I came with many knots in my heart,
like the magician's rope.

You undid them all at once.
I see now the splendor of the student
and that of the teacher's art.

Love and this body sit inside your presence,
one demolished, the other drunk.

We smile. We weep, tree limbs
turning sere, then light green.

ألف الدهر بعادي ... جرح البعد فؤادي

فقد النوم وسادي ... وسعاداتي نوم

فأرى الشمل تفرق ... وأرى الستر تمزق

وأرى السقف تخرق ... وأرى الموج تلاطم

وأرى البدر تكور ... وأرى النجم تكدر

وأرى البحر تسجر ... وأرى الهلك تفاقم

فقد أهداني ربي ... وأتى الجد بحبي

نهض الحب لطبي ... وتدارك وتراحم

نزل العشق بداري ... معه كأس عقاري

هو معراج سواري ... وعلى السطح كسلم

بك أحيى وأموت ... بك أمسك وأفوت

بك في الدهر سكوت ... بك قلبي يتكلم

The Intellectual

The intellectual is always showing off;
the lover is always getting lost.
The intellectual runs away, afraid of drowning;
the whole business of love is to drown in the sea.
Intellectuals plan their repose;
lovers are ashamed to rest.
The lover is always alone,
even surrounded with people;
like water and oil, he remains apart.
The man who goes to the trouble
of giving advice to a lover
get’s nothing. He’s mocked by passion.
Love is like musk. It attracts attention.
Love is a tree, and lovers are its shade.