1. إِنَّ الحَوادِثَ قَد يَجيءُ بِها الغَدُ

    وَالصُبحُ وَالإِمساءُ مِنها مَوعِدُ

    Indeed, tomorrow may bring calamities,

    and morning and evening are their appointed times.

  2. وَالناسُ يَلحَونَ الأَميرَ إِذا غَوى

    خَطبَ الصَوابِ وَلا يُلامُ المُرشَدُ

    And people reproach the ruler when he strays

    in matters of right judgment; the well-guided is not blamed.

  3. وَالمَرءُ مِن رَيبِ المَنونِ بِغِرَّةٍ

    وَعَدا العَداءُ وَلا تُوَدَّعُ مَهدَدُ

    And a man is off guard against death's vicissitudes;

    a hindrance intervenes, and Mahdad receives no farewell.

  4. أُدمانَةٌ تَرِدُ البَريرَ بِغيلِها

    تَقرو مَسارِبَ أَيكَةٍ وَتَرَدَّدُ

    A pale gazelle comes to the arak berries in her thicket,

    tracing a grove's pathways and wandering to and fro.

  5. وَخَلا عَلَيها ما يُفَزِّعُ وِردَها

    إِلّا الحَمامُ دَعا بِهِ وَالهُدهُدُ

    Nothing remains around her to startle her at the water,

    save the doves calling there and the hoopoe.

  6. فَدَعا هَديلاً ساقُ حُرٍّ ضَحوَةً

    فَدَنا الهَديلُ لَهُ يَصُبُّ وَيَصعَدُ

    Then a ringdove called to a male dove at forenoon,

    and the male dove drew near, swooping down and soaring up.

  7. زَعَمَ الأَحِبَّةُ أَنَّ رِحلَتَنا غَداً

    وَبِذاكَ خَبَّرَنا الغُدافُ الأَسوَدُ

    The loved ones say that our departure is tomorrow,

    and the black raven has told us so.

  8. فَاِقطَع لُبانَتَهُم بِذاتِ بُرايَةٍ

    أُجُدٍ إِذا وَنَتِ الرِكابُ تَزَيَّدُ

    Then sever your longing for them on a camel with strength to spare,

    stoutly built, who quickens when the riding camels flag.

  9. وَكَأَنَّ أَقتادي تَضَمَّنَ نِسعَها

    مِن وَحشِ أورالٍ هَبيطٌ مُفرَدُ

    And it is as though my saddle-frame's girth were borne

    by a lone wild bull of Awral, come down to low ground.

  10. باتَت عَلَيهِ لَيلَةٌ رَجَبِيَّةٌ

    نَصباً تَسُحُّ الماءَ أَو هِيَ أَسوَدُ

    A night of Rajab settled over him,

    wearisome, pouring down water—or darker still.

  11. يَنفي بِأَطرافِ الأَلاءِ شَفيفَها

    فَغَدا وَكُلُّ خَصيلِ عُضوٍ يُرعَدُ

    He wards off its piercing chill with the branches of alāʾ shrubs,

    then sets out at dawn, every muscle in his limbs trembling.

  12. كَالكَوكَبِ الدِرّيءِ يَشرَقُ مَتنُهُ

    خَرِصاً خَميصاً صُلبُهُ يَتَأَوَّدُ

    Like a brilliant star, his back shines,

    cold and hungry, hollow-bellied, his spine flexing,

  13. في رَوضَةٍ ثَلَجَ الرَبيعُ قَرارَها

    مَولِيَّةٍ لَم يَستَطِعها الرُوَّدُ

    in a meadow whose ground the spring rain has cooled,

    watered by later rains, beyond the reach of pasture-scouts.

  14. وَبَدا لِكَوكَبِها صَعيدٌ مِثلَ ما

    ريحَ العَبيرُ عَلى المَلابِ الأَصفَدُ

    And the ground amid its blossoms appeared as though

    compounded ʿabīr perfume had been wafted over milāb.

  15. وَإِذا سَرَيتَ سَرَت أَموناً رَسلَةً

    وَإِذا تُكَلِّفُها الهَواجِرَ تُصخِدُ

    And when you journey by night, she goes on, reliable and easy-paced;

    and when you task her with the midday heats, she travels through their blaze.

  16. وَإِلى شَراحيلَ الهُمامِ بِنَصرِهِ

    نَصرَ الأَشاءَ سَرِيُّهُ مُستَرغَدُ

    And on to Sharahil the magnanimous, with his succor;

    his plentiful stream has watered the palms.

  17. مَن سَيبُهُ سَحُّ الفُراتِ وَحَملُهُ

    يَزِنُ الجِبالَ وَنَيلُهُ لا يَنفَدُ

    He whose bounty is the Euphrates' torrent, and whose burden

    weighs as much as mountains; his giving never runs dry.