أَسيرُ الهَمِّ نائي الصَبرِ عانِ

أَسيرُ الهَمِّ نائي الصَبرِ عانِ

تُحَدِّثُ عَن جَواهُ المُقلَتانِ

تُحَدِّثُ عَن جَواهُ المُقلَتانِ

A captive of sorrow, bereft of patience, in thrall;

The prisoner of worries, remote is my patience

A prisoner of sorrow, patience distant, bound in chains,

His two eyes tell of his burning anguish.

My two eyes converse about his qualities

His weeping eyes betray the burning passion of his soul,

نَفى عَن عَينِهِ التَهجادَ بَدرٌ

نَفى عَن عَينِهِ التَهجادَ بَدرٌ

تَأَلَّقَ في المَحاسِنِ غُصنَ بانِ

تَأَلَّقَ في المَحاسِنِ غُصنَ بانِ

A full moon banished sleep from his eye,

The full moon denied its splendor from his eyes

A full moon's visage has exiled all slumber from his gaze,

Resplendent in beauty, like a bān-tree bough.

A branch of acacia gleamed in beauty

Shining among beauties like the slender Ban tree bough,

وَمُنتَسِبٍ إِلى آباءِ صِدقٍ

وَمُنتَسِبٍ إِلى آباءِ صِدقٍ

خَطَبتُ لَهُ مُعَتَّقَةَ الدِنانِ

خَطَبتُ لَهُ مُعَتَّقَةَ الدِنانِ

And a man descended from honorable forefathers—

And belonging to fathers of sincerity

And for a comrade tracing lineage to noble sires,

For him I wooed the wine aged in jars.

I asked for his hand, the unchained lady

I sought the hand of the aged vintage stored within the casks,

فَلَمّا صَبَّها في صَحنِ كَأسٍ

فَلَمّا صَبَّها في صَحنِ كَأسٍ

حَكَت لِلعَينِ لَونَ البَهرَمانِ

حَكَت لِلعَينِ لَونَ البَهرَمانِ

Then, when he poured it into a cup's bowl,

So when she poured it in the cup's dish

And when he poured it out into the hollow of the cup,

To the eye it matched the hue of safflower.

She narrated to the eye the color of cornelian

It mimicked to the eye the vivid crimson safflower's hue,

كَأَنَّ الكَأسَ تَسحَبُ ذَيلَ دُرٍّ

كَأَنَّ الكَأسَ تَسحَبُ ذَيلَ دُرٍّ

كَسَتها الخَمرُ حُلَّةَ زَعفَرانِ

كَسَتها الخَمرُ حُلَّةَ زَعفَرانِ

The cup seemed to trail a train of pearls,

As if the cup drags the train of a pearl

As though the goblet trailed a hem of pearls behind it,

Clothed by the wine in a saffron robe.

Wine dressed it in the attire of saffron

Which the wine had clothed within a robe of saffron gold,

بِمُسمِعَةٍ إِذا غَنَّت بِصَوتٍ

بِمُسمِعَةٍ إِذا غَنَّت بِصَوتٍ

أَجابَتها المَثالِثُ وَالمَثاني

أَجابَتها المَثالِثُ وَالمَثاني

With a songstress: whenever she sang aloud,

With a drinking companion, when she sang in a voice

Beside a songstress who, when she enchants with singing voice,

The third and second strings answered her.

Alto and soprano voices responded to her

Is answered by the lute's strings in their harmony and chords,

إِذا ما نِلتُ مِن عَيشي رَخاءً

إِذا ما نِلتُ مِن عَيشي رَخاءً

وَصِرتُ مِنَ النَوائِبِ في أَمانِ

وَصِرتُ مِنَ النَوائِبِ في أَمانِ

Whenever I gain ease in my life,

When I get luxury in my life

If ever I attain a life of prosperity and ease,

And find myself safe from calamities,

And I become safe from tribulations

And find myself secure against the calamities of time,

رَكِبتُ غِوايَتي وَتَرَكتُ رُشدي

رَكِبتُ غِوايَتي وَتَرَكتُ رُشدي

وَكَفُّ الجَهلِ مُطلِقَةٌ عِناني

وَكَفُّ الجَهلِ مُطلِقَةٌ عِناني

I mount my waywardness and abandon my good sense,

I rode my passions and left my righteousness

I ride the steed of my temptation and forsake the prudent path,

While folly's hand lets loose my reins.

The curb of ignorance totally loosened its rein on me

While the hand of ignorance lets loose the slack upon my reins,

أَلا ما لِلمَشيبِ وَما لِرَأسي

أَلا ما لِلمَشيبِ وَما لِرَأسي

حَمى عَنّي العُيونَ وَما حَماني

حَمى عَنّي العُيونَ وَما حَماني

Ah, what has gray hair to do with my head?

Alas! What is old age to me and what is my head

Alas, what business has this graying hair with my poor head?

It kept eyes away from me, yet did not protect me.

Eyes warded me off but did not protect me

It barred admiring eyes from me, yet gave me no defense.