1. Longing stirred you after the caravan slept,
And the saddle cloths settled into their straps.

2. So you shed tears that wouldn’t dry at sunset,
While rain poured over you, washing away your song.

3. You yearn with a longing like the prophet’s,
Seeking the sanctuary on the slopes of Kazima, rough going.

4. Be still! Passion has flooded my heart,
And too long has my complaining and blaming gone on.

5. The least of my concerns was that a night in Manjaj
Lit for us a fire whose embers refused to die out.

6. It ignited the darkness’s garb till it blazed,
And damp wood smoked freely beside it.

7. Then from the north came a sickly wind, playing
Between our souls in a vast empty space.

8. My sword shed copious tears over me,
Preserving my polished blades as love dictated.

9. My passion almost roused sword, mount, and friend
To answer me, and the graceful bend of a young woman’s form

10. Changing the scarf on her throat, while my heart

Chewed on arrak sticks till I knew their taste was sweet.

11. Her phantom came, and night dragged its train,
Bidding us farewell as dawn’s veils disclosed it.

12. By God, that comrade didn’t change his ways,
No separation made absence sweeter or nearness a burden.

13. I wished the night had not finished its weeping,
And that the grey hairs on its brow might remain.

14. We looked toward the heights, to the right of the sanctuary,
And what passion remains untried by a westering look?

15. While we were on the edge of a road like a sword,
When its path grew straight, a blade that bit deep.

16. High-humped she-camels led us into Iraq,
Their leather reins held in their hands grasping spears.

17. The clan of Abbas bring wealth to one seeking gain,
Honor to the seeker of glory, and a cave to the outcast.

18. They are a people on whom honor poured its shade,
And pride never toyed with the edges of their robes.

19. They are pillars rising to the zenith, sturdy
When the knot of war grows tight; then a band quick to unravel it.

20. With them lightnings are averted and wishes attained,
Rains implored and clouds made to shower down.

21. They make Mahdi—God built his glory
On a lofty, splendid base—their shelter and home.

22. To him belongs the towering peak of noble ancestors,
Whenever supremacy and sovereignty come within reach.

23. Kings ride out to hunt beneath his banner,
And terror of him moves ahead of them toward his enemies.

24. When they string their spearheads for a raid,
And the steeds, trained for onslaught, stir under them,

25. They refuse anything but a death-dealing thrust of the blade,
A blow that will heal the rancor of the wounded.

26. If not for the fear swords inspire, these battalions,
Guided by the Imam’s wisdom and the Book, would suffice.

27. White swords keep the wolves at bay around him,
While war unleashes its claws short of him.

28. To you, God’s trustee, I dedicate these poems,
That rove through the earth attended by their train.

29. Why should the mounts halt, after carrying us
Across Iraq’s wilderness, not even their saddle girths left?

30. Hobbled, while the turbulent sea foamed up
Over the shallows, with no water or grass near them.

31. The herd of the living kept away from it once it was clear
The land of grazing showed nothing but barrenness.