1. فراقٌ رمى قَلبي بِسُقم وأوصابِ

    وَيا لَيتَهُ للقرب من بعد أَوصى بي

    Separation struck my heart with sickness and afflictions;

    would that, after driving me far, it had commended me to nearness.

  2. سَقِمتُ وَزادَت صبوَتي ثمّ ما اِشتَفى

    سقامي بِشَهدٍ من عذول وَلا صابِ

    I sickened, and my yearning grew; yet my malady found no cure

    in a reproacher’s honey, nor in bitter aloe.

  3. كَأَنّي لَم أَمرَح وَأَمزَح مع الرشا

    بمصر وَلَم أَفرح بصحبي وَأَحبابي

    As though I had never rejoiced and jested with the gazelle

    in Egypt, nor delighted in my companions and loved ones;

  4. وَلَم تَرَني عِندَ اِلتقاءِ حَبائبي

    هنالك لَم أَحفل بعلمي وآدابي

    as though you had never seen me when I met my beloveds,

    there caring nothing for my learning or my letters;

  5. وَلَم أَرمِ عذّالي وَأَحفظ قاتِلي

    وَحاجبهُ وَاللَحظُ قَوسي وَنُشّابي

    nor seen me shoot at my reproachers while guarding my slayer,

    whose eyebrow and glance were my bow and arrows;

  6. وَلَم يَك نَقلي اللثمَ في صحن خدّه

    وَبالثغر أَو بالريق خَمري وَأَكوابي

    nor was a kiss upon the broad court of his cheek my wine’s relish,

    while his mouth—or his saliva—was my wine and my cups.

  7. وَلَم تسلبي يا عَزُّ قَلبيَ واجِباً

    فَأَمسى ذَليلاً طوع سلب وَإِيجابِ

    Nor did you, O ‘Azz, take my heart as your rightful due,

    leaving it abased, obedient alike to taking and granting.

  8. وَلَم أَتنسّك خوف واشٍ وَأَعتَكِف

    ووجهك قنديلي وصدعك محرابي

    Nor did I turn devout for fear of an informer and withdraw,

    with your face as my lamp and your temple as my prayer niche.

  9. عُهودٌ مضَت لَم يبق إِلّا اِدّكارُها

    وَلَم يَبق من أَسمائها غَيرُ أَلقابِ

    Covenants have passed away; nothing remains but their remembrance,

    and nothing of their names remains except mere titles.

  10. وَدَهرٌ مَضى لَو كانَ بِالوَصلِ عائِداً

    لَزار الرِضى مِن بَعد سقم وَإِغضابِ

    An age has passed—if only it could return bearing union,

    contentment would visit after sickness and anger.

  11. تَقضّى بإِيجازٍ وَخلَّفَ بعدهُ

    زَمان النَوى لا دام عِندي بإِسهابِ

    It ended with brevity, then left behind it

    an age of separation—may it not long endure for me—in prolixity.

  12. أَأَحباب قَلبي كَيفَ حلّلتم الأَسى

    وَأحرمتمُ نَومي يلِمُّ بأَهدابي

    O beloveds of my heart, how could you make sorrow lawful

    and forbid my sleep from alighting upon my lashes?

  13. صبوتُ لكم حبّاً وَإِنّي لمؤمن

    فَيا عجباً منّي أَنا المؤمن الصابي

    I yearned for you in love, though I am a believer—

    what a marvel that I am the believer, yet the Sabaean!

  14. وَلَو أَنَّني أُوتيت رشدي فيكمُ

    لَكانَ اِتّباعي لِلعَواذِل أَولى بي

    Had I been granted right guidance concerning you,

    following the reproachers would have become me better.

  15. بدين الوَفا لا أَبعد اللَه عهده

    عِدوا بعد هَذا العتب قَلبي بإعتابِ

    By the faith of fidelity—may God never banish its age—

    after this reproach, promise my heart reconciliation.

  16. سقِمتُ لقرب العاذلين وَجهلهم

    فَلا طرفُ إِبلال وَلا قلبُ إِلبابِ

    I have sickened from the reproachers’ nearness and their ignorance:

    no glimpse of recovery, no heart’s return to reason.

  17. تَطابق عِندي الحزنُ لمّا هجرتمُ

    بقرب لأعداء وَبعد لأحبابِ

    Grief was made complete for me when you abandoned me:

    enemies brought near, and loved ones held afar.

  18. وممّا شجاني أَنَّني يَومَ بينِهم

    وهبت رقادي وَالصَباح لنهّابِ

    Among the things that grieved me, on the day they parted,

    was that I surrendered my sleep and the morning to a plunderer.

  19. فطِر في الدُجى يا طَرفُ أَو قع فَلَن تَرى

    صَباحاً وَطِرفُ الليل أسوده كابي

    Fly through the darkness, O eye, or alight—you shall not see

    a dawn, while the edge of night, its blackness, lowers gloomily.

  20. ولمّا تَوَلَّوا سِرتُ أَتبعُ إِثرهم

    وَأَدمع عَيني عنهم كنّ حجّابي

    When they departed, I went following their traces,

    while the tears of my eyes became a veil between us.

  21. أُسارِقُهم بِاللَحظ مِن حذر العدى

    وَما كنت فيهم قبل هَذا بمرتابِ

    I stole glances at them, wary of the enemies,

    though before this I had never doubted them.

  22. وأَقرع سنّي إِذ تَوَلّوا نَدامَةً

    وَسيفُ اِصطِباري بَعدَ أَن رَحَلوا نابي

    I gnash my teeth in regret because they departed,

    and the sword of my endurance, after they left, has lost its edge.

  23. فَليت الَّذي يَهوى فراق أَحبّتي

    فدىً لِلَّذي يَهوى اِجتِماعي بأَحبابي

    Would that whoever desires my loved ones’ separation

    were a ransom for whoever desires my reunion with them.