1. دمشقُ عُدْتُ بِلا حُزني ولا فرحي

    يقودني شبحٌ مُضْنى إلى شبحِ

    Damascus, I have returned without my sorrow or my joy.

    A worn-out ghost leads me to a ghost.

  2. ضيعتُ مِنكِ طريقا كنتُ أعرِفُهُ

    سكرانَ مُغَمَضًّةً عيني من الطَفَحِ

    I lost a path of yours that I used to know,

    drunk, my eye shut from excess.

  3. أصابحُ الليلَ مصلوباً على جسدٍ

    لم أدْرِ أيَّ خفايا حُسْنِهِ قَدَحي

    I greet the night at dawn, crucified upon a body,

    I did not know which secret of its beauty was my cup.

  4. أََسَى حَريرٍ شِآمِيٍّ يداعِبُهُ

    إبريقُ خمرٍ عراقيٍّ شجٍ نَضِحِ

    The sorrow of Syrian silk is caressed

    by a pitcher of Iraqi wine, mournful and dripping.

  5. دفعتُ روحي على روحي فَباعدني

    نَهْدانِ عن جَنةٍ في موسمٍ لَقِِحِ

    I pressed my soul against my soul, and was kept away

    by two breasts—from a paradise in a fertile season.

  6. أُذْكِي فضائحَهُ لثما فيطردني

    شداً اليهِ غريرٌ غيرَ مُفْتَضَحِ

    I kindle its scandals with kisses, and it drives me away,

    by drawing me toward it—a guileless one, unexposed.

  7. تَسْتَقْرِئُ الغيبَ كفي في تَحَسُسِهِ

    كُرَيْزَةً فوقَ ماءٍ رَيِّقٍ مَرِحِ

    My palm divines the unseen as it feels it,

    a little cherry above clear, playful water.

  8. يا لانحدارٍ بطيءٍ أخمصٍ رَخِصٍ

    ولارتفاعٍ سريعٍ طافحٍ طَمِحِ

    Oh, what a slow, concave, supple descent,

    and what a swift, overflowing, soaring ascent!

  9. ماذا لقيتُ من الدنيا  وأعجبهُ؟

    نهدُ عليَّ ونهدٌ كانَ في سَرَحِ

    What have I encountered in the world? And most wondrous of all:

    One breast upon me, and another that was out grazing.

  10. هذا يطاعِنُني حتى أموتَ لهُ

    وذاكُ يمسحُ خدي بالهوى السَمِحِ

    This one jousts with me until I die for it,

    and that one strokes my cheek with gracious love.

  11. كأنَ زهرةَ لوزٍ في تفتحها

    تَمِجُ في قبضتي بالعنبرِ النَفِحِ

    As though an almond blossom, as it opens,

    were spitting fragrant ambergris into my grasp.

  12. دِمَشقُ عدتُ وقلبي كُلُهُ قُرَحٌ

    وأينَ كانَ غريبٌ غيرَ ذي قُرَحِ ؟

    Damascus, I have returned, and my heart is all wounds.

    And where was there ever a stranger without wounds?

  13. ضاعَ الطريقُ وكان الثلجُ يغمرني

    والروحُ مقفرةٌ والليلُ في رَشَحِ

    The road was lost, and the snow was engulfing me,

    and the soul was desolate, and the night was sweating.

  14. هذي الحقيبةُ عادت وحدَها وطني

    ورحلةُ العمر عادت وحدَها قَدَحِي

    This suitcase alone has become my homeland,

    and life's journey alone has become my cup.

  15. أصابحُ الليلَ مصلوبا على أملٍ

    أن لا أموتَ غريبا مِيْتَةَ الشَبَحِ

    I greet the night at dawn, crucified upon a hope:

    that I may not die a stranger, dying a ghost's death.

  16. يا جنةً مرَ فيها الليلُ  ذات ضحىْ

    لعلَ فيها نواسِيَّا على قَدَحي

    O paradise through which the night passed one midmorning,

    perhaps one like Abu Nuwas is there, over my cup.

  17. فحارَ زيتونها ما بينَ خُضْرَتِهِ

    و خُضْرَةِ الليلِ و الكاساتِ والمِلَحِ

    So its olives grew bewildered between their greenness

    and the greenness of the night, and the glasses, and the witticisms.

  18. لَقد سَكِرْتُ من الدنيا ويوقظني

    ما كانَ من عِنَبٍ فيها ومِنْ بَلَحِ

    I have indeed grown drunk on the world, and I am awakened

    by whatever grapes and dates it held.

  19. تَهِِرُ خلفي كلابُ الليلُ ناهشةً

    أطرافَ ثوبي على عَظْمٍ من المِنَحِ

    The dogs of the night growl behind me, gnawing

    the edges of my robe for a bone of bounty.

  20. ضَحِكْتُ مِنْها ومِني فهيَ يقتلها

    سُعارها وأنا يغتالني فرَحِي

    I laughed at them and at myself, for they are killed

    by their rabies, while my joy assassinates me.