أَخا الريم ما هَذي العُيون القَواتِلُ

أَخا الريم ما هَذي العُيون القَواتِلُ

بَقيت لِتفنينا وَهَذي الشَمائِلُ

بَقيت لِتفنينا وَهَذي الشَمائِلُ

O brother of the gazelle, what deadly eyes are these!

O brother of rain, what are these deadly eyes,

May you live on to destroy us—and what graces are these!

That remain to destroy us, and these perfect features,

فَماء حَياة ما تَحوز مَراشف

فَماء حَياة ما تَحوز مَراشف

وَرَوضة حُسن ما تَضُم الغَلائِلُ

وَرَوضة حُسن ما تَضُم الغَلائِلُ

For what your lips hold is the water of life,

The water of life hoards no pillows,

and what the fine robes enfold is a garden of beauty.

And the garden of beauty holds no branches.

وَتَخجَل أَغصان الرُبى أَن تَمايَلَت

وَتَخجَل أَغصان الرُبى أَن تَمايَلَت

قَضيب لجين بَين بُرديك مائِلُ

قَضيب لجين بَين بُرديك مائِلُ

And the branches on the hills blush for having swayed;

The boughs of lote-trees are too shy to sway

a silver branch leans between your two cloaks.

As a supple branch between your sleeves is tilted.

وَلَو أَنَّ في بَدر الدُجى مِنكَ لَمحة

وَلَو أَنَّ في بَدر الدُجى مِنكَ لَمحة

لَما شانَهُ نَقص وَلا قيلَ آفلُ

لَما شانَهُ نَقص وَلا قيلَ آفلُ

And had the full moon of night a glimmer of you,

Had the full moon glimpsed a flash of you,

no waning would mar it, nor would it be said to set.

It would not have waned or been called a crescent.

تَروح بِكَ الأَلباب نَهبى كَأَنَّها

تَروح بِكَ الأَلباب نَهبى كَأَنَّها

قَبائل تَسبيها بِبَدر قَبائِلُ

قَبائل تَسبيها بِبَدر قَبائِلُ

Minds are carried off by you as plunder, as though they were

You plunder hearts and minds as if they are

tribes taken captive at Badr by tribes.

Tribes captured by the full moon capturing crescents.

كَثيرٌ مِن الأَرواح أَنتَ حَياتُها

كَثيرٌ مِن الأَرواح أَنتَ حَياتُها

وَإِن هِيَ راحَت في هَواكَ قَلائِلُ

وَإِن هِيَ راحَت في هَواكَ قَلائِلُ

Many are the souls whose life you are,

You are the life of many souls,

and even if they perish for love of you, they are but few.

Though few find peace in your love.

أَبيت بِحال لَيسَ يَعلَمُها سِوى

أَبيت بِحال لَيسَ يَعلَمُها سِوى

فُؤاد شَجيٍّ لِلنُجوم يشاكلُ

فُؤاد شَجيٍّ لِلنُجوم يشاكلُ

I pass the night in a state none knows except

I remain in a state known only to

the heart of one in sorrow, akin to the stars.

A heart rent asunder, matching the stars.

يُجرد لي مِن جفنِهِ اللَيل صارِماً

يُجرد لي مِن جفنِهِ اللَيل صارِماً

أَسميهِ صُبحاً وَهُوَ بِالفكر جائِلُ

أَسميهِ صُبحاً وَهُوَ بِالفكر جائِلُ

Night draws for me a sharp sword from its sheath;

The night strips slumber from my eyes like a blade,

I call it dawn, while it roams through my thoughts.

And though it’s dark, my thoughts call it dawn.

وَجِسمي لِضيفان السقام مَوائِدٌ

وَجِسمي لِضيفان السقام مَوائِدٌ

وَدَمعي لِزوّار الغَرام مَناهِلُ

وَدَمعي لِزوّار الغَرام مَناهِلُ

And my body serves as banquet tables for sickness's guests,

My body is a banquet hall for sickness and disease,

and my tears are watering places for passion's visitors.

My tears, springs for the caravan of passion.

وَلَستُ عَلى رَسم الطُلول بِنادِبٍ

وَلَستُ عَلى رَسم الطُلول بِنادِبٍ

وَلا سائل عَن ذاهب هُوَ زائِلُ

وَلا سائل عَن ذاهب هُوَ زائِلُ

And I do not lament the traces of ruined camps,

I do not mourn the loss of a lover or question

nor ask after one departed, who is passing away.

One departed, he who is bound to leave.

وَلَكِنَّني أَبكي المَعالي وَأَهلَها

وَلَكِنَّني أَبكي المَعالي وَأَهلَها

فَهَذا الَّذي أَهوى وَهَذي المَنازِلُ

فَهَذا الَّذي أَهوى وَهَذي المَنازِلُ

But I weep for lofty virtues and their bearers;

Rather, I weep for the noble and their abodes,

for this is what I love, and these are the dwellings.

For these are what I love, these are my homes.

وَلَيسَ يَليقُ المَدح إِلّا بِأَهلِهِ

وَلَيسَ يَليقُ المَدح إِلّا بِأَهلِهِ

وَإِن كَثُرَت قَصدٌ وَطالَت رَسائِلُ

وَإِن كَثُرَت قَصدٌ وَطالَت رَسائِلُ

And praise befits only those worthy of it,

Praise suits only the worthy,

even if odes abound and epistles grow long.

Though many may court it and send missives.

إِلَيكَ أَتَت تَسعى مَطايا مَآربي

إِلَيكَ أَتَت تَسعى مَطايا مَآربي

وَهُنَّ لِعُمري عَن سِواكِ جَوافِلُ

وَهُنَّ لِعُمري عَن سِواكِ جَوافِلُ

To you have come, hastening, the mounts of my wishes,

My ambitions came to you astride steeds

and, by my life, they shy away from anyone but you.

While they, by my life, loathe all but you.

وَجاءَتكَ عَطشى تَرتَجيك لِعلمِها

وَجاءَتكَ عَطشى تَرتَجيك لِعلمِها

بَأَنك بَحرٌ وَالبُحور جَداوِلُ

بَأَنك بَحرٌ وَالبُحور جَداوِلُ

And they came to you thirsty, placing their hope in you, for they know

Thirsty, they came to you knowing

that you are a sea, while the seas are mere streams.

You are an ocean, and oceans, streams.