بشار بن برد طال ليْلِي مِنْ حُبِّ Bashar ibn Burd, The night lingers for love of one who

طال ليْلِي مِنْ حُبِّ مَنْ لا أَرَاهُ مُقَارِبِي
أبداً ما بدا لعيـنكَ ضوءُ الكواكبِ
أو تغنَّت قصيدة ً قَيْنَة ٌ عِنْدَ شَارِبِ
فتعزَّيتُ عن عبيـدة والحبُّ غالبي
تِلْكَ لوْ بِيعَ حُبُّهَا ابْـتَعْتُهُ بِالْحَرَائبِ
وَلَو اسْطَعْتُ طائعاً فِي الأُمورِ النَّوَائب
لفَدَاهَا مِنَ الرَّدَى هاربي بعد قاربي
عتبت خلَّتي وذو الحــحُبِّ جَمُّ الْمَعَاتِبِ
من حديثٍ نمى إليـها بهِ قولُ كاذب
فتقلَّبتُ ساهراً  مقشعرَّ الذًّوائبِ
عجباً من صدودها وَالْهَوَى ذُو عَجَائبِ
ولقد قلتُ والدُّمـعُ لباسُ التَّرائبِ
لو بدا اليأسُ من عبيـدة َ قد قامَ نادبي
عَبْدَ باللَّه أطْلِقِي من عذابٍ مواصبِ
رَجُلاً كانَ قَبْلكُمْ رَاهِباً أوْ كرَاهِبِ
يَسْهَرُ اللَّيْلَ كُلَّهُ نظراً في العواقبِ
فثناهُ عنِ العبــادَة ِ وَجْدٌ بِكاعِبِ
شغلتهُ بحبِّها عن حسابِ المحاسبِ
عَاشِقٌ لَيْسَ قَلْبُهُ مِنْ هَوَاهَا بِتَائبِ
يشتكي من فؤادهِ مِثْل لسْع الْعَقَاربِ
وكذاك الْمُحِبُّ يَلْقَى قى بذكرِ الحبائبِ
ولقد خفتُ أن يروحَ بنعشي أقاربي
عَاجِلاً قَبْل أنْ أرَى فِيكمُ لينَ جَانِبِ
فإذا ما سمعتِ باكِيَة ً مِنْ قَرَائِبِي
ندبت في المسلِّباتِ قَتِيل الْكوَاعِبِ
فاعلمي أنّ حبَّكم قادني للمعاطبِ

The night lingers for the love of one I know will not approach me.

Never, so long as the stars appear to your eyes,

or a stripper dances to a song for a drunken patron,

will I find consolation on account of Abbey. Her love so overpowers me,

were it for sale I would willingly give everything I have to purchase it,

were I capable in matters of fate and fortune

to rescue her from ruin, and not worthless.

My mistress accused me, and the lover stands fully accused,

because of a tale told to her by a liar.

So I tossed and turned restless, my hair cold with sweat,

wondering at her rejection, and desire is full of wonders,

And I said, with tears covering my chest,

"If I despair on account of Abbey, I am good as dead."

Oh Abbey, for god´s sake set me free from this unending torment.

A man who, before you came on the scene was a monk or like a monk,

distracted the entire night, considering the consequences.

Then desire for a buxom breasted beauty distracted him from divine service,

she diverted him with her love from the reckoning of the Reckoner.

A lover, whose heart will never repent of desire for her,

suffering in his heart as if bitten by scorpions.

So the lover keeps from mentioning the flirtations

for fear that my own people should immediately carry out my killing,
before I see your tender side.

So when you hear a wailing cry from one of my female relatives, 

among the black robed women over one killed by buxom breasted beauties,

know that your love drove me to destruction.

translated into English by Mark Westergreen