1. The vigour of youth has passed its zenith, as the ropes
Of age's tent are bound. Time leaves upon my temples

2. The snows of years. Patience and calm, my friends,
Alone remain, when youth's fair companions all are gone.

3. Long, long our tears flowed, and our sorrow burned
For the lost friend. But what avails our grief or yearning?

4. Wealth's feast is gone. Spring leaves no fruits or flowers.
The rain clouds and the cisterns fail us, and go dry.

5. Beauty obeyed its rule; youth's splendour fell
Upon her heart, and through her spirit pride was borne.

6. Though time and change exile me, yet I forget her not,
For lone remembrance is my friend, my confidant.

7. Her veil she lowered o'er her cheeks, as though she were
Of noble birth, though she no noble lineage claimed.

8. Did she but show her dimpled cheeks, disclose her smiling mouth
Though chilled by icy wind or warmed by wine-yet of the pearl,

9. Her beauty was; the dark and dawn her lovely witcheries.
For sport she toyed with us, while we were but the game

10. That lightens manhood's weight of solemn care.
At last I cried to her, ‘Fate turns the world awry!

11. Prudence, not rule, must change the chance of time.'
Ne'er in one land met Muhammed and An-Nuba,

12. Though Jaafar's brotherhood makes closest tie 'twixt me and him.
The tie holds good if rightly one can claim descent,

13. And not from bastard root pretend the noble stem.
My lineage, that the nights and waste-lands know full well,

14. Affirms its ancient pride, its unforgotten strain.
A care that stirred my heart but slower moved its wings,

15. Has changed through patient hope to longed for joy again.
The freshness of my cheek is tied in fortune's bag.

16. Her cheeks' young down preserves it from the robber's hand.
Not honey's self will find the sweet it craves

17. If busy search alone, and not long toil, demand.
When this world fades, we gain its treasures eagerly

18. And over rocks for them our difficult way must keep.
The caliph's honour crowns the glorious mosque;

19. Not flatterers there, but righteous worthies vigils keep.
Mine eyes desist from sleep's delight, lest I should see

20. Closed in ungenerous rest the wide unsleeping sky,
Or in the swarming streets should view unmoved the beggar's rags,

21. And widowed mothers mourning o'er their children's death.
A leader wise, who for himself alone will speak,

22. Is but the vanguard lacking all the army's strength,
Until the wise plan ends in victory, and troops

23. Bring their strong aid, and fight for him in battlefield.
Your name's their watchword, if of all her charms they count;

24. Else were your enemy's name for guerdon given.
For right you are the champion, and the buckler's aid,

25. Of glory, faith, and office, too-a pious judge severe.
A wanderer, like days that bring him bliss or pain;

26. For pain and bliss come to him from their touch.
Calm mind is his 'mid sneers of hostile folk, when travel stings;

27. Not here avails the lore of eloquence, or yearning's cry.
He sits unmoved in his own tribe's familiar haunts;

28. No trembling heart, no throbbing breast with fear is wrung.
Beneath, stern destiny holds sway, whose edge is sharper than

29. The sword; from it naught turns aside, or softens rage, or spares.
No chapter of the Book restrains it, and it swerves

30. For no man's pleasure, frowns not, neither smiles.
The Imam trusts to you the reins, for heavy grows the load;

31. Take then the steersman's place, and firmly grasp the helm!
To you the Caliph looks for wisdom's light to guide;

32. A lieutenant merely-only yours the sovereign rule.
Would he refuse to let you see him for a time,

33. Then every noble lion from his den comes forth again.
And should between you fall some hindering courtly screens

34. For one short day, then screens rise up 'twixt you and him.
The dawn precedes the sun, whose light from under

35. Earth's verge still hides, though dawn proclaims that he is there.
But from the mean would you these verses hide,

36. Nor let their forms be clothed in other verse obscure.
The noble and the base in them you blend,

37. Joy, folly, censure, earnest thought, and trifling wit.
Not from the musty books comes forth their subtle scent,

38. Nay, but those very books their perfume borrow.
High is the aim of him who sings your generous praise,

39. When of all song the greater part but flatters pride.
Take these poor scattered bits, whose worth is little,

40. With every foreign phrase that pedant learnèd fools steal.
There, piece them into one; let sober thought

41. And merry jest, truth, trifling, grief and gladness their life give.
My soul's intent while singing you is not divided,

42. And not two paths to your renown my song can find.
By right of kin I should revere you, but that right

43. Is made more just by all the care that you bestow on me.
Long since, while yet they lingered in their ignorance,

44. I was to truth a helper, as none ever helped but you.
Has one pail e'er touched another strange to it, or cloth

45. Been joined to cloth where no close kinship binds the two?
Now that the Caliph's power sustains the pillars

46. Of the faith, oh, let your strength support our art!
I sell my wares in thronged mart, but I see no buyers;

47. I seek the mart of buyers, while no sellers throng.
One land is green but dry; another wet but bare.

48. Take our song, that lonely is on earth, and give it thus
A place, from each strange, foreign thought and word redeemed,

49. When you shall pluck from every verse its faults.
Let earnest thought and trifling jest here

50. Blend themselves close; nobility and folly meet;
The ripened fruits alone cull from each line.

51. Be patron thou, for most of verse lacks all but flattery,
Since noblest thoughts awhile must wait their turn.