جَرِّر عَلى القَمَرَين ذَيلَ التيهِ

جَرِّر عَلى القَمَرَين ذَيلَ التيهِ

لَم يَأتِ حُسنُهُما بِما تَأتيهِ

لَم يَأتِ حُسنُهُما بِما تَأتيهِ

Trail the hem of your pride over the sun and moon;

Drag the tail of misguidance over the two moons

their beauty has never achieved what you achieve.

Their beauty does not come close to yours

ما احمَرّ وَجهُالشَمسِ إِلّا خَجلَةً

ما احمَرّ وَجهُالشَمسِ إِلّا خَجلَةً

غِذ قُورِنت لِسَناكَ في التَشبيهِ

غِذ قُورِنت لِسَناكَ في التَشبيهِ

The sun's face reddened only out of shame

The face of the sun only blushed out of shyness

when it was compared with your radiance in a simile.

When compared to your teeth in simile

وَالبَدرُ لَمّا ما ثَلُوكَ بِتّمِّهِ

وَالبَدرُ لَمّا ما ثَلُوكَ بِتّمِّهِ

أَوما لِنَقصِ كَمالِهِ يُبديهِ

أَوما لِنَقصِ كَمالِهِ يُبديهِ

And the full moon, when they compared you with it at its fullest,

And the full moon, when it did not equal you in its fullness

pointed to the shortfall in its perfection, revealing it.

Or was it revealing its imperfectness, lacking your perfection?

بَهَرَت مَحاسِنُكَ المَحاسِنَ كُلَّها

بَهَرَت مَحاسِنُكَ المَحاسِنَ كُلَّها

إِنّ السِراجَ سَنا الضُحى يُخفيهِ

إِنّ السِراجَ سَنا الضُحى يُخفيهِ

Your charms have outshone all other charms;

Your beauty dazzled all other beauties

indeed, the radiance of forenoon conceals the lamp.

Indeed, the lamp outshines the brightness of dawn that hides it

هَل كانَ سِرُّ الحُبِّ إِلّا مُضمَراً

هَل كانَ سِرُّ الحُبِّ إِلّا مُضمَراً

فَغَدَت صِفاتُك في الوَرى تُفشِيهِ

فَغَدَت صِفاتُك في الوَرى تُفشِيهِ

Was love's secret anything but concealed?

Was the secret of love anything but concealed

Then your qualities began revealing it among mankind.

Until your attributes spread it out in the world?

مَن لِلخَواطِرِ أَن تُحاوِلَ وَصفَ مَن

مَن لِلخَواطِرِ أَن تُحاوِلَ وَصفَ مَن

إِن عَنَّ حُورُ العَينِ لا تَحكِيهِ

إِن عَنَّ حُورُ العَينِ لا تَحكِيهِ

Who can help thoughts attempt to describe one

Who can describe one whom the houris of paradise cannot speak of

whom even wide-eyed houris, should they appear, cannot resemble?

A branch bent by the youthful breeze, not the morning breeze

غُصنٌ تَثَنّى بِالصِبا لا بِالصَبا

غُصنٌ تَثَنّى بِالصِبا لا بِالصَبا

يَجنِي عَلَيك هَوىً وَلا تَجنِيهِ

يَجنِي عَلَيك هَوىً وَلا تَجنِيهِ

A branch swaying with youth, not with the east wind,

Picking passion for you but not able to pick it

inflicting love upon you, yet you cannot pluck it.

He stood up blooming in the garden of beauties

قَد قامَ في رَوضِ المَحاسِنِ يانِعاً

قَد قامَ في رَوضِ المَحاسِنِ يانِعاً

فَنَعيمُ أَبصارِ البَصائِرِ فيهِ

فَنَعيمُ أَبصارِ البَصائِرِ فيهِ

He stands flourishing in the garden of beauty,

The hand of creation embroidered its gardens

and in him lies the bliss of the eyes of insight.

With what the gardener adorned the garden of cultivation

وَوَشَت يَدُ الإِبداعِ في وَجَناتِهِ

وَوَشَت يَدُ الإِبداعِ في وَجَناتِهِ

ما المُزنُ في رَوضِ الرُبى وَاشِيه

ما المُزنُ في رَوضِ الرُبى وَاشِيه

The hand of creation embroidered upon his cheeks

Its masterpieces surpassed all others

what rain-clouds embroider in the gardens of the hills.

If you saw it, you wouldn’t accept anything else as its equal

راقضت بَدائِعُهُ فَإِن أَبصَرتَهُ

راقضت بَدائِعُهُ فَإِن أَبصَرتَهُ

لَم تَرضَ في بَعضِ الرُبى بِشَبِيهِ

لَم تَرضَ في بَعضِ الرُبى بِشَبِيهِ

His marvels delight; if you behold him,

Its youth, perfect and refined

you will not be content with a likeness on any hill.

And the garden is proud of its sky that makes it dark

فَشَبابُهُ جَمُّ الغَضارة مُنعَمٌ

فَشَبابُهُ جَمُّ الغَضارة مُنعَمٌ

وَالرَوضُ غِبُّ سَمائِهِ يُمسِيهِ

وَالرَوضُ غِبُّ سَمائِهِ يُمسِيهِ

For his youth abounds in freshness and is blessed,

For God a blossoming rose in lily

while rain's aftermath brings evening upon the garden.

Modestly blushing to protect its shyness

لِلّهِ وَردٌ ناضِرٌ في سَوسَن

لِلّهِ وَردٌ ناضِرٌ في سَوسَن

غَضٌّ حَيا اِستِحيائِهِ يَحمِيهِ

غَضٌّ حَيا اِستِحيائِهِ يَحمِيهِ

How wondrous—a radiant rose within a lily,

Its glance narrates the magic of Harut

tender, guarded by the rain of his modesty.

And its beauty narrates that of Joseph

عَن سِحرِ هارُوتٍ يُحدِّثُ لَحظُهُ

عَن سِحرِ هارُوتٍ يُحدِّثُ لَحظُهُ

وَجَمالُهُ عَن يُوسُفٍ يَروِيه

وَجَمالُهُ عَن يُوسُفٍ يَروِيه

His glance tells of Harut's magic,

Beauty adorned it with every wonder

and his beauty tells of Joseph.

As if it only cared for whom you care for

خَلَعَ الجَمالُ عَلَيهِ كُلّ بِدِيعَةٍ

خَلَعَ الجَمالُ عَلَيهِ كُلّ بِدِيعَةٍ

فَكَأَنّه يُعنى بِمَن تَعنِيهِ

فَكَأَنّه يُعنى بِمَن تَعنِيهِ

Beauty clothed him in every marvel,

If anything in this world could revive the dead

as though it cares for the one you have in mind.

It would only be joining with you that would revive it

لَو كانَ يُحيي المَوتَ شَيءٌ في الدُنى

لَو كانَ يُحيي المَوتَ شَيءٌ في الدُنى

ما كانَ إِلّا وَصلُهُ يُحِييهِ

ما كانَ إِلّا وَصلُهُ يُحِييهِ

If anything in the worlds could bring death to life,

When beauty called me to rave about it

only union with him could revive it.

And removed the sleep of thought with awakening

لَمّا دَعاني الحسنُ أَن أَهفُو بِهِ

لَمّا دَعاني الحسنُ أَن أَهفُو بِهِ

وَأَزال نَومَ الفِكرِ بالتَنبِيهِ

وَأَزال نَومَ الفِكرِ بالتَنبِيهِ

When beauty called me to yearn for him,

I created marvels where the doubts of slanderers fail

and dispelled thought's sleep by awakening it,

Since I do not name it or give it a kunya

أَبدَعتُ أِين يَخيب ظَنّ عَواذِلي

أَبدَعتُ أِين يَخيب ظَنّ عَواذِلي

إِذ لا أُسمِّيهِ وَلا أَكنِيهِ

إِذ لا أُسمِّيهِ وَلا أَكنِيهِ

I devised a marvel where my reproachers' guesses fail,

I obscured the knowledge of the beloved with artfulness

for I neither name him nor give his byname.

And man really succeeds through artfulness

صَحَّفتُ مَعرفةً الحَبيب مُمَوِّهاً

صَحَّفتُ مَعرفةً الحَبيب مُمَوِّهاً

وَلَقَد يَفوزُ المرءُ بِالتَمويهِ

وَلَقَد يَفوزُ المرءُ بِالتَمويهِ

I changed the reading of the beloved's designation, disguising it;

Its cheeks softer than the breeze, a hint

and one may indeed succeed through disguise.

Rather like glass that shows you what is inside

خُدها أَرَقّ مِن النَسيم إِشارَة

خُدها أَرَقّ مِن النَسيم إِشارَة

بَل كَالزجَاجِ يُريكَ ما يَحوِيهِ

بَل كَالزجَاجِ يُريكَ ما يَحوِيهِ

Take it—a hint more delicate than the breeze;

So go, my ransom, in sequence from the last

rather, like glass, it shows you what it contains.

And if you hit the target, you will deafen it

فَاِقصُد فَدَيتُك ثامِناً مِن آخرٍ

فَاِقصُد فَدَيتُك ثامِناً مِن آخرٍ

فَإِذا رَميتَ صَميمَهُ تُصمِيهِ

فَإِذا رَميتَ صَميمَهُ تُصمِيهِ

So seek the eighth from the end—may I be your ransom—

From a poet whose secrets of their chest poured out

and when you shoot at its heart, you will strike it dead.

To you all, like flint when you strike it

مِن شاعِرٍ صَدَرَت خَبايا صَدرِهِ

مِن شاعِرٍ صَدَرَت خَبايا صَدرِهِ

لَكُمُ كَمِثل الزندِ إِذ تُورِيهِ

لَكُمُ كَمِثل الزندِ إِذ تُورِيهِ

From a poet whose breast's hidden secrets have come forth

O you whom its love came to me a comfort

for you, like a fire-stick when you draw fire from it.

To passion whether it distances him or draws him near

يا ذا الَّذي جاني هَواهُ تَنَعُّمٌ

يا ذا الَّذي جاني هَواهُ تَنَعُّمٌ

لِلصَبِّ إِذ يُقصِيهِ أَو يُدنِيهِ

لِلصَبِّ إِذ يُقصِيهِ أَو يُدنِيهِ

O you whose wounding love is delight

Turn back your glance and examine the people of love

for the lovelorn, whether he casts him away or draws him near:

Not every eye roams around in tumult equally

أَعِدِ التِفاتَكَ وَاختبِر أَهلَ الهَوى

أَعِدِ التِفاتَكَ وَاختبِر أَهلَ الهَوى

ما كُلّ طِرفٍ في الوَغى تُجرِيهِ

ما كُلّ طِرفٍ في الوَغى تُجرِيهِ

Turn your gaze back, and test the people of love;

you do not send every steed galloping into battle.