1. O people, why is this night in Safar
Growing longer, not shorter?

2. Since my companion was taken from me
On a fateful day by destiny's decree,

3. It was as if my heart was ripped in two
Between my brother Najd and its descent.

4. They were the loved ones whose loss I mourn today
I would sing happily in their camp’s vestige

5. And I said, while the honorable free men were below us
And the hearts of the tribe of Lajaan had grown used to my frequent song,

6. A prayer upon Azah of the Merciful, and her daughter
Layla, and a prayer upon her neighboring maidens,

7. Who are chaste women, not painted coquettes,
Black-eyed, who read no scripture.

8. They pastured their riding camels, shaded, fully watered
In a hollow between Sih and Jadr,

9. Where the she-camels meet their every lookout
Throwing those who approach their spring into confusion.

10. They captivate my heart with reddened spear-points
And with glances – though they are veiled in modesty!

11. Upon litters of startled gazelles
Who have just been startled, advancing with excuses.

12. May the eyes of my companions fail to see
When I say to them in individually spoken verse

13. “Does it please you to dwell on the lofty ‘Asim
Between Fahayn and Istabqal the cattle?”

14. I distinguished them with an evident distinction
Which my companions did not observe with their eyes.

15. Sometimes visible, sometimes concealed from me
By the terrain between ditch and hollow.

16. The ruddy, noble Hadu tribe, their lower legs
Dyed red by every crimson dye in Hawran, escort them.

17. The boat of fortune floats on a diminished sea
And fortune itself bares its heels and runs short.

18. It was as if the slender waists of the young warriors in their divisions
Were the moaning doves at the limit of ardor.

19. I followed their tracks with a well-practiced eye;
My eyes surpassed when urged to glance sidelong.

20. With a smooth gait like the sand-grouse of Dawsara
Whose elbows push nothing vainly in the trail,

21. As if she were a noble free woman whose tears
Poured from the desolation of Jabran between Qina’ and Dafar,

22. She stood erect toward a goal in the dark night
That enveloped al-‘Idha without offering breach,

23. Disturbing the tank from a tradition known
To wanders between plain and hill,

24. Whenever she came to its side she would stir it
So the wind slapped the fatty broth beneath the cooking pot,

25. Until when its turbidity departed from her
And the night contracted around the smoldering ashes,

26. She went in the morning like a perfumed youth
Whose supplication no supplicant can deter

27. Nor does he incline toward news.
So the dogs of Gauth greeted her at dawn

28. Examining, seeing the eye like a track.
A shudder of the ear made her elder female

29. A flower of Azhar, distraught with wine, bolt.
She crossed to the furthest distance, and following her

30. Were pard-skins revealed by the rending of dusk,
So the cave-keeper turned to guard his truth

31. Like the owner of mail from victorious Hawran.
Her lead remained in the garden blocking

32. Like gravel encountering the rill of the wanton boy.
So he repelled her, though her claws bled,

33. No fangs or talons scoring him.
Her elder remained rising above the prominence blocking

34. Yellow haunches from the flowers.
Could that be an untanned red hyena with mangy fur

35. Neither scabbed nor with scant coat?
He threw back his side, rejecting the leanness of its ribs—

36. A light, soft, downy coat of summer.
No yearling camel that followed after weaning

37. Roughened it, nor did branding thicken its hide.
As if it were a severed piece that had been set out

38. On sour milk, steeping in its turbidity.
A heavenly bright red, though colored

39. With the leg of the ram, the doe, then the she-goat.
It had been missing a part, so its drinking-places made it whole,

40. And the winds of summer returned it to treason.
So before sunset he started slapping her

41. With the violent slap of the watchful, cautious slave
They would come out at night from an abode known

42. To frequenter between the plain of Ama’aṭ and Sayir.
Until when the morning shone and the ostrich veil

43. Was lifted from the one of twin plumage, concealed,
And the paddocks of the well-watered land followed it

44. Until they were dyed with delight.
Until when it had reached the nearest vegetation, but

45. Did not fill the vessels of its throat or breast with water to drink,
The two yellow ones, stiff in old age,

46. Like the two lords in the keeps.
They competed for the first throw, which

47. The returning sharp shooter who kills despite his poverty, won.
Until when he filled both hands fate envied him

48. And the strength of the bowstring betrayed him.
They bolted faster than a diving bird

49. Swooping into ruins from a high plateau,
When they meet mares withoutbrands

50. They avoid them and make for the furthest side.
So the vigilance of the fearful was roused,

51. Not knowing where the first confusion came from.
She passed her morning between flags, in ambush,

52. Hollowed out like the cups of the compulsive gambler.
The wrists of her young ones were stripped bare by a prowler

53. Like a banner whose poles have been stripped of embroidery.
He probed her nest, and the dust rode him,