ما الشَوقُ مُقتَنِعاً مِنّي بِذا الكَمَدِ

ما الشَوقُ مُقتَنِعاً مِنّي بِذا الكَمَدِ

حَتّى أَكونَ بِلا قَلبٍ وَلا كَبِدِ

حَتّى أَكونَ بِلا قَلبٍ وَلا كَبِدِ

Longing is not content with this anguish of mine,

My longing is not satisfied with me in this condition,

Longing is not satisfied with this anguish I sustain,

Until I am without heart or liver.

Until I am without a heart or liver,

Until I am left without a heart, without a vital vein.

وَلا الدِيارُ الَّتي كانَ الحَبيبُ بِها

وَلا الدِيارُ الَّتي كانَ الحَبيبُ بِها

تَشكو إِلَيَّ وَلا أَشكو إِلى أَحَدِ

تَشكو إِلَيَّ وَلا أَشكو إِلى أَحَدِ

Nor do the dwellings where the beloved once lived

Nor do the abodes where the beloved once was

Nor do the ruins, wherein the beloved used to dwell,

Complain to me, nor do I complain to anyone.

Complain to me, nor do I complain to anyone.

Complain to me, while I complain my pain to no one.

مازالَ كُلُّ هَزيمِ الوَدقِ يُنحِلُها

مازالَ كُلُّ هَزيمِ الوَدقِ يُنحِلُها

وَالسُقمُ يُنحِلُني حَتّى حَكَت جَسَدي

وَالسُقمُ يُنحِلُني حَتّى حَكَت جَسَدي

Every roaring downpour has kept wasting them away,

Every evening star that rises continues to unsettle it,

The pouring rain continues to wear the stones away,

And sickness wastes me away, until they resemble my body.

And sickness unsettles me, until my body is etched.

While sickness wears me down until they mimic my decay.

وَكُلَّما فاضَ دَمعي غاضَ مُصطَبَري

وَكُلَّما فاضَ دَمعي غاضَ مُصطَبَري

كَأَنَّ ما سالَ مِن جَفنَيَّ مِن جَلَدي

كَأَنَّ ما سالَ مِن جَفنَيَّ مِن جَلَدي

And whenever my tears overflow, my patience ebbs,

And whenever my tear flows, my patience ebbs,

Whenever my tears flood forth, my patience ebbs low,

As though what flows from my eyelids comes from my fortitude.

As if what flows from my eyelids is from my skin.

As if my very endurance streamed from my eyelids' flow.

فَأَينَ مِن زَفَراتي مَن كَلِفتُ بِهِ

فَأَينَ مِن زَفَراتي مَن كَلِفتُ بِهِ

وَأَينَ مِنكَ اِبنَ يَحيى صَولَةُ الأَسَدِ

وَأَينَ مِنكَ اِبنَ يَحيى صَولَةُ الأَسَدِ

How far from my sighs is the one I adore!

So where are my sighs for the one I was burdened with,

So where, amidst my burning sighs, is the one I adore?

And what is a lion's charge beside you, Ibn Yahya?

And where are you, O Ibn Yahya, boldness of the lion?

And where, O Ibn Yahya, is the lion's assault compared to yours?

لَمّا وَزَنتُ بِكَ الدُنيا فَمِلتَ بِها

لَمّا وَزَنتُ بِكَ الدُنيا فَمِلتَ بِها

وَبِالوَرى قَلَّ عِندي كَثرَةُ العَدَدِ

وَبِالوَرى قَلَّ عِندي كَثرَةُ العَدَدِ

When I weighed the world against you, you outweighed it,

When I weighed you against the world, I was fed up with it,

When I weighed the world against you, you tipped the scale,

And against all mankind, their multitude seemed small to me.

And in my view, a multitude of people meant little.

And beside you, the multitudes of mankind seemed to fail.

ما دارَ في خَلَدِ الأَيّامِ لي فَرَحٌ

ما دارَ في خَلَدِ الأَيّامِ لي فَرَحٌ

أَبا عُبادَةَ حَتّى دُرتَ في خَلَدي

أَبا عُبادَةَ حَتّى دُرتَ في خَلَدي

No joy for me ever crossed the mind of the days,

No joy has lasted in the eternity of days for me,

It never crossed the mind of Time to grant me delight,

Abu Ubada, until you crossed my mind.

Abu Ubadah, until you remained in my eternity.

O Abu Ubadah, until you crossed into my sight.

مَلكٌ إِذا اِمتَلَأَت مالاً خَزائِنُهُ

مَلكٌ إِذا اِمتَلَأَت مالاً خَزائِنُهُ

أَذاقَها طَعمَ ثُكلِ الأُمِّ لِلوَلَدِ

أَذاقَها طَعمَ ثُكلِ الأُمِّ لِلوَلَدِ

A king who, whenever his treasuries fill with wealth,

A king, when his treasuries are filled with wealth,

A king who, when his treasuries are filled with store,

Makes them taste a mother's grief at losing her child.

Makes them taste the flavor of a mother's compassion for her son.

Makes them taste the grief of a mother whose child is no more.

ماضي الجَنانِ يُريهِ الحَزمُ قَبلَ غَدٍ

ماضي الجَنانِ يُريهِ الحَزمُ قَبلَ غَدٍ

بِقَلبِهِ ما تَرى عَيناهُ بَعدَ غَدِ

بِقَلبِهِ ما تَرى عَيناهُ بَعدَ غَدِ

His heart is resolute; prudence shows him before tomorrow,

The wise man sees the past of his soul before tomorrow

Resolute of heart, his prudence reveals before the dawn,

Through his heart, what his eyes will see after tomorrow.

With his heart - not with what his eyes see after tomorrow.

Within his soul, what his eyes will see when the veil is drawn.

ماذا البَهاءُ وَلا ذا النورُ مِن بَشَرٍ

ماذا البَهاءُ وَلا ذا النورُ مِن بَشَرٍ

وَلا السَماحُ الَّذي فيهِ سَماحُ يَدِ

وَلا السَماحُ الَّذي فيهِ سَماحُ يَدِ

Neither this splendor nor this radiance comes from a mortal,

What is this brilliance, and what is this light from a human,

This splendor and this light are not of human clay,

Nor is the generosity within him the generosity of a hand.

And what is this generosity in which is the generosity of hand?

Nor is this generosity mere giving in the common way.

أَيُّ الأَكُفِّ تُباري الغَيثَ ما اِتَّفَقا

أَيُّ الأَكُفِّ تُباري الغَيثَ ما اِتَّفَقا

حَتّى إِذا اِفتَرَقا عادَت وَلَم يَعُدِ

حَتّى إِذا اِفتَرَقا عادَت وَلَم يَعُدِ

Which hand rivals the rain while the two meet,

Which palms can compete with the rain as they happened to meet,

What palm can rival the raincloud while they flow as one?

Then, when they part, returns while the rain does not?

Until when they parted, it did not return?

Yet when they part, the hand returns; the rain is done.

قَد كُنتُ أَحسَبُ أَنَّ المَجدَ مِن مُضَرٍ

قَد كُنتُ أَحسَبُ أَنَّ المَجدَ مِن مُضَرٍ

حَتّى تَبَحتَرَ فَهوَ اليَومَ مِن أَدَدِ

حَتّى تَبَحتَرَ فَهوَ اليَومَ مِن أَدَدِ

I once thought that glory descended from Mudar,

I used to think glory was from Mudar

I used to deem that Glory belonged to Mudar's line,

Until it became Buhturi; today it descends from Adad.

Until it shone, and today it is from Aded.

Until it joined the Buhtur clan, and now springs from Adad's vine.

قَومٌ إِذا أَمطَرَت مَوتاً سُيوفُهُمُ

قَومٌ إِذا أَمطَرَت مَوتاً سُيوفُهُمُ

حَسِبتَها سُحُباً جادَت عَلى بَلَدِ

حَسِبتَها سُحُباً جادَت عَلى بَلَدِ

A people whose swords, whenever they rain death,

A people whose swords rain death when they unsheathe them -

A people whose swords, when raining death upon the field,

You would take for clouds pouring rain upon a land.

You would think they are clouds pouring down on a land.

You would mistake for clouds that bountiful harvest yield.

لَم أُجرِ غايَةَ فِكري مِنكَ في صِفَةٍ

لَم أُجرِ غايَةَ فِكري مِنكَ في صِفَةٍ

إِلّا وَجَدتُ مَداها غايَةَ الأَبَدِ

إِلّا وَجَدتُ مَداها غايَةَ الأَبَدِ

Never have I let my thought run its full course through an attribute of yours,

I have not set the extent of my thought about you in any description

I never raced the limits of my thought to describe your state,

Without finding its reach to be the limit of eternity.

Except I found its range the extent of eternity.

But found its finish line to be Eternity's own gate.