ليت الذي خلق الحياة جميلة — Elia Abu Madi

لَيتَ الَّذي خَلَقَ الحَياةَ جَميلَةً

لَم يُسدِلِ الأَستارَ فَوقَ جَمالِها

Would that he who created life beautiful

had not drawn veils over her beauty.

بَل يَيتَهُ سَلَبَ العُقولَ فَلَم يَكُن

أَحَدٌ يُعَلِّلُ نَفسَهُ بِمَنالِها

Rather, would that he had taken reason away, so that no

one could console himself with hope of attaining her.

لِلَّهِ كَمتُغري الفَتى بِوِصالِها

وَتَضُنُّ حَتّى في الكَرى بِوِصالِها

By God, how she tempts the youth with union with her,

yet begrudges him union even in sleep.

تُدنيهِ مِن أَبوابِها بِيَمينِها

وَتَرُدُّهُعَن خِدرِها بِشَمالِها

She draws him near her doors with her right hand,

and turns him from her chamber with her left.

كَم قُلتُ هَذا الأَمرُ بَعضُ صَوابِها

فَوَجَدتُهُ بِالخَبَرِ بَعضَ مَحالِها

How often I said, 'This matter is part of her wisdom,'

then found through experience that it was one of her absurdities.

وَلَكَم خُدِعتُ بِئالِها وَذَمَمتُهُ

وَرَجِعتُ أَظمَأَ ما أَكونُ لِئالِها

And how often her mirage deceived me, and I condemned it,

yet returned as thirsty as I could be for her mirage.

قَد كُنتُ أَحسَبُني أَمِنتُ ضَلالَها

فَإِذا الَّذي خَمَّنتُ كُلُّ ضَلالِها

I had thought myself safe from her deception,

and behold, what I had supposed was all her deception.

إِنَّ النُفوسَ تَغُرُّها آمالُها

وَتَظَلُّ عاكِفَةً عَلى آمالِها

Souls are deceived by their hopes,

and remain devoted to their hopes.

ذَهَبَ الصِبا وَأَنا أُعالِجُ سِرَّها

مُتَحَيِّراً في كَنَهِها وَمَآلَها

Youth passed while I grappled with her secret,

bewildered by her essence and her end,

حَتّى رَأَيتُ الشَمسَ تُلقي نورَها

في الأَرضِ فَوقَ سُهولِها بِحِبالِها

until I saw the sun cast her light

upon the earth, over its plains, with her cords;

وَرَأَيتُ أَحقَرَ ما بَناهُ عَنكَبٌ

مُتَلَفِّفاً وَمُطَوَّقاً بِحِبالِها

and saw the humblest thing a spider had built

wrapped and encircled in her cords,

مِثلَ القُصورِ العالِياتِ قِبابُها

الشامِخاتِ عَلى الذَرى بِقِلالِها

like palaces whose domes rise high,

towering with their summits upon the peaks.

فَعَلِمتُ أَنَّ النَفسَ تَخطُرُ في الحِلى

وَالوَشيِ مِثلُ النَفسِ في أَسمالِها

Then I knew that the soul parading in jewels

and brocade is like the soul in its rags.

لَيسَت حَياتَكَ غَيرَ ما صَوَّرتَها

أَنتَ الحَياةُ بِصَمتِها وَمَقالِها

Your life is only what you have imagined her to be;

you are life, in her silence and her speech.

وَلَقَد نَظَرتُ إِلى الحَمائِمِ في الرُبى

فَعَجِبتُ مِن حالِ الأَنامِ وَحالِها

And I looked upon the doves on the hills,

and marveled at humankind's condition and theirs.

لِلشَوكِ حَظُّ الوَردِ مِن تَغريدِها

وَسَيكَهُ مِن بَعدُ في إِعوالِها

The thorns have the roses' share of their song,

and later share with them in their wailing.

تَشدو وَصائِدُها يَمُدُّ لَها الرَدى

فَاِعجَب لِمُحسِنَةٍ إِلى مُغتالِها

They sing while their hunter holds out death to them;

so marvel at one who is kind to her killer.

فَغَبَطتُها في أَمنِها وَسَلامِها

وَوَدَدتُ لَو أُعطيتُ راحَةَ بالِها

So I envied their safety and peace,

and wished I might be granted their peace of mind.

وَجَعَلتُ مَذهَبَها مِنَفسِيَ مَذهَباً

وَنَسَجتُ أَخلاقي عَلى مِنوالِها

And I made their way my own way,

and wove my character upon their loom.

مَن لَجَّ في ضَيمي تَرَكتُ سَمائَهُ

تَبكي عَلَيَّ بِشَمسِها وَهِلالِها

Whoever persisted in wronging me, I left his sky

to weep for me with its sun and crescent.

وَهَجَرتُ رَوضَتُهُ فَأَصبَحَ وَردُها

لِليَأسِ كَالأَشواكِ في أَدغالِها

And I abandoned his garden, so its roses became,

in despair, like thorns within its thickets.

وَزَجَرتُ نَفسي أَن تَميلَ كَنَفسِهِ

عَن كَوثَرِ الدُنيا إِلى أَوحالِها

And I forbade my soul to turn, like his,

from the world's abundance toward its mire.

نِسيانُكَ الجاني المُسيءَ فَضيلَةٌ

وَخُمودُ نارٍ جَدَّ في إِشعالِها

Forgetting the offender who wronged you is a virtue,

and the quenching of a fire he labored to ignite.

فَاِربَء بِنَفسِكَ وَالحَياةُ قَصيرَةٌ

أَن تَجعَلَ الأَضغانَ مِن أَحمالِها

So rise above—life is short—

making grudges part of its burdens.

زَمَنَ الشَبابِ رَحَلتَ غَيرَ مُذَمَّمٍ

وَتَرَكتَ لِلحَسَراتِ قَلبي الوالِها

O time of youth, you departed without reproach,

and left my distraught heart to regrets.

دَبَّت عَقارِبُها إِلَيهِ تَنوشُهُ

وَرَمَت بَقاياهُ إِلى أَصلالِها

Their scorpions crept toward it, assailing it,

and cast its remnants to their vipers.

لَم يَبقَ مِن لَذّاتِهِ إِلّا الرُأى

وَمِنَ الصَبابَةِ غَيرُ طَيفِ خَيالِها

Of its pleasures nothing remained but visions,

and of ardent love, only the phantom of its image;

وَمِنَ الكُؤوسِ سِوى صَدى رَبنّاتِها

وَالراحِ غَيرُ خُمارِها وَخُبالِها

and of the cups, only the echo of their chimes,

and of wine, only its hangover and delirium.

يا جَنَّةً عوجِلَت عَن أَثمارِها

وَلَذاذَةً عُرِّيَت مِن سِربالِها

O garden, cut short before it could bear fruit,

and delight stripped of its robe!

أعابَها شَيءٌ سِوى اِضمِحلالُها

وَالذَنبُ لِلأَقدارِ في اِضمِحلالِها

Did anything mar it except its passing?

And fate bears the blame for its passing.

وَمَليحَةٍ في وَجهِها أَلَقُ الضُحى

وَالسِحرُ وَالصَهباءُ في أَقوالِها

And a lovely woman, whose face held the morning's radiance,

and whose words held enchantment and tawny wine,

قالَت أَيَنسى النازِحونَ بِلادَهُم

ما هاجَ حُزنَ القَلبِ غَيرُ سُؤالِها

said, 'Do those far from home forget their homeland?'

Nothing stirred my heart's sorrow but her question.

الأَرضُ سورِيّا أَحَبُّ رُبوعِها

عِندي وَلُبنانُ أَعَزُ جِبالِها

Of all the earth, Syria is the dearest region

to me, and Lebanon its most treasured mountains.

وَالناسُ أَكرَمَهُم عَلَيَّ عَشيرُها

روحي الفِداءُ لِرَهطِها وَلِئالِها

Of all people, her kindred are most honored by me;

my soul is a ransom for her people and her kin.

وَالشُهبُ أَسطَعُها الَّتي في أُفقِها

لَيسَ الجَلالُ الحَقُّ غَيرَ جَلالِها

Of all the stars, the brightest are those on her horizon;

there is no true majesty but hers.

وَأَحَبُّ غَيثٍ ما هَمى في أَرضِها

حَتّى الحَيا الباكي عَلى أَطلالِها

And the rain I love most is what falls upon her soil,

even the showers weeping over her ruins.

مَرَحُ الصِبا الجَذلانِ في أَسحارِها

وَمُنى الصِبا الوَلهانِ في آصالِها

The mirth of joyous youth is in her predawn hours,

and the wishes of lovesick youth in her evenings.

إِنّي لَأَعرِفُ ريحَها مِن غَيرِها

بِنَوافِخِ الأَشذاءِ في أَذيالِها

I can surely tell her breeze from any other,

by the wafts of fragrance in its trailing skirts.

تِلكَ المَنازِلُ كَم خَطَرتُ بِساحِها

في ظِلِّ ضَيغَمِها وَعَطفِ غَزالِها

Those homes—how often I strolled through their courtyards,

in their lion's shelter and their gazelle's tenderness.

وَشَذَوتُ مَع أَطيارِها وَسَهِرتُ مَع

أَقمارِها وَرَقَصتُ مَع شَلّالِها

And I sang with her birds and kept vigil with

her moons, and danced with her waterfall;

وَسَجَدتُ لِلإِلهامِ مَع صَفصافِها

وَضَحِكتُ لِلأَحلامِ مَع وَزّالِها

and bowed before inspiration with her willows,

and laughed at dreams with her broom shrubs.

وَمَلَأتُ عَقلي مِن حَديثِ شُيوخِها

وَأَخَذتُ شِعري مِن لَغى أَطفالِها

And I filled my mind with her elders' talk,

and drew my poetry from her children's babble.

تَشتاقُ عَيني قَبلَ يُغمِضُها الأَدى

لَو أَنَّها اِكتَحَلَت وَلَو بِرِمالِها

My eye longs, before death closes it,

to be lined, even with her sand as kohl.

مَرَّت بِيَ الأَعوامُ تَقفو بَعضَها

وَثَبَ القَطا تَعدو إِلى آجالِها

The years passed me by, each following another,

leaping like sandgrouse, racing toward their appointed ends;

وَتَعاقَبَت صُوَرُ الجَمالِ فَلَم يَدُم

في خاطِري مِنها سِوى تِمثالَها

and images of beauty followed one another, yet none endured

in my thoughts except her likeness.