1. وُلُوْعٌ بَتذكارِ الأحبَّةِ لا يَفْنَى

    وفرطُ حنينٍ في المنازلِ لو أغنى

    A passion for remembering loved ones that never dies,

    and boundless longing amid their dwellings—if only it availed!

  2. ودمعٌ غزيرٌ بعدَ جيرانِ حاجرٍ

    يُخَجَّلُ هامي غَربِ دِمتهِ المُزْنا

    And copious tears after Hajir's neighbors have departed,

    whose steady rain pours in floods, putting rainclouds to shame.

  3. أُوزَّعُه يوماً على الهجرِ والنوى

    ويوماً إذا ما اجتزتُ بالربعِ والمغنى

    I apportion them one day to estrangement and separation,

    and another day, whenever I pass the dwelling and abode.

  4. ومنزلِ لهوٍ مذ وقفتُ بربعِه

    عقيبَ نوى سكانِه قارعاً سنّا

    And many a dwelling of delight—since I stood within its precincts,

    after its dwellers' departure, gnashing my teeth,

  5. أُنادي به لُبنى واِن كنت لا أرى

    سوى مربع بالي الرسومِ ولا لُبنى

    I call for Lubna there, although I see

    only a spring camp, its traces worn away, and no Lubna,

  6. على العادةِ الأولى فلّلهِ درُّها

    قُبَيلَ النوى ما كان أصفى وما أهنا

    as was my former habit—God bless her!

    Just before parting, how serene it was, how blissful!

  7. وللهِ أيامٌ حظيتُ على الحمى

    بها مثلَ رَجْعِ الطَّرْفِ ثمَّ انجلتْ عنّا

    And blessed were the days I found happiness in the Hima,

    as fleeting as an eye's blink; then they passed from us.

  8. لئن لا مني العُذّالُ فيها فما لهم

    ضلوعي التي مِن جمرِ الغَضا تُحنى

    Though the reproachers blame me for her, they do not share

    my ribs, bent by the embers of ghada wood.

  9. ولا قطفوا باللثمِ وردةَ خَدَّها

    ولا هصروا في ثِني أبرادِها الغصنا

    Nor have they plucked with kisses the rose of her cheek,

    nor bent the bough within the folds of her robes.

  10. مهفهفةٌ كم باتَ يَحسِدُ قربَها

    اليَّ النوى حتى اشتفى فعلُها منّا

    Slender-waisted—how often separation envied her nearness through the night

    to me, until its work had sated its vengeance on us!

  11. لعمري لقد أمهى لها البينُ بعدما

    تدانى مزارنا مخالِبَهُ الحُجْنا

    By my life, separation sharpened against her—after

    we had come within easy visiting reach—its hooked talons.

  12. وسارتْ فقلبي بعدما بانَ أُنسُها

    كأنّي أراه حلَّ مِن بعدِها سِجنا

    She left; and my heart, once her companionship was gone,

    seems to me to have settled in prison since she left.

  13. فيا ليتها عادتْ وعادتْ بأهلِها

    حميدةَ أوقاتِ التداني كما كنّا

    If only she returned, and with her people returned

    the happy times of closeness we once knew!

  14. لقد حَسَدَتْ عينايَ عندَ سُهادِها

    عقيبَ نوى أحبابها المقلةَ الوسنى

    Indeed, my eyes in their sleeplessness have envied,

    after their loved ones' departure, the drowsy eye.

  15. اِذا نفحاتُ الريحِ هبَّتْ عنِ الغَضا

    معطَّرةَ الأنفاسِ مِن نحوِها هِمنا

    When wafts of wind blow from the ghada trees,

    their breaths perfumed from her quarter, we are mad with longing.

  16. علامةُ أهلِ الوجدِ طرفٌ مسهَّدٌ

    يفيضُ بقاني الدمعِ أو جسدٌ مضنى

    The mark of lovers is a sleepless eye

    overflowing with crimson tears, or a wasted body.

  17. وما روضةٌ قد وشَّعَتْها يدُ الحيا

    فأبدتْ لنا أزهارُها الملبسَ الأسنى

    No garden that the hand of rain has embroidered,

    whose flowers showed us the most splendid attire,

  18. سرى في حواشيها النسيمُ معنبراً

    وجرَّ بليلاً في جوانبها الرُّدْنا

    through whose borders an ambergris-scented breeze stole by night

    and trailed its damp sleeve along its sides,

  19. وحلَّ عليها المزنُ أخلافَ دَرَّهِ

    وميَّلَ فيها الريحُ أغصانَها اللُّدْنا

    over which rainclouds unloosed their milk-laden udders,

    and where the wind swayed its supple branches,

  20. بأحسنَ منها يومَ زارتْ وقد جَلا

    صباحُ محيّاها لنا الأمنَ واليُمنا

    is lovelier than she was the day she visited, when

    the dawn of her face revealed safety and good fortune to us.

  21. فيا سائقَ الأنضاءِ يأتمُّ حاجراً

    رويدكَ كم تُفنى بها السَّهْل والحَزْنا

    O driver of the worn-out camels, heading for Hajir,

    gently now! How much plain and rugged land you wear away with them!

  22. يَطيرُ على وجهِ الثرى مِن لُغامِها

    اِذا احتثَّها العادونَ ما أشبه العِهْنا

    Across the earth's face their foam goes flying,

    when the runners urge them on, looking just like wool.

  23. نواحلُ قد أنضيتُهُنَّ إلى الحمى

    وقد كنَّ في الأرسانِ قبلَ النوى بُدْنا

    Lean she-camels—I have worn them out on the way to the Hima,

    though, in their halters before parting, they were plump.

  24. فَعُجْ أيُّها العَجْلانُ بي نحوَ حاجرٍ

    فلولا أليمُ الهجرِ والشوقِ ما عُجْنا

    So turn aside with me, you hurrying man, toward Hajir;

    but for the pain of estrangement and longing, we would not have turned.

  25. أسائلُ أطلالَ الديارِ واِنَّها

    لتورِثُنا الهمَّ المبرَّحَ والحُزْنا

    I question the ruins of the dwellings, although they

    indeed bequeath us tormenting anguish and sorrow.

  26. فأُقسمُ لولا جاحمُ الوجدِ لم نَبُحْ

    بسرًّ ولولا البينُ فيهنَّ ما نُحْنا

    So I swear: but for longing's blaze, we would not have divulged

    a secret; and but for the parting there, we would not have wailed.

  27. وما ذاتُ طوقٍ في الظلامِ شجيةٌ

    تُردَّدُ في الأغصانِ مِنْ شوقِها اللحنا

    And no ring-necked dove, mournful in the darkness,

    repeating among the boughs a melody born of longing—

  28. لقد أفصحتْ عما أَجَنَّ ضميرُها

    الى أن غدونا عند اِفصاحِها لُكْنا

    indeed, she has voiced what her heart concealed,

    till her eloquence has left us tongue-tied;

  29. اِذا ما تغنَّتْ فوقَ غصنِ أراكةٍ

    طربنا فحييَّنا أراكتَها الغَنّا

    when she sings upon a bough of an arak tree,

    we thrill and salute her luxuriant arak tree;

  30. وخامرنا مِن نفحةِ البانِ نشوةٌ

    رفضنا لِجرّاها السلافةَ والدَّنّا

    and an ecstasy from the breath of moringa steals through us,

    for whose sake we spurn the choicest wine and the wine-jar—

  31. بأطربَ مِن شعري وأين كمثلِه

    قريضٌ عليه تَحسِدُ المقلةُ الأذِنا

    is more stirring than my verse; and where is its equal,

    verse for whose sake the eye envies the ear?

  32. اِذا ما دعا العُصْمَ استجابتْ صبابةً

    اليه وأنساها شوامِخُها الرَّعْنا

    When it calls the white-footed ibex, they respond with longing

    to it, and it makes them forget their towering crags.

  33. فكيف إذا ما الصبُّ رجعَّ صوتَه

    به عند تَذكارِ الأحبَّةِ أو غنّى

    How then, when the lovelorn man trills his voice

    with it, remembering loved ones, or sings it?

  34. اِذاً لسمعتَ الوجدَ تُروى صحيحةً

    أحاديثُه في كلَّ ناحيةٍ عنّا

    Then you would hear of passion, faithfully related—

    its tales in every quarter, handed down from us.