. يُلْقِي لمُجتَازِ النَّسيمِ كَرَامَةً

    أَنْمَاطَ دِيْبَاجٍ وفُرْشَ حَرِيرِ

    It lays out, in honor of the passing breeze,

    brocade carpets and silken bedding.

  43. أَمْلَى السَّحَابُ عَلَيهِ مِنْ إنْشَائِهِ

    فأَتَاكَ بالمنْظُومِ والمَنْثُورِ

    The clouds dictated to it from their composition,

    and it brought you both verse and prose.

  44. والماءُ مِنهُ مُطْلَقٌ ومُقَيَّدٌ

    يلقَاكَ بالممدُودِ والمقْصُورِ

    Its water is both free-flowing and confined,

    meeting you in extended and shortened forms.

  45. يستَوقِفُ الأسْمَاعَ بينَ تَدفُّقٍ

    كَرَجيعِ قَهْقَهَةٍ وبينَ خَريرِ

    It holds the hearing between a gush

    like the echo of laughter and a gentle murmur.

  46. تتلُو بَلابِلُهُ عَلَيْكَ وَوُرْقُهُ

    أَسْفَارَ إنْجِيلٍ وصُحْفَ زَبُورِ

    Its nightingales and gray doves recite to you

    books of the Gospel and pages of the Psalms.

  47. إنْ بَثَّ ذَاكَ عليكَ أعلاقَ الأَسَى

    بِصَفيرِهِ ثَنَّاهُ ذَا بِهَديرِ

    If one pours out to you precious sorrows

    with its whistling, the other answers with its cooing,

  48. حتَّى تَظلَّ بِذَا وذَا مُستَغنياً

    أبَداً عن المِزْمَارِ والطُّنْبُورِ

    until, with this one and that, you remain content

    forever without flute or tambur.

  49. فَكَأنَّما اطّرحَ الغِناءَ عليهِمَا

    قَيسٌ وقد غَنَّى بِشِعرِ جَرير

    It is as though Qays had entrusted song to those two,

    having sung the poetry of Jarīr.

  50. لا شَيءَ أبْهجُ منْظراً من صَحْوِهِ

    والشَّمْسُ فيهِ كَدَارةِ البَلُّورِ

    Nothing is more delightful to behold than its clear weather,

    with the sun in it like a disc of crystal.

  51. ومَتَى أَغَامَ أَرَاكَ خَيمةَ سُنْدُسٍ

    غشَّى سَمَاوَتَها دُخَانُ بخُورِ

    Whenever it clouds over, it shows you a tent of fine green silk,

    its upper reaches veiled by incense smoke.

  52. لا عيبَ فِيها غَيرَ أنَّ حِيَاضَها

    شَرْعٌ لِورْدِ الكَلْبِ والخِنزِيرِ

    It has no fault except that its pools

    are equally open for dogs and pigs to drink.

  53. هِي جَنَّةٌ لو مُيِّزَتْ نَعْمَاؤُها

    ما بَينَ عَبدٍ مُؤْمِنٍ وكَفُورِ

    It would be paradise if its blessings were apportioned

    between a believing servant and an unbelieving one.

  54. هذِي مَزَايَاهَا وكمْ عَلِقَتْ يَدِي

    فِيها بِذمَّةِ صَاحِبٍ وعَشيرِ

    These are its merits; how often my hand has clung

    there to the pledged protection of a friend and companion!

  55. هذَا عَلَى سِرِّي الأَمِينُ وذَاكَ إنْ

    خَذلَ النَّصيرُ على الخُطُوبِ نَصِيري

    This one keeps my secret faithfully; that one, if

    a helper fails me, is my helper against calamities.

  56. يا جَادَهَا الهَتِنُ المُلِثُّ فأصْبَحَتْ

    عَرَضاً لمحلُولِ النِّطَاقِ غَزِيرِ

    O may heavy, unceasing rain water it, until it becomes

    a target for a loosened-girdled cloud pouring abundantly.

  57. وأَقَرَّ إخوَاني بِها وأباتَني

    مَعَهُمْ بِطَرْفٍ في الدُّنوِّ قَرِيرِ

    And may it settle my brothers there and let me spend the night

    with them, my eye content in their nearness.