The glory of yesterday... will tomorrow forget it?!
Separation does not forget what my hand has given.
Would that I was stars in the sky,
My country would boast of my radiance.
The star of poetry, if you lose it,
You may find it in the embrace of the North Star.
Would that I was soft silk,
So that I might spite the arrogance of the file.
In the hills of Lebanon, I tamed the horizon,
After my snows traced my source.
And in the shade of the cedars, I embraced bliss,
And left the rock to build. My seat
Goodness hangs from our cloak
And the birds flock to the most splendid temple
Wisdoms I have lived through that never end
Ah, how rich is the tongue of the father:
If you live your life without enjoying it
It will curse your meeting for all eternity
It is said that in fire there is perpetual melting
Would that this were in the cold frost
Every poem that does not understand its era
Becomes an ember in the corners of the hearth
A letter may shine in a prison cell
That becomes a palace for an eternal thought
He who prays in fear of his Lord
Is not more pious than a loving atheist
The gifts of love are a joyous victory
What humiliation is there in the heart of the hater?
My envious one... will never attain glory
The most wretched of ages is the age of the envious
It will not be said that the cat has become a lion
Even if it struts in the skin of a lion
How many a noble one I thought an example
Was a wolf behind a locked door
If you strip a woman's body
You will not see in it the beauty of the body
My homeland...
I will not complain of the long suffering
Despite my distance, I am still in my resting place
I have carried the earth in my poetry
And in the pupil of my eye The weary stranger
My exile... a fire of painful longing
And my return... the whisper of the sweetest rendezvous
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