كَفى بِهِ جائِراً في الحُكمِ ما عَدلا

كَفى بِهِ جائِراً في الحُكمِ ما عَدلا

لَو كانَ يَسمَع في أَحبابِهِ عَذلا

لَو كانَ يَسمَع في أَحبابِهِ عَذلا

Unjust enough in judgment would he be, never fair,

His tyranny in rule was enough, had he been just

if he heeded censure concerning his loved ones,

Even if he heard blame from his loved ones

أَو راحَ يُضمِرُ سُلواناً بِخاطِرِهِ

أَو راحَ يُضمِرُ سُلواناً بِخاطِرِهِ

عَن مائِساتِ قُدودٍ تُخجِلُ الأَسَلا

عَن مائِساتِ قُدودٍ تُخجِلُ الأَسَلا

or began to harbor thoughts of forgetting

Or if he secretly harbored passion in his heart

those swaying figures that put spear-shafts to shame.

For bright-faced maidens who would make the bangles ashamed

بَل كَيفَ يَصحُو غَراماً أَو يُفيق هَوىً

بَل كَيفَ يَصحُو غَراماً أَو يُفيق هَوىً

مَن باتَ بِالأَحورِ العَينينِ مُشتَغِلا

مَن باتَ بِالأَحورِ العَينينِ مُشتَغِلا

But how can he sober from passion or recover from love,

But how can one whom the virgins’ eyes occupy awake to love or be roused to passion?

who spends the night absorbed in the dark-eyed one?

For love is nothing but downcast eyelids

فَما الهَوى غَيرُ أَجفانٍ مُسَهَّدَةٍ

فَما الهَوى غَيرُ أَجفانٍ مُسَهَّدَةٍ

تَهمي وَقَلبٌ بِنيران الأَسى شُعِلا

تَهمي وَقَلبٌ بِنيران الأَسى شُعِلا

For love is nothing but sleepless eyelids

And passion only a smoldering heartache

streaming tears, and a heart kindled by sorrow's fires.

A longing we endure leading to devastation - O may God water the devastation with rain!

وَلا الغَرامُ سِوى وَجدٍ نُكابِدُهُ

وَلا الغَرامُ سِوى وَجدٍ نُكابِدُهُ

إِلى الحِمى يا سَقى اللَه الحِمى نَهَلا

إِلى الحِمى يا سَقى اللَه الحِمى نَهَلا

Nor is passion anything but longing we endure

The rain of Damascus He watered without corrupting it

for the precinct—ah, may God water the precinct with a first deep draught!

From the clouds He made its land fertile

حِمى دِمَشق سَقاها غَيرَ مُفسِدِها

حِمى دِمَشق سَقاها غَيرَ مُفسِدِها

صَوبُ الغَمامِ وَروّى أَرضَها عَلَلا

صَوبُ الغَمامِ وَروّى أَرضَها عَلَلا

The precinct of Damascus—may she be watered without harm

Until its environs smile beautifully

by the clouds' downpour, and her earth refreshed with a second draught,

And light laughs in its sleeves playfully

حَتّى تَظَلُّ بِها الأَرجاءُ باسِمَةً

حَتّى تَظَلُّ بِها الأَرجاءُ باسِمَةً

وَيَضحَكُ النَورُ في أَكمامِهِ جَذِلا

وَيَضحَكُ النَورُ في أَكمامِهِ جَذِلا

until all her reaches remain smiling,

And He granted the west side an abode

and the blossom laughs joyfully within its calyxes.

Where I wore the prime of youth welcomingly

وَخَصَّ بِالجانِب الغَربيِّ مَنزِلَةً

وَخَصَّ بِالجانِب الغَربيِّ مَنزِلَةً

لَبِستُ فيها الشَبابَ الرَوقَ مُقتَبِلا

لَبِستُ فيها الشَبابَ الرَوقَ مُقتَبِلا

And may it especially favor a dwelling on the western side,

The melodies of love and the joys of amusement where when the full moon rose it set

where I wore fresh youth in its first bloom:

Those dwellings are not Kadima nor Aqeeq nor Shi’b Al-Ghuyer nor any love-crazed land however much I say to it

مَغنى الهَوى وَمَغاني اللَهوِ حَيثُ بِهِ

مَغنى الهَوى وَمَغاني اللَهوِ حَيثُ بِهِ

مَهاً إِذا طَلعت بَدرُ السَما أَفَلا

مَهاً إِذا طَلعت بَدرُ السَما أَفَلا

the abode of love, the haunts of pleasure, where dwell

And patience dissolves in my body like beeswax

oryx-eyed beauties whose rising makes heaven's full moon set.

With the magic in your eyes saying hello to a life that without you would say no

تِلكَ المَنازِلُ لا شَرقِيِّ كاظِمَةٍ

تِلكَ المَنازِلُ لا شَرقِيِّ كاظِمَةٍ

وَلا العَقيقُ وَلا شِعبُ الغُوير وَلا

وَلا العَقيقُ وَلا شِعبُ الغُوير وَلا

Those are the dwellings—not eastern Kazima,

God knows that after we parted

nor al-‘Aqiq, nor the ravine of al-Ghuwayr, nor

I abandoned the passion of youth, amusement and romance

دِيارُ كُلِّ مَهاةٍ كَم أَقولُ لَها

دِيارُ كُلِّ مَهاةٍ كَم أَقولُ لَها

وَالصَبرُ يَنحَلُ في جِسمي كَما نَحَلا

وَالصَبرُ يَنحَلُ في جِسمي كَما نَحَلا

the dwellings of every oryx-eyed beauty to whom I often say,

I would not have left you were it not for ambition

as patience wastes within my body, just as my body wastes:

A drunkard does not neglect his wine even when traveling

بِما بِعينيكِ مِن سِحرٍ صلى دَنفاً

بِما بِعينيكِ مِن سِحرٍ صلى دَنفاً

يَهوى الحَياةَ وَأَمّا إِن صَدَدتِ فَلا

يَهوى الحَياةَ وَأَمّا إِن صَدَدتِ فَلا

'By the magic in your eyes, grant union to a lovesick man

I would not have chosen Rome as my dwelling

who loves life—but not if you turn away.'

Or substituted you for youth

اللَهُ يَعلَمُ أَنّي بَعدَ فُرقَتِها

اللَهُ يَعلَمُ أَنّي بَعدَ فُرقَتِها

فارَقتُ شَرخَ الصِبا وَاللَهو وَالغَزَلا

فارَقتُ شَرخَ الصِبا وَاللَهو وَالغَزَلا

God knows that after parting from her,

I would not have mounted my steeds

I parted with the prime of youth, with pleasure and courtship.

Roving the plains and mountains

ما كُنتُ لَولا طِلاب المَجدِ أَهجرُها

ما كُنتُ لَولا طِلاب المَجدِ أَهجرُها

هَجرَ اِمرئٍ مُغرَمٍ بِالراح كاس طِلا

هَجرَ اِمرئٍ مُغرَمٍ بِالراح كاس طِلا

But for the quest for glory, I would never have forsaken her,

Faster from all sides than the glance itself

as a man besotted with wine forsakes a cup of grape wine.

And smoother flowing than the Shadool of the desert

وَلا تَخيَّرتُ أَرضَ الرُومِ لِي سَكَناً

وَلا تَخيَّرتُ أَرضَ الرُومِ لِي سَكَناً

وَلا تَعوّضتُ عَنها بِالصِبا بَدَلا

وَلا تَعوّضتُ عَنها بِالصِبا بَدَلا

Nor would I have chosen the land of Rum for my abode,

When it emerges from the mirage it appears

nor sought, in youth, a substitute for her.

A rising moon with the horizons adorning it

وَلا اِمتَطَيتُ عِتاقَ الخَيلِ رامِيَةً

وَلا اِمتَطَيتُ عِتاقَ الخَيلِ رامِيَةً

بِيَ المَوامي تَجوبُ السَهلَ وَالجَبَلا

بِيَ المَوامي تَجوبُ السَهلَ وَالجَبَلا

Nor would I have mounted thoroughbred horses, hurling

However much desolate regions buffet it

me across the deserts, traversing plain and mountain:

You hear its ghosts wailing in its corners

مِن كُلِّ طِرفٍ تَفوقُ الطَرفَ سُرعَتُهُ

مِن كُلِّ طِرفٍ تَفوقُ الطَرفَ سُرعَتُهُ

وَسابِحٍ مِثلَ سِيدِ الرَملِ ما عَسَلا

وَسابِحٍ مِثلَ سِيدِ الرَملِ ما عَسَلا

each a noble steed whose speed outstrips a glance,

It courses through them like raging winds

and a coursing steed like a wolf of the sands when it lopes.

And it vaults as the darkness of night settles

إِذا تَطَلَّع مِن لُجِّ السَرابِ يُرى

إِذا تَطَلَّع مِن لُجِّ السَرابِ يُرى

بَدراً غَدا بِهِلال الأُفقِ مُنتَعِلا

بَدراً غَدا بِهِلال الأُفقِ مُنتَعِلا

When it emerges from the depths of the mirage, it seems

Many are its channels of fresh water I frequented

a full moon shod with the crescent of the horizon.

While murky stagnant pools remained untasted

مَهما اِعتَسفت بِهِ أَقطار طامِسَةٍ

مَهما اِعتَسفت بِهِ أَقطار طامِسَةٍ

لِلجنِّ تَسمَعُ في أرجائِها زَجَلا

لِلجنِّ تَسمَعُ في أرجائِها زَجَلا

Whenever I ride it across dark, trackless regions,

And night casts its anklets upon the dunes

where you hear the jinn's clamor in their reaches,

As if it is a monk wrapped up in its garb

يَجتابُها كَالرِياح الهُوجِ عاصِفَةً

يَجتابُها كَالرِياح الهُوجِ عاصِفَةً

وَيَنثَني وَخِضابُ اللَيلِ ما نَصَلا

وَيَنثَني وَخِضابُ اللَيلِ ما نَصَلا

it crosses them like raging winds in full blast,

And the stars strewn upon the horizons you would think them

and turns back before night's dye has faded.

Perplexed like the disciples, unable to find their way

هَذا وَكَم مَنهَلٍ عَذبٍ مَوارِده

هَذا وَكَم مَنهَلٍ عَذبٍ مَوارِده

وَردتُهُ وَالقَطا الكُدريِّ ما نَهَلا

وَردتُهُ وَالقَطا الكُدريِّ ما نَهَلا

All this—and how many a watering place, its sources sweet,

I spurred it to fly while blue doves fled from it

have I reached before the dusky sandgrouse had drunk,

Repelled by its speed after having alighted

وَاللَيلُ مُلقٍ عَلى المُوماتِ كَلكَلُهُ

وَاللَيلُ مُلقٍ عَلى المُوماتِ كَلكَلُهُ

كَأَنَّهُ راهِبٌ في مسحِهِ اِشتَمَلا

كَأَنَّهُ راهِبٌ في مسحِهِ اِشتَمَلا

while night laid its breast upon the deserts,

Until it carried me to the land of Rome as refuge

like a monk wrapped in his haircloth robe,

To a meadow, a stable, cool water and fodder

وَالنَجمُ مُلقىً عَلى الآفاقِ تَحسَبُهُ

وَالنَجمُ مُلقىً عَلى الآفاقِ تَحسَبُهُ

حَيرانَ مِثلَ السُرى لا يَهتَدي سُبُلا

حَيرانَ مِثلَ السُرى لا يَهتَدي سُبُلا

and the stars lay strewn across the horizons—you would think them

And it said glad tidings, the garden of virtue! I said

bewildered, as on a night journey, unable to find a path.

The garden of Ibn Bustan and our Master. Yes, it replied

كَلفتُهُ طامِياً زرقُ الحَمامِ بِهِ

كَلفتُهُ طامِياً زرقُ الحَمامِ بِهِ

فَصَدّ مُستَنفِراً عَنهُ صُدودَ قِلى

فَصَدّ مُستَنفِراً عَنهُ صُدودَ قِلى

I urged it toward a swollen flood where blue-gray doves were;

It is the generous one whose gifts

it shied from it in alarm, recoiling in aversion,

Call even the unworthy to its bounty

وَمَرَّ كَالكَوكَبِ الدُرّيّ جَرّدَهُ

وَمَرَّ كَالكَوكَبِ الدُرّيّ جَرّدَهُ

غَيمٌ تَقَشَّع عَنهُ بَعدَما هَطَلا

غَيمٌ تَقَشَّع عَنهُ بَعدَما هَطَلا

and sped on like a brilliant star laid bare

If the sea surged one day, the surplus reaching

by a cloud dispersing after pouring rain,

All the lands would not match its surplus

حَتّى أَتى بِهِ أَرضَ الرومِ مُنتَجِعاً

حَتّى أَتى بِهِ أَرضَ الرومِ مُنتَجِعاً

رَوضاً أَريضاً وَماءً بارِداً وَكَلا

رَوضاً أَريضاً وَماءً بارِداً وَكَلا

until it bore him to the land of Rum, seeking

The moon rose radiant and the world shone beautifully

a fertile meadow, cool water, and pasture.

In an auspicious ascendant perfectly full

وَقالَ بُشراكَ رَوضُ الفَضلِ قُلتُ لَهُ

وَقالَ بُشراكَ رَوضُ الفَضلِ قُلتُ لَهُ

رَوضُ اِبنِ بُستانٍ وَمَولانا فَقالَ بَلى

رَوضُ اِبنِ بُستانٍ وَمَولانا فَقالَ بَلى

It said, 'Good tidings! The meadow of bounty!' I asked it,

And fate is a fortress safe from its pitfalls

'The meadow of Ibn Bustan, our lord?' It answered, 'Yes.'

So seek refuge in its thresholds whatever befalls

هُوَ الجَواد الَّذي سارَت مَواهِبُهُ

هُوَ الجَواد الَّذي سارَت مَواهِبُهُ

تَدعو العُفاةَ إِلى نُعمائِها الجَفَلى

تَدعو العُفاةَ إِلى نُعمائِها الجَفَلى

He is the munificent one whose gifts have traveled far,

You will find it a towering pillar of knowledge should it contend

summoning petitioners to their bounty, open to all.

The hills of Salma would seem light in comparison

وَالبَحرُ لَو فاضَ يَوماً فَضل نائِله

وَالبَحرُ لَو فاضَ يَوماً فَضل نائِله

عَلى جَميع البَرايا عَنهُمُ فَضَلا

عَلى جَميع البَرايا عَنهُمُ فَضَلا

And he is the sea: if his abundant bounty poured one day

The attractions of the world do not seduce it

upon all creation, it would still exceed their needs.

Nor is it seen as miserly in giving

وَالبَدرُ أَشرَقَت الدُنيا بِطَلعَتِهِ

وَالبَدرُ أَشرَقَت الدُنيا بِطَلعَتِهِ

في طالِعٍ حَسَنٍ بِالسَعدِ قَد كُمُلا

في طالِعٍ حَسَنٍ بِالسَعدِ قَد كُمُلا

And the full moon, at whose appearance the world shone,

Of masters who inherited nobility and divided up

under a fair ascendant, perfected by good fortune.

The glories of glory - domains and highness

وَالدَهرُ حِصنُ أَمانٍ مِن نَوائِبِهِ

وَالدَهرُ حِصنُ أَمانٍ مِن نَوائِبِهِ

فَلُذ بِأَعتابِهِ ما حادثٌ نَزَلا

فَلُذ بِأَعتابِهِ ما حادثٌ نَزَلا

And Time—a fortress of safety against its own calamities:

A luminous honesty adorned by a nature

so seek refuge at his thresholds whenever misfortune descends.

Like a garden blooming beautifully verdant

تَجِدهُ طَودَ عُلومٍ لَو يُوازِنُهُ

تَجِدهُ طَودَ عُلومٍ لَو يُوازِنُهُ

هِضابُ سَلمى لَخَفّت عَنهُ إِذ ثَقُلا

هِضابُ سَلمى لَخَفّت عَنهُ إِذ ثَقُلا

You will find him a mountain of learning; if weighed against him,

An eloquence that had it called even the deaf would answer

the hills of Salma would prove light, so weighty is he.

No tongue in Okaz would stand extemporizing thus

لا تَزدَهيهِ مِنَ الدُنيا مَطامِعُها

لا تَزدَهيهِ مِنَ الدُنيا مَطامِعُها

وَلا يُرى بِسِوى إِعطائِها جَذِلا

وَلا يُرى بِسِوى إِعطائِها جَذِلا

The world's coveted gains do not beguile him,

And a thought that crept on an obscure night

nor is he seen joyful except in giving it away.

Would appear to the intellects of all clear as daybreak

مِن سادَةٍ وَرِثوا العَلياءَ وَاِقتَسَموا

مِن سادَةٍ وَرِثوا العَلياءَ وَاِقتَسَموا

مَآثر المَجدِ مِنها سُؤدُداً وَعُلا

مَآثر المَجدِ مِنها سُؤدُداً وَعُلا

He comes from lords who inherited eminence and shared

And agreeable manners that if it blended with generosity

glory's noble deeds and, through them, lordship and exaltation.

Would temper the crude nature of the times

أَغَرّ طَلق المُحَيّا زانَهُ خُلُقٌ

أَغَرّ طَلق المُحَيّا زانَهُ خُلُقٌ

كَالرَوضِ أَزهَرَ أَحوى يانِعا خَضِلا

كَالرَوضِ أَزهَرَ أَحوى يانِعا خَضِلا

Radiant and open-faced, adorned by a character

When I came to its Hima, so spacious, it hosted me

like a meadow, flowering, deep green, flourishing and dewy.

Honoring me in its shade with lodging

ذُو مَنطِقٍ لَو دَعى قُسٌّ فَصاحَتُهُ

ذُو مَنطِقٍ لَو دَعى قُسٌّ فَصاحَتُهُ

ما قام وَسطَ عُكاظ قَطُّ مُرتَجِلا

ما قام وَسطَ عُكاظ قَطُّ مُرتَجِلا

A master of speech—had his eloquence summoned Quss,

And stretched out a white hand with dew

he would never have stood in ‘Ukaz to speak extempore.

That knew no refusal, poverty or stinginess

وَفِكرَةً ما سَرَت في لَيلِ غامِضَةٍ

وَفِكرَةً ما سَرَت في لَيلِ غامِضَةٍ

إِلّا تَجَلّت لِأَفهام الوَرى بِجَلا

إِلّا تَجَلّت لِأَفهام الوَرى بِجَلا

And a mind that never enters the night of an obscure question

And it congratulated me over a state I reached

without that question becoming plain to the minds of humankind.

Fulfilling my hopes of fate

وَشيمَةٌ عَذبَةٌ لَو مازَجَت كَرَماً

وَشيمَةٌ عَذبَةٌ لَو مازَجَت كَرَماً

خُلُقَ الزَّمانِ المُجافي لانَ وَاِعتَدَلا

خُلُقَ الزَّمانِ المُجافي لانَ وَاِعتَدَلا

And a sweet disposition: should it generously mingle with

Thanks be to God! This rain began with drops

the harsh temper of Time, that temper would soften and grow fair.

And I received its last torrents hopefully

لَمّا أَتيتُ حِماهُ الرَحبَ أَنزَلَني

لَمّا أَتيتُ حِماهُ الرَحبَ أَنزَلَني

مِنهُ وَأَكرَمني في ظِلّه نُزلا

مِنهُ وَأَكرَمني في ظِلّه نُزلا

When I came to his spacious precinct, he lodged me

Syrian in origin - let the questioner ask!

there and honored me with hospitality beneath his shade.

A stranger in the land of Rome without

وَمدّ نَحوي يَداً بَيضاءَ ذاتَ نَدىً

وَمدّ نَحوي يَداً بَيضاءَ ذاتَ نَدىً

لا تَعرِفُ المَطلَ وَالإِعسار وَالبَخَلا

لا تَعرِفُ المَطلَ وَالإِعسار وَالبَخَلا

He stretched toward me a white hand, full of bounty,

A match but you - so send her dowry promptly!

that knows no delay, want, or miserliness.

For the free man, it is said, is stingy when he gifts

فَراحَ يَغبطني كُلُّ الأَنامِ عَلى

فَراحَ يَغبطني كُلُّ الأَنامِ عَلى

مُنىً بلَغتُ بِها من دَهرِيَ الأَمَلا

مُنىً بلَغتُ بِها من دَهرِيَ الأَمَلا

Then all mankind began to envy me for

While you remain in my blessing, repeating and returning

wishes through which I gained from life the hope I sought.

However you wish, and your noble sons

وَالحَمدُ لِلَهِ هَذا الغَيثُ أَوّلُهُ

وَالحَمدُ لِلَهِ هَذا الغَيثُ أَوّلُهُ

قَطرٌ وَآخِرُهُ تَلقاهُ مُنهَمِلا

قَطرٌ وَآخِرُهُ تَلقاهُ مُنهَمِلا

And praise be to God: this rain begins

Not even the Damascene lightning that yearns for its homeland

with drops, but at its end you will find it pouring.

Ceased beseeching while in Rome without flagging

وَهاكِها مِن بَناتِ الفِكرِ غانِيَةً

وَهاكِها مِن بَناتِ الفِكرِ غانِيَةً

شامِية الأَصلِ مَهما سائِلٌ سَأَلا

شامِية الأَصلِ مَهما سائِلٌ سَأَلا

Here, take her, a beauty among the daughters of thought,

Syrian in origin, whenever a questioner asks;

غَريبَةً في بلاد الرومِ لَيسَ لَها

غَريبَةً في بلاد الرومِ لَيسَ لَها

كُفؤاً سِواكَ فَأَنفذ مَهرها عَجِلا

كُفؤاً سِواكَ فَأَنفذ مَهرها عَجِلا

a stranger in the lands of Rum, with no

worthy match but you—so send her dowry quickly.

فَغَيرُ حرٍّ كَما قَد قيلَ من مَطَلا

فَغَيرُ حرٍّ كَما قَد قيلَ من مَطَلا

يا من إِذا وَهبَ الدُنيا فَقَد بَخِلا

يا من إِذا وَهبَ الدُنيا فَقَد بَخِلا

For he who delays payment is not noble, as has been said,

O you who, even were you to give the world, would still be sparing!

لا زِلتَ في نِعمَتي عِيدٍ وَعائِدَةٍ

لا زِلتَ في نِعمَتي عِيدٍ وَعائِدَةٍ

كَما تَشَأ وَبَنُوكَ السادَةُ الفُضَلا

كَما تَشَأ وَبَنُوكَ السادَةُ الفُضَلا

May you ever enjoy the twin blessings of festival and renewed bounty,

as you wish, with your sons, noble and virtuous lords,

ما شامَ بالرومِ بَرقُ الشامِ ذُو شَجَنٍ

ما شامَ بالرومِ بَرقُ الشامِ ذُو شَجَنٍ

يَصبُو إِلى وَطَنٍ ما عَنهُ قَطّ سَلا

يَصبُو إِلى وَطَنٍ ما عَنهُ قَطّ سَلا

so long as, in Rum, a sorrowing man watches the lightning of al-Sham,

yearning for a homeland he has never ceased to love.