الصيف أين هو الحبيب فما أرى

الصيف أين هو الحبيب فما أرى

وهجا ينمّ عليه أو أحلاما

وهجا ينمّ عليه أو أحلاما

Summer—where is the beloved? For I see no

Where is the beloved summer, for I see no

glow that hints at his presence, nor any dreams.

Glow to awaken it, nor any dreams

الجو تخنقه الدموع لوحشة

الجو تخنقه الدموع لوحشة

والشمس أرهقا الغمام خصاما

والشمس أرهقا الغمام خصاما

The air, choked by tears of loneliness,

The air is choked by tears of loneliness

and the sun have wearied the clouds with strife.

And the sun wearies the clouds with strife

من صدّه عنا ونحن رعيّة

من صدّه عنا ونحن رعيّة

ولم أستبدّ بنا وكان إماما

ولم أستبدّ بنا وكان إماما

Who turned him away from us, though we are his subjects?

Who has turned him from us, we who are his flock

And why did he tyrannize over us, though he was a leader?

Yet I did not rebel, and he was the imam

أيجيء موعده بسخر جائر

أيجيء موعده بسخر جائر

ويكون مولده الأغر ظلاما

ويكون مولده الأغر ظلاما

Will his appointed time arrive with cruel mockery,

Does his time come with an unjust mocker

and his radiant birth be darkness?

And is his gentle birth but darkness?

لمن الأزاهير الحسان تبرّجت

لمن الأزاهير الحسان تبرّجت

والنحل والحشرات إذ تتسامى

والنحل والحشرات إذ تتسامى

For whom have the lovely flowers displayed their beauty,

For whom have the beautiful flowers adorned themselves

and the bees and insects, as they soar?

And the bees and insects as they rise up high?

ولمن تعطّرت الطيوف وهوّمت

ولمن تعطّرت الطيوف وهوّمت

وتجاوبت بنفوسنا أنغاما

وتجاوبت بنفوسنا أنغاما

And for whom have the visions perfumed themselves and hovered,

For whom have the ghosts perfumed themselves and stirred

and echoed as melodies within our souls?

And tones echoed in our souls?

أمشرّد عنّا وتلك ربوعه

أمشرّد عنّا وتلك ربوعه

فعلام بشّرنا الربوع علاما

فعلام بشّرنا الربوع علاما

Is he banished from us, though those are his lands?

He is lost from us, yet those are his meadows

Then why did the lands bring us glad tidings—why?

Why then have the meadows given us omens?

نهفو إلى الدفء الجميل فلا نرى

نهفو إلى الدفء الجميل فلا نرى

إلا الشتاء الساخر اللواما

إلا الشتاء الساخر اللواما

We yearn for lovely warmth, yet see nothing

We yearn for the beautiful warmth but see only

but mocking, reproachful winter.

The mocking, blaming winter

وكأنما هذي المناظر كلها

وكأنما هذي المناظر كلها

وهم وتمثيل طغى وترامى

وهم وتمثيل طغى وترامى

And it is as though all these scenes

It is as if all these scenes

were illusion and play-acting, running rampant and spreading far.

Are fantasy, excess, and vanity