جَفنٌ تَجافى لِلخَلِيِّ عَنِ الكَرى

جَفنٌ تَجافى لِلخَلِيِّ عَنِ الكَرى

وَهَوىً تَهاوى بِالمَطِيّ عَلى السُرى

وَهَوىً تَهاوى بِالمَطِيّ عَلى السُرى

An eyelid that, for the carefree beloved, has forsaken sleep,

A lid that spurns the friend, turns away,

and a passion that plunged with the riding camels into night travel.

A passion that dives with longing astray,

وَمُثَقَّفٌ لَدنُ المَهَزِّ يَشوقُهُ

وَمُثَقَّفٌ لَدنُ المَهَزِّ يَشوقُهُ

ما شاقَني فَإِذا هَزَزتُ تَأَطَّرا

ما شاقَني فَإِذا هَزَزتُ تَأَطَّرا

And a straightened spear, supple when shaken, longs for

Refined by the caregiver's touch, desiring,

what stirred my longing; when I shook it, it bent.

No harm befell me, though shaken I sway,

وَقَدِ اِشتَبَهنا سُمرَةً وَنَحافَةً

وَقَدِ اِشتَبَهنا سُمرَةً وَنَحافَةً

فَلَوِ اِلتَفَتُّ لَما عَرَفتُ الأَسمَرا

فَلَوِ اِلتَفَتُّ لَما عَرَفتُ الأَسمَرا

We had come to resemble each other in brownness and slenderness,

We matched in dusk and slenderness alike,

so, had I turned to look, I could not have distinguished the brown spear.

If I turned, I wouldn't discern the dark gray,

وَأَقَبُّ يَحتَمِلُ الصَباحَ إِذا مَشى

وَأَقَبُّ يَحتَمِلُ الصَباحَ إِذا مَشى

شِيَةً وَيَنتَعِلُ الرِياحَ إِذا جَرى

شِيَةً وَيَنتَعِلُ الرِياحَ إِذا جَرى

And a lean-bellied steed bears the morning, when it walks,

I tread, fearing the morn should it tread,

as its marking, and wears the winds as shoes when it runs.

And barefoot when zephyrs whirl and play,

قَد باتَ يَحمِلُ لِبدُهُ ظَبيَ النَقا

قَد باتَ يَحمِلُ لِبدُهُ ظَبيَ النَقا

رَكضاً وَيَحمِلُ لِبدُهُ لَيثَ الشَرى

رَكضاً وَيَحمِلُ لِبدُهُ لَيثَ الشَرى

All night its saddlecloth bore a gazelle of the dunes

Through night he carried his innards' gazelle,

in the gallop, and its saddlecloth bore a lion of al-Shara.

And his innards' lion in gallop and fray,

وَحَثا التُرابَ عَلى الصَبا فَكَأَنَّما

وَحَثا التُرابَ عَلى الصَبا فَكَأَنَّما

أَزجى هُناكَ غَمامَةً بَرقٌ سَرى

أَزجى هُناكَ غَمامَةً بَرقٌ سَرى

And it flung dust upon the east wind, as though

The dust he hastened on youths lo! As if

lightning coursing by night had driven a cloud there.

He thundered afar clouds, lightning portray,

وَاِستَرجَفَ الأَرضَ الفَضاءَ بِوَثبَةٍ

وَاِستَرجَفَ الأَرضَ الفَضاءَ بِوَثبَةٍ

فَكَأَنَّ رُكناً خَرَّ فيها مِن حِرا

فَكَأَنَّ رُكناً خَرَّ فيها مِن حِرا

And with a leap it made the open ground quake,

The bare earth he shook with a leap then as if,

as though a rocky flank of Hira had crashed down upon it.

A firm mountain therefrom crumbled away,

مَزَّقتُ مِن خِلَعِ العَجاجَةِ فَوقَهُ

مَزَّقتُ مِن خِلَعِ العَجاجَةِ فَوقَهُ

ثَوباً بِأَطرافِ الرِماحِ مُدَنَّرا

ثَوباً بِأَطرافِ الرِماحِ مُدَنَّرا

Above it, I tore from the dust-cloud's robes of honor

With spear-tips from steed-armor shreds I tore,

a garment spangled with spearpoints like gold coins.

A robe blood-spattered in fervor of fray,

وَصَرَختُ يالَبَني رَحيمٍ صَرخَةً

وَصَرَختُ يالَبَني رَحيمٍ صَرخَةً

فَاِلتَفَّتِ الأَنجادُ حَولي عَسكَرا

فَاِلتَفَّتِ الأَنجادُ حَولي عَسكَرا

And I raised a cry: 'To my aid, sons of Rahim!'

I shouted “O kin of Rahim!” a shout,

so the valiant gathered around me as an army,

The regiments around me array,

مِن كُلِّ طَلقِ الوَجهِ تاهَ جَوادُهُ

مِن كُلِّ طَلقِ الوَجهِ تاهَ جَوادُهُ

زَهواً بِعِزَّةِ رَبِّهِ فَتَبَختَرا

زَهواً بِعِزَّةِ رَبِّهِ فَتَبَختَرا

each a cheerful-faced man whose steed exulted

From his face's horizons his steed wandered drunk,

in pride at its master's might, and strutted.

With the pride of its Lord, prancing in gray,

صَلَتِ الجَبينِ لَو أَنَّني مُستَقبِلٌ

صَلَتِ الجَبينِ لَو أَنَّني مُستَقبِلٌ

بِرُوائِهِ لَيلَ السِرارِ لَأَقمَرا

بِرُوائِهِ لَيلَ السِرارِ لَأَقمَرا

Bright of brow—were I to confront

If I met its forehead in night's secrets,

the moonless night with his beauty, it would turn moonlit.

I'd kneel over it kissing, pure as day,

ما إِن سَقَتكَ بِهِ السَماحَةُ مُزنَةً

ما إِن سَقَتكَ بِهِ السَماحَةُ مُزنَةً

إِلّا أَرَتكَ بِهِ الصَباحَةُ نَيِّرا

إِلّا أَرَتكَ بِهِ الصَباحَةُ نَيِّرا

Never does generosity give you drink through him as a raincloud

When kindness offered you sorrow therein,

without beauty showing you in him a shining light.

Dawn with its light made it cheerful and gay,

وَأَغَرَّ أَزهَرَ باتَ يَعبَقُ نَفحَةً

وَأَغَرَّ أَزهَرَ باتَ يَعبَقُ نَفحَةً

فَكَأَنَّ في بُردَيهِ رَوضاً أَزهَرا

فَكَأَنَّ في بُردَيهِ رَوضاً أَزهَرا

And a bright-faced, radiant man spent the night exuding fragrance,

And the bloom that fragrantly breathed through night,

as though within his two cloaks lay a garden in bloom.

Seemed a garden still dewy its bouquet,

طَلقَ المُحَيّا وَاليَدَينِ كَأَنَّهُ

طَلقَ المُحَيّا وَاليَدَينِ كَأَنَّهُ

قَمَرٌ تَطَلَّعَ في غَمامٍ أَمطَرا

قَمَرٌ تَطَلَّعَ في غَمامٍ أَمطَرا

Cheerful-faced and openhanded, as though he were

Your smile shone like the moon peeking out

a moon that rose within a cloud that poured down rain.

Of drizzling clouds, hands radiant as day,

لَبِسَ الرِداءَ مِنَ الثَناءِ مُطَرَّزاً

لَبِسَ الرِداءَ مِنَ الثَناءِ مُطَرَّزاً

فَوقَ القَميصِ مِنَ الحَياءِ مُعَصفَرا

فَوقَ القَميصِ مِنَ الحَياءِ مُعَصفَرا

He wore an embroidered mantle of praise

You wore the cloak of glory embroidered,

over a safflower-dyed shirt of modesty.

Over the shirt of shyness lemon-array,

اِستَمجَدَ الأَشرافُ مِن شَرَفٍ بِهِ

اِستَمجَدَ الأَشرافُ مِن شَرَفٍ بِهِ

فَمَشى اليَراعُ بِكَفِّهِ مُتَبَختِرا

فَمَشى اليَراعُ بِكَفِّهِ مُتَبَختِرا

The nobles drew glory from the nobility in him,

Nobles boasted of glory through you,

so the reed pen strode proudly in his palm.

And the rabble walked proudly astray,

فَلَرُبَّ سَمراءِ الأَديمِ طَويلَةٍ

فَلَرُبَّ سَمراءِ الأَديمِ طَويلَةٍ

حَسَدَت بِراحَتِهِ القَصيرَ الأَصفَرا

حَسَدَت بِراحَتِهِ القَصيرَ الأَصفَرا

For many a long, brown-skinned spear

Many a swarthy, tall, skinny female

envied the short yellow pen in his palm.

Envied you, diminutive, yellow, and gray,

وَإِلَيكَها فَاِهنَأ بِها مِن مِدحَةٍ

وَإِلَيكَها فَاِهنَأ بِها مِن مِدحَةٍ

أَهدَيتُها رَوضاً إِلَيكَ مُنَوَّرا

أَهدَيتُها رَوضاً إِلَيكَ مُنَوَّرا

And here it is for you—delight in this poem of praise;

To her this ode's gift, a garden for you

I have offered it to you as a garden in bloom.

With eulogy's light effulgently gay,

فَتَلَألَأَت حُسناً بِمَجدِكَ حُلَّةً

فَتَلَألَأَت حُسناً بِمَجدِكَ حُلَّةً

وَتَنَفَّسَت طيباً بِحَمدِكَ مُجمَرا

وَتَنَفَّسَت طيباً بِحَمدِكَ مُجمَرا

So, as a robe, it sparkled with beauty through your glory,

In your glory her dress now shimmers bright,

and, as a censer, breathed fragrance through praise of you.

And your praise makes her incense-sweet as day,

وَسِوايَ يَكذِبُ في سِواها مِدحَةً

وَسِوايَ يَكذِبُ في سِواها مِدحَةً

فَاِرغَب بِسَمعِكَ عَن حَديثٍ يُفتَرى

فَاِرغَب بِسَمعِكَ عَن حَديثٍ يُفتَرى

And others than I lie in praise-poems other than this,

But others lie in their praise, so turn

so turn your ear away from fabricated speech.

Your hearing from fabricated display!