خمرية ابن الفارض
Ibnul
Fāridh's Mystical Wine
شَـرِبْنَا عـلى ذكْـرِ الحبيبِ
مُدامَةً سـكِرْنَا بها من قبل أن يُخلق الكَرْمُ
I
quaffed a sip of wine to the remembrance of my beloved that rendered me
inebriated even before vineyards were ever created.
لـها البدرُ كأسٌ وهيَ شمسٌ يُدِيرُهَا
هـلالٌ وكـم يـبدو إذا مُزِجَتْ نَجم
A
wine which is the sun; its cup is the full moon, served by a crescent; reflecting
many a star when duly mixed.
ولـولا شـذَاها مـا اهتدَيتُ لِحانِها ولـولا
سَـناها مـا تصَوّرها الوَهْمُ
Had
it not been for its scent, I would not have discovered its tavern. Had it not
been for its splendor, my mind would have never fancied it.
ولـم يُـبْقِ منها الدّهْرُ غيرَ
حُشاشَةٍ كـأنّ خَـفاها في صُدور النُّهى كتْم
Eternity
has but consumed it all; its concealment in the bosom of the wise is a
well-guarded secret.
فـإن ذُكـرَتْ في الحَيّ أصبحَ أهلُهُ نَـشاوى ولا عـارٌ عـليهمْ ولا إثم
When
mentioned in a gathering, people become enraptured; unashamedly drunk;
ecstatically sinless.
ومِـنْ بـينِ أحشاء الدّنانِ تصاعدتْ ولـم
يَـبْقَ منها في الحقيقة إلاّ اسمُ
From
the midst of earthen jugs it has soared on high, with nothing left of it save
only a name.
وإن خَطَرَتْ يوماً على خاطرِ امرئِ أقـامتْ بـه الأفـراحُ وارتحلَ الهمّ
Whenever
it flashes in a man’s mind, great rejoicings abound, worries depart.
ولـو نَـظَرَ الـنُّدْمَانُ خَـتمَ
إنائِها لأسـكَرَهُمْ مـن دونِـها ذلكَ الختم
If
drinking companions see the seal of its jar, its sight leaves them intoxicated;
albeit not imbibing.
ولـو نَـضحوا منها ثرَى قبرِ مَيّتٍ لـعادتْ اليه الرّوحُ وانتَعَشَ الجسم
If
a dead man’s grave were sprinkled with it, his soul would return to him; his
body revives.
ولـو طَرَحُوا في فَيءِ حائطِ كَرْمِها
عـليلاً وقـد أشـفى لـفَارَقَهُ السّقم
If
a sick man were placed in the wall-shadow of its vineyard, his illness at once
vanishes, even if on the verge of death.
ولـو قَـرّبُوا من حانِها مُقْعَداً
مشَى وتـنطِقُ مـن ذِكْـرَى مذاقتِها البُكْم
If
a cripple were brought near its tavern, he would soon rise and walk; the mere
remembrance of its taste enables the dumb to speak.
ولـو عَبِقَتْ في الشرق أنفاسُ طِيبِها
وفـي الـغربِ مزكومٌ لعادَ لهُ الشَّمُّ
If
its fragrant breath permeates the East, a man with a congested nose in the West
would soon regain his smell.
ولـو خُضِبت من كأسِها كفُّ لامسٍ لـمَا
ضَـلّ فـي لَيْلٍ وفي يَدِهِ النجم
If
the hand of him who touches it were dyed with its color, he would never lose
his way at night; a star in his hand.
ولـو جُـليتْ سِـرّاً على أَكمَهٍ غَدا
بَـصيراً ومن راووقِها تَسْمَعُ الصّم
If
secretly revealed to a sightless man, he would see; the very sound of its
filtering makes the deaf hear.
ولـو أنّ رَكْـباً يَمّموا تُرْبَ
أرْضِهَا وفـي الرّكبِ ملسوعٌ لمَا ضرّهُ السّمّ
If
a troop of people set out in search of its soil, and among them one who’s
stung, poison would not cause him harm.
ولو رَسَمَ الرّاقي حُرُوفَ اسمِها على
جَـبينِ مُـصابٍ جُـنّ أبْرَأهُ الرسم
If
a necromancer inscribes its name on the forehead of a madman, he would be
healed of his madness by the script.
وفـوْقَ لِـواء الجيشِ لو رُقِمَ
اسمُها لأسـكَرَ مَـنْ تحتَ اللّوا ذلك الرّقْم
If
its name were writ on an army flag, all under the flag would be inebriated.
تُـهَذّبُ أخـلاقَ الـنّدامى
فـيّهْتَدي بـها لـطريقِ العزمِ مَن لا لهُ عَزْم
It
polishes the character of drinking companions; even the faltering one is
spurred on; goaded to the path of firm determination.
ويـكرُمُ مَـن لـم يَعْرِف الجودَ
كَفُّه ويـحلُمُ عـند الـغيظ مَن لا لهُ حِلم
It
opens the hand of the tight-fisted miser, endowing him with generosity; it
makes the irate lenient, with temper subdued.
ولـو نـالَ فَـدْمُ الـقومِ لَثْمَ
فِدَامِها لأكْـسـبَهُ مَـعنى شـمائِلها الـلّثْم
If
an inarticulate person kisses the cap of its bottle, it suffices to endure him
with its qualities sublime.
يـقولونَ لـي صِفْهَا فأنتَ بوَصفها خـبيرٌ
أَجَـلْ عِندي بأوصافها عِلم
They
ask me to give an account of it, saying “you can accurately describe it”. Yes,
indeed I can! Its description is well familiar to me.
صـفاءٌ ولا مـاءٌ ولُـطْفٌ ولا هَواً ونـورٌ
ولا نـارٌ وروحٌ ولا جِـسْمٌ
It
is clear, with no water; subtle, with no air; light, with no fire; soul, with
no body.
تَـقَـدّمَ كُــلَّ الـكائناتِ
حـديثُها قـديماً ولا شـكلٌ هـناك ولا رَسم
Since
time immemorial it has been an engrossing tale, even though intangible;
formless.
وقـامت بـها الأشـياءُ ثَـمّ لحكمَةٍ بـها
احتَجَبَتْ عن كلّ من لا له فَهْمُ
Things
were all made and sustained by it, but for a wise reason it became hidden from
all who lack understanding.
وهامتْ بها روحي بحيثُ تمازَجا اتّـحـاداً ولا جِـرْمٌ تَـخَلّلَه جِـرْم
My
soul, infatuated by it, became inseparably joined to it; with no bodily union
between the two.
فَـخَـمْر ولا كـرْم وآدَمُ لـي أب وكَـرْم ولا خَـمْر ولـي أُمُّـها أُمّ
Hence
a vine-less wine, Adam is my Father; a wine-less vine, its Mother is mine.
ولُـطْفُ الأوانـي في الحقيقة تابع لِـلُطْفِ الـمعاني والمَعاني بها تَنْمُو
Transparency
of receptacles is intimately linked to subtle meanings, swelling and expanding
within goblets clear.
وقـد وَقَـعَ الـتفريقُ والـكُلّ واحد فـأرواحُنا خَـمْرٌ وأشـباحُنا كَـرْم
Separation
has taken place, while the Whole is an indivisible One; our souls are the wine,
our phantoms the vine.
ولا قـبلَها قـبل ولا بَـعْدَ
بَـعْدَهَا وقَـبْليُّة الأبْـعادِ فـهْي لـها حَـتْم
None
has ever preceded it, none will be subsequent to it; primordial dimensions
surely belong to it.
وعَصْرُ المَدى من قَبله كان عصرَها وعـهْدُ أبـينا بَـعدَها ولـها الـيُتم
Timelessness
has ever been its epoch cycle. It is fatherless, as our father’s age dawned in
its wake.
مـحاسِنُ تَـهدي المادِحينَ لوَصْفِهَا
فَـيَحْسُنُ فـيها مـنهُمُ النّثرُ والنّظم
Its
splendid charms inspire lauders to extol its loveliness; excelling in its
description, in verse and prose.
ويَـطْرَبُ مَـن لم يَدْرِهَا عند
ذِكْرِهَا كَـمُشْتَاقِ نُـعْمٍ كـلّما ذُكـرَتْ نُعم
It’s
very mention transports him who has never previously heard of it; like a seeker
of Nu’m passionately desiring her whenever mentioned and discussed.
وقـالوا شَـرِبْتَ الإِثـمَ كـلاّ
وإنّما شـرِبْتُ التي في تركِها عنديَ الإِثم
They
say “you have quaffed sin when you drank of it,” O, no! I have sipped that
which the abstention from I consider impious, profane.
هـنيئاً لأهـلِ الدّيرِ كمْ سكِروا بها
ومـا
شـربوا مـنها ولـكِنّهم هَمّوا
Blessed
are the monastics and monks, they so frequently intoxicated with it; they,
however, never drank it; only endeavored.
وعـنديَ مـنها نَـشْوَةٌ قبلَ نشأتي مـعي
أبـداً تـبقى وإنْ بَليَ العَظْم
As
for me, I was intoxicated by it even before I appeared on the stage of life; it
is ever with me, even when my bones revert to dust.
عـليكَ بها صِرْفاً وإن شئتَ مَزْجَها فَـعَدْلُكَ عـن ظَلْم[1]
الحبيب هو الظُّلم
Imbibe
it undiluted, mix it if you will; but if you shun the mouth of the beloved, you
would have unjustly acted.
فَـدُونَكَهَا فـي الـحانِ واستَجْلها
به عـلى نَـغَمِ الألـحان فهيَ بها غُنْمُ
Hurry!
Seek it out in the tavern; uncover its beautiful face to the sweet melodies,
for indeed it is a matchless gain.
فـما سـكنَتْ والـهمَّ يوماً بموضع كـذلك
لـم يـسكُنْ مـع النَّغَم الغَم
It
never abides with care and worries in the same spot; even as soulful tunes with
distress never dwell.
وفـي سـكرةٍ منها ولَوْ عُمْرَ ساعةٍ تَـرَى
الدَّهْرَ عبداً طائعاً ولك الحُكْم
To
be intoxicated with it even for an hour, eternity itself becomes your servant;
you, in command.
فلا عَيْشَ في الدُّنْيا لمَن عاشَ
صاحياً ومَـن لم يَمُتْ سُكْراً بها فاته الحزم
He
who lives sober leads a meaningless existence; he who doesn’t drink to death is
a spineless weakling.
عـلى نـفسه فليَبْكِ مَن ضاع عُمْرُهُ ولـيسَ
لـهُ فـيها نَصيبٌ ولا سهمُ
Let him, who has wasted his life, abstaining from it, lament for himself; having no lot or allotment in it at all.
Abdul Matin Wasim
