1. O Hurr, I have aged, my vision has weakened
And all that remains of my life is less than the time I still have

2. O Hurr, who can apologize for the misfortunes of time?
For I have no excuse against the calamities of fate

3. O Hurr, the blackness of my hair is now mixed with grey
The purity intermingled with the murkiness

4. O Hurr, the twisting locks of my youth are gone
I have no trace or sign of them left

5. I used to give gifts but receive none, so time
Taught me the beauty of restraint as my sight left me

6. My youth was preoccupied with its own needs, as time
Moved me on to my other needs of older age

7. I cast my grey hair as my riding beast, both of us standing firm
Sixty years since, and then closer to poverty we crept

8. I cast it away since grey hairs first sprouted
And for as many years again in my past life

9. I shoot arrows but grey hairs make me miss
As a cracked vessel, I set forth without victory

10. In my back and head, decay grew
And my legs became unsteady like one exhausted

11. Sulaima said from the valley of Suruh
There is no good in life after grey hair and old age

12. And the dust of her grave mocked me, so I said
What do you find ugly in me, my two daughters of my time?

13. If not for shyness and faith, I would have
Responded about some of your own shame, when you shamed my flaws

14. You both spoke words to me, shameless girls,
About what was due to my diminished strength

15. You are but like lost camels with no moon,
Your forms molded from darkness and night

16. If time destroys me once with decay
Then time brings down nations with its changes

17. Do not mock foolishly what I have tasted
Of pleasure and fertilty before decay

18. O neighbors, your path is upon a rugged road
Travel gently, do not pretend to know my story!

19. I tie my she-camel with tradition though we travel far
And I do not care even if we are on a journey

20. The sword is not safe if I unsheathe it around my camels
Until you see the flash of its lightning strike

21. My sword blow does not miss its target
And my strike cannot be avoided by caution

22. I do not stand at the water trough and withhold it
Showing my arms, striking with my whip

23. The owl's hooting does not frighten me as I ride it
When the echoes respond at dawn

24. Nor do I rise against the Master and insult him
My tusks and claws do not touch him

25. I have remaining battles and needs that visit me
And whatever the days have collected of sweet and bitter

26. Like the noble Indian swords in their status
Meet for every coarse garment of this age

27. Oh that I had some consolation to comfort my heart
From some of what saddens my heart from memories

28. If only the good old days before decay
Had brought our scattered tribes together

29. The weak returned to the house where once
I scared away the oppressive villains in the darkness

30. Oh eye, weep sincerely for the head of their tribe
That bent the spear in the darkest night

31. And who, when their wickedness passed all bounds,
Bore it without dismay or weariness

32. Who struck with their hands when the wine cups
Were passed around and the excitement of fortune stirred

33. Enemies of the horsemen, their tents murmuring
At frontiers between settlements and wilderness

34. The tribe of Hayjan approached them
Strong, tearing men who scorned to wear cloaks

35. Trustworthy and noble youths when they spread out
Their feet amid softened and hardened earth

36. They are made heedless of their cloaks by the scent of —
Wine passing round, toasting to the hardship of poverty

37. They rejoice not when their winner prevails
And do not flinch when luck goes against them

38. They are both refined and noble, when called to battle
Their cups do not cease though their arms rest

39. My people, the sons of Amer - remind them
Of this when speaking to the unjust with pride

40. Among them the noble flowers of men respond when
Fasting in daylight, striking flints to kindle flame

41. They feed on a mash of aromatic herbs
Blowing through the perforated nose-bone and greens

42. Stallions competing with youths, their saddles
Like hill-like camels, females and males

43. From every bay-colored and dark-bay steed
That grazes one day on the flowering shrub anemone

44. Wealth of men - were you to see them
You would say a flock of wild asses from the mountain

45. We quench the thirst of death's long night on its onset
And in our misfortune show patience from its trials

46. We feed the guest dried meat though the winter winds —
Howl around the encampment within the courtyard

47. We heap the fire with logs though the flames rise high
We do not flinch or shield ourselves from the fire

48. Can you see encampments challenged by opponents
Covering the battlefield between ruins and wineskins

49. They kindled a fire using the branches that were lifted
From the side of the large cooking pot

50. Layla's protectors spent the night seeking for her
Good burning wood, not slight or meager

51. Then they departed willingly after sacrifice
Like the camels of Gilan or Hijaz at dawn

52. The horses hastened to them until her mount shuddered
A giant, hugely built, uncastrated male

53. A stallion swimming powerfully in his creation
Fierce, biting his lip, reddening his gray coat

54. Thick of shoulder, his elbows unscarred
Eyes flashing, high-headed and sharp-sighted

55. I led the wild beasts, keeping back some of her harm
Until I was exiled with the baggage camels marching

56. The caravan breathed heavily in the resting places
While its regiments and fighters snorted loudly

57. In the barren lands the heart quails from it
The murmuring sounds of the beasts roaring

58. Among them the moaning unsettled hedgehog
And the tumult like a divorced woman wailing mourning cries

59. The yellow, blue and gray gazelle stand erect
Bound to the staff above the flowering shrub

60. And a raid like the wild cats I ignited
I struck it with a spear, sharp-sighted

61. And my friend pretends to be angry, sullen
Coming between the wild donkey and late afternoon

62. So I rose against him and he reared up
Bristling, standing on his stirrups unsteadily

63. I unleash my criticism though his tribes are many
Against a handful like the yellow carob pods

64. With downcast and silent eyebrows, and slackened cheek
While the eyes peer out beneath the shaggy forelock

65. He neighs with both incisors, it removes his bridle
In the death throes as the jinn witness his end

66. I say, and the rope is drawn tight around his muzzle
Loosened for him if its handle slips from our grasp

67. And the heart has a pocket beneath its fold
For the blood of Al-Walid behind the back with a stone

68. As if a lizard tightened its belt around
The insides of the malignant with layer upon layer

69. Billowing resin yet its amulets unleashed
Bare of necklace of shells or beads

70. He holds back the donkey loosely though it is bridled
Like a compliant branch pleading for rain

71. Restored when its evil guests left it
The harmful creatures and scourge of the ridge

72. As if it is the mass of a planet that thickened
By the bending of the north and the bow's jerk with the string

73. Its hide almost splits from its shoulders
By the stumbling, the moth's flight, and betrayal

74. The fetlock of Al-Walid with a twisted, sturdy thread
Between the ties in a straight rod of willow