1. لئِن كنتِ من عيني نُقِلْتِ إِلى قلْبي

    فقد صارَ أَقْصَى البُعْدِ في أَقْرَب القُرْبِ

    If indeed you have been moved from my eye into my heart,

    then the farthest distance now lies within the closest nearness.

  2. وإِن كان هذا الصدُّ منكِ تَعتُّباً

    عليَّ فعِنْدِي أَلفُ عَتْبٍ من العتْبِ

    And if this shunning of yours is a reproach

    against me, I have a thousand reproaches of my own.

  3. وإِن كنتِ في شُغْلٍ فهلْ هُوَ شَاغِلٌ

    كشُغْلكِ قِدْماً بالدَّلاَلِ وبالعُجْبِ

    And if you are busy, does anything occupy you

    as coyness and self-admiration occupied you of old?

  4. وإِنْ كنتِ غضْبى من فِرَاقِي فإِنَّهُ

    ولا تَظْلمِي ذنبُ المَنِيَّة لا ذنْبي

    And if you are angry at parting from me, it is—

    do not be unjust—death's fault, not mine.

  5. دَعِي ذا وقُولِي كيْف خُلِّيتِ للرَّدى

    وأُخْرِجْتِ منْ خلفِ المقاصيرِ والحُجْبِ

    Leave that; tell me how you were abandoned to death

    and brought out from behind secluded chambers and curtains.

  6. وكيف اعتدَى ذاك الحمَامُ على الحِمى

    وكيف سَبَاكِ الموت جَهْراً بِلاَ حَرْبِ

    How did that doom trespass upon your sanctuary?

    How did death carry you captive openly, without a war?

  7. وكيف أَراقُوا ماءَ وجهِك في الثَّرَى

    فأَفْناهُ دُونِي شرْبُه مِنْهُ لا شُرْبي

    How did they pour the water of your face into the dust,

    so its drinking, not mine, drained it away, excluding me?

  8. وكيف ابتَلَوْا تلك المَعَاطف بالبِلَى

    كمَا امْتهنُوا تلك الترائبَ بالتُّرْبِ

    How did they afflict those graceful curves with decay,

    as they dishonored those collarbones with dust?

  9. بِرغْمِيَ قَدْ أُنْزِلْتِ أَضْيَق مَنْزلٍ

    فَلا مَرحباً بالمنزِلِ الواسعِ الرَّحْب

    Against my will, you were lowered into the narrowest dwelling;

    so no welcome to the wide and spacious dwelling!

  10. ومَا وجْهُكِ الوَجْهُ الذي غابَ في الثَّرَى

    ولكنَّهُ البَدْرُ الَّذِي غابَ في الغَرْبِ

    Your face is not a face that vanished in the dust,

    but the full moon that set in the west.

  11. فلا تَسْأَلِي عنْ حالِ دَارِكِ وانظُرِي

    إِلَى الشِّعبِ أَخلت ربْعَه ظبيةُ الشِّعْبِ

    Do not ask about the state of your home; look

    at the ravine: its gazelle has left its dwelling empty.

  12. بكتْ دُورُكِ اللاَّتِي عليكِ تَسَلَّيَتْ

    مِن الحُزْنِ لمَّا عُوجِلتْ منكِ بالسَّلْبِ

    Your houses wept, those that had found comfort in you,

    from grief, when they were suddenly robbed of you.

  13. وربْعُكِ أَضْحَى خاشِعاً مُتصَدِّعاً

    وسَاخ إِلى أَنْ صَارَ أَعْلاَهَ كالجُبِّ

    Your dwelling became humbled and cracked,

    and sank until its highest part was like a pit.

  14. ويَنْدُبُ حَتى يسمَع الخلقُ نَدْبَهُ

    مُصَلاَّكِ بالتسبيحِ لا العُودُ بالضَّرْبِ

    It laments until all creation hears its lament:

    your prayer-place chanting praise, not a lute being struck.

  15. وحَاشاكِ من لَغْوٍ وحَاشاكِ من رَدِّ

    وحَاشاكِ من لَهْوٍ وحاشاكِ منْ لعْبِ

    Far were you from idle talk, far from retorts;

    far from frivolity, far from play.

  16. وما بَرحَتْ في الحُسْنِ قِنْدِيلَ قِبْلةٍ

    وفي الطُّهْرِ لا رَيْحَانة الشَّرْبِ والشُّرْبِ

    She remained, in beauty, a lamp at the qibla,

    and in purity—not a fragrant blossom for revelers and drinking.

  17. إِذا ظَهرَتْ كان الحِجَابُ من الحِجىَ

    وإِن سفرت نابَ الحَيَاءُ عن النَّقْبِ

    When she appeared, wisdom itself was her veil;

    if she unveiled, modesty took the place of face-veils.

  18. ومِنْ طبعِها ذاك العفافُ وكسْبُها

    وما أَحسَن الطبعَ الذِي زِيدَ بالكسْبِ

    That chastity sprang from her nature and her cultivation;

    how beautiful a nature enhanced by cultivation!

  19. وقد طُوِيَتْ من قبلِ أَنْ يَنْطوِي الصِّبا

    وقدْ بَلِيَتْ من قبلِ أَثْوَابِها القُشْبِ

    She was folded away before youth was folded away,

    and decayed before her fresh new garments did.

  20. وأَمّا حَديثي أَنَّني الثَّاكلُ الَّذي

    أَقامَ زَمَاناً فيكِ يُعْرَفُ بالصَّبِ

    As for my story, I am the bereaved one who

    was long known, for your sake, as the lovesick lover.

  21. ودَافعْتُ عنكِ الموت بالطِّبِّ جَاهِداً

    وذا غَلطٌ هل يُدفع الموتُ بالطِّبِّ

    I strove to fend death off from you with medicine;

    that was an error: can medicine repel death?

  22. وحُمَّاكِ غَاثت في حِمَاكِ وأَدخلتْ

    عَليكِ الضَّنى حَتى أَبَاحَتْه للنَّهب

    Your fever lent aid within your sanctuary and brought

    wasting sickness upon you, until it laid it open to plunder.

  23. وزارَتْكِ غِبّاً كيْ يُحبَّ مَزارُها

    ويا جَهْلها بالموتِ في ذلكَ الغِبِّ

    It visited you every other day so its visits might be loved;

    how little it knew of death within that interval!

  24. وما أَنا مِمَّنْ شَقَّ ثوْباً وإِنَّه

    لَفِعْل خَلِيٍّ عَن تَفَعُّلِه يُنْبي

    I am not one to rend a garment; that

    is a carefree man's act, betraying his pretense.

  25. نَعَم كبِدِي والقلبُ منِّيَ شُقِّقَا

    عليكِ أَسىً هَذا شِغافِي وذا خَلْبي

    Yes, my liver and my heart were torn apart

    in grief for you: this is my heart's membrane, that my liver's.

  26. ورُمْتُ نُهوضاً إِذ عَثرتُ فَلمْ أَقُمْ

    عَلَى قَدَمِي لكنْ سقطتُ عَلَى جَنْبي

    I tried to rise when I stumbled, but did not stand

    on my feet; instead, I fell upon my side.

  27. وَرُزؤُكِ أَشْهى من سُهادِي لناظِرِي

    ورُوحي إِلى جسْمِي وأَمْنى إِلى قَلْبي

    Your loss is dearer to my eye than my sleeplessness,

    and to my body than my soul, and more desired by my heart.

  28. فيا مُهجَتي ذُبي ويا دَمْعَتي اسكُبي

    ويا كبِدِي شيبي ويَا لوْعَتي شُبي

    O my life-blood, melt; O my tear, pour down;

    O my liver, turn gray; O my burning grief, blaze!

  29. ولمْ أُبقِ مني العَين إِلاَّ لأَنها

    تُريحُ ثرَاكِ الحُرَّ مِن مِنَّةِ السُّحْب

    Of all myself, I spared my eye only because it

    frees your noble dust from indebtedness to the clouds.

  30. بكى ناظِري بالنُّورِ من بَعْد دَمْعِهِ

    عليكِ وهذا حَسْبُه فيكِ لا حَسْبي

    My eye shed its very light after its tears

    for you; that is enough for it, but not enough for me.

  31. وواللهِ ما وفَّاكِ حقَّكِ مَدْمَعِي

    عَلى أَنَّهُ قد أَنبَت الأَرض بالعُشْبِ

    By God, my weeping eye has not paid you your due,

    though it has made the earth sprout grass.

  32. أَقامتْ عليكِ القفرُ مأْتم حُزْنِها

    فقُومِي انظُرِي وسْط الفَلاَ مأْتَم السِّرْب

    The wilderness held its gathering of grief for you;

    rise and see the herd's mourning assembly amid the desert.

  33. ومذْ مُتِّ صَارتْ سَبعةُ الشُّهب سِتَّةً

    ومَاذَا الدُّجَى إِلاَّ الحِدادُ عَلَى الشُّهْب

    Since you died, the seven bright stars have become six;

    what is darkness but mourning for the stars?

  34. أَحِنُّ إِليهَا كُلَّ يومٍ ولَيْلَةٍ

    حنينَ الحَنَايَا لاَ الرءوم إِلى السَّقْب

    I yearn for her every day and night,

    with the keening of bows, not a mother camel's for her calf.

  35. وآنَسَني مِنْ بُعْدِها طُولُ وَحشَتي

    وضاجَعني في مَضْجَعي بَعْدَها كَرْبي

    Long loneliness kept me company in her absence,

    and after her, anguish lay beside me in my bed.

  36. وأَيسرُ ما بي أَنَّني مِنْ تَدَلُّهِي

    أَرُوحُ بِلاَ ذِهْن وأَغْدُو بلاَ لٌبِّ

    The least of my afflictions is that, in my bewilderment,

    I go at evening without thought, at morning without reason.

  37. أَغيبُ ذُهُولاً ثم أَحْضُرُ فِكْرةً

    وأَعْلَمُ مَنْ بي ثُم أَسأَلُهم مَنْ بي

    I vanish in distraction, then return in thought;

    I know who is with me, then ask them who is with me.

  38. عَدِمْتُ الصِّبا من قَبْلها وعَدِمْتُها

    وأَوجَعُ مِنْ فَقْدِ الصِبا فقدُ مَنْ يُصْبي

    I lost youth before her, and then I lost her;

    more painful than losing youth is losing one who kindles youthful love.

  39. وأَشبَه حالي حالَها فَتَرى الرَّدَى

    قَضَى نَحْبَها فيمَا أَرَى أَو قَضَى نحْبي

    My state has come to resemble hers: do you think death

    has ended her life, as I see it, or ended mine?

  40. عَدَتْ هذهِ الدنيا عَليَّ وأَسْرَفَتْ

    بفجْعٍ عَلَى ثَلْمِي وندْبٍ عَلَى ندْبِ

    This world has assailed me and gone too far,

    heaping bereavement upon my wounds, scar upon scar.

  41. أَغَارَتْ عَلَى سَرْحِي أَعانَتْ عَلَى دَمِي

    أَصرَّتْ عَلَى ثَلْمِي أَقَامَت عَلَى ثَلْبي

    It raided my grazing herd and abetted my bloodshed;

    it persisted in wounding me, continued to revile me.

  42. وساعَاتُها الغِربانُ إِذْ كُلُّ ساعةٍ

    تُبَشِّرُني بالنَعْي فيهَا وبالنَّعْبِ

    Its hours are ravens, for every hour

    brings me tidings of death and the raven's croak.

  43. إِلى كَمْ إلَى كَمْ نكبةٍ بعدَ نَكْبَةٍ

    تُزَعْزِعُ رُكني مِن زَعَازِعِها النُّكْب

    How long, how long—calamity after calamity—

    will their adverse tempests shake my pillar?

  44. فمالي وللدُّنيا ومالي ولِلعِدَى

    ومالي ولِلعَدْوى ومالي وللخَطْب

    What have I to do with the world, and what with enemies?

    What have I to do with contagion, and what with calamity?

  45. لَقَدْ قَلَّ قلبُ المرءِ وانحَطَّ سُمْكُه

    ولو أَنَّهُ بيْنَ السِّمَاكيْن والقَلْب

    A man's heart has grown small indeed, its height brought low,

    even were it between the two Simak stars and the Heart.

  46. وقد قيلَ إِنَّ الشُّهْبَ ينفُذُ حكمُهَا

    عَلَى ذَا الوَرَى بالخفضِ منْهَا وبالنَّصْب

    It is said that the stars' decrees take effect

    upon humankind, bringing ease or hardship.

  47. وإِنْ صَحَّ هذا أَنَّ ثوراً وعقْرَبَا

    أَلحا عَلى ذا الجِنْسِ بالنَّطْح واللَّسبِ

    If this is true, then the Bull and the Scorpion

    have harried this race with butting and stinging.

  48. أَيا تُرْبُ ما أَنصفْت نُضْرة غُصنِها

    أَهذا صَنِيعُ التُّربِ بالغُصن الرَّطْب

    O dust, you have wronged the freshness of her branch;

    is this how dust treats a tender branch?

  49. ويا عَاطِلاً مِنْ عِقدِها إِنَّ أَدْمُعِي

    لأَكبَرُ ممَّا فِيهِ مِنْ ذلِك الحَبِّ

    O you now bare of her necklace, my tears

    are surely larger than the beads it holds.

  50. خُذِيها وإِنْ لم تنتظمْ فلرُبَّما

    تحيَّلْت في تثْقِيبِها لك بالهُدْب

    Take them; if they will not string together, perhaps

    I can contrive to pierce them for you with my lashes.

  51. هجرتُ مَعانِيكِ التي كنتِ لبَّها

    وغيري يرضى بالقُشُور عَن اللُّبِّ

    I have forsaken all that evoked you, whose very core you were;

    others are content with husks instead of the kernel.

  52. وواصلتُ قبراً أَنتِ فيه أَضُمُّهُ

    لصدرِي بل أُهدِي الهناءَ إِلى النَّصْب

    I have kept company with a grave containing you, embracing it

    to my breast—rather, I bring ease to suffering.

  53. وأُهْدى إِليكِ الذكرَ مثلِي وإِنَّهُ

    سلاميَ لا أُهْدِي السلام مَعَ الرَّكْب

    And one such as I has offered you remembrance; it

    is my greeting: I do not send greetings with the caravan.

  54. قد اعْتاض يا بُؤْسَ الذي اعتاضه فمِي

    بنظْم المرَاثي عَنْ مُقبَّلِكِ العَذْب

    My mouth has taken in exchange—how wretched its exchange!—

    the composing of elegies in place of your sweet lips.

  55. قِفَا نَبْكِ مِنْ ذكرى حبيبي وقبره

    وقلْ للَّتي في القبْر حَلَّتْ أَلا هُبِّي

    Halt, you two; let us weep for the memory of my beloved and his grave,

    and say to her who dwells in the grave: 'Awake!'

  56. ويا ناصِحي ما أَنت باللَّوم ناصِحِي

    ودعْ صُحْبَتي ما أَنت في الحُزْن من صَحْبي

    O my adviser, your blame is no counsel to me;

    leave my company: you are no companion in my grief.

  57. ولست رفيقي في طريق إِنَّني

    سأَرْكبُ منها كُلَّ مُسْتوعَر صَعْب

    Nor are you my companion on a path, for I

    shall ride through every rugged, difficult stretch of it.

  58. ولا تنه شعري عن رثاها فإِنَّهُ

    من الفرضِ عِندِي ندبُها لا مِن النَّدْب

    Do not forbid my verse to lament her, for

    to me, mourning her is obligatory, not merely recommended.

  59. وقد بَليتْ تحت الثَّرى وتغيَّرْت

    وَوجدِي بها وحْدِي وحُبِّي لها حبِّي

    She has decayed beneath the soil and changed,

    while my grief for her is mine alone, and my love for her remains my love.