عهد السرور وريعان الهوى النضر — أبو المعالي الطالوي

عَهدَ السُرورِ وَرَيعانَ الهَوى النَضِر

سَقاكَ عَهدُ الحَيا رَقراقَ مُنحَدرِ

O season of joy and fresh first bloom of love,

May the season of rain water you with a shimmering downpour.

وَجادَ رَبعَك وَسميٌّ تُكَركِرُهُ

رِيحُ الصَبا بَينَ مُنهلٍّ وَمُنهَمِرِ

And may autumn rain lavishly water your abode, driven along

By the east wind, between pouring showers and streaming torrents.

وَغَرَّدت في رباكَ الوُرقُ وَاِبتَكَرَت

بِلَحنِ مَعبدَ تَتلُو أَطيبَ الخَبَرِ

And may gray doves sing on your hills, coming early

With Maʿbad's melody, reciting the sweetest tidings.

وَلا بَرحتَ مُعانا لِلحِسانِ وَلا

رَمتكَ أَيدي النَوى بِالحادث الغَررِ

May you never cease to be a haven for beauties, nor

May separation's hands strike you with a perilous calamity.

وَلا أَغبَتكَ أَرواحُ النَسيمِ وَلا

عَدت مَغانيك أَخلافٌ مِنَ المَطرِ

May the breaths of the breeze never visit you intermittently, nor

May successive showers pass your dwellings by.

كَم لي بِها وَشَبابي الغَضّ مُقتَبِلٌ

مِن مَنزلٍ آهلٍ بِالشَوقِ وَالذِكرِ

How many I had there, when my tender youth was dawning—

Dwellings filled with longing and remembrance!

كَمِ اِجتَلَيتُ بُدوراً مِن مَطالِعِها

كَم نيل تَحتَ سَناها مِن سَنا قَمرِ

How many full moons I beheld from their rising places!

How much moonlight was won beneath their radiance!

مِن كُلِّ رُعبُوبةٍ تَهفو بِمُصطَبري

قَد زانَها الحُسنُ بَينَ الدَلِّ وَالحوَرِ

From every tender beauty who carries my patience away,

Whom beauty adorned with coy grace and luminous dark eyes.

رُودٌ كَسَتها يَدُ الأَيّام ثَوبَ صبا

وَصَيّرتها اللَيالي فِتنةَ البَشَرِ

A tender girl whom the hand of days clothed in youth's robe,

And the nights made her a temptation to mankind.

هَيفاءَ صَبَّ الصِبا ماءَ الشَباب عَلى

أَعطافِها وَكَساها حُلّة الخَفَرِ

Slender-waisted: girlhood poured the water of youth over

Her curves, and clothed her in a robe of modesty.

قامَت تُعانِقُني يَومَ الوَداع وَقَد

قَلَّدتُها مِن دُموعي رائقَ الوُرَرِ

She rose to embrace me on the day of farewell, when I had

Strung round her neck the clear pearls of my tears.

تَقولُ وَالبينُ تَغشاها رَكائِبه

وَالدَمع يَقطر فَوقَ الخَدِّ مِن حَذَرِ

She says, as separation's riding camels surround her,

And tears drip upon her cheek from apprehension:

لا تَعتَبِ الدَهرَ إِن حالَت خَلائِقُهُ

فَصَفو رَونَقه لَم يَخلُ مِن كَدَرِ

Do not reproach Time if its ways have changed;

For the purity of its splendor has never been free of murk.

وَإِن تُرِد تَتَّقي مِن صَرفهِ نُوَباً

فَالجأ لِظل عِمادِ الدينِ تَستَترِ

And if you wish to guard against the calamities of its turns,

Then seek refuge in the shade of Imad al-Din, and be sheltered.

مَولىً حِماهُ غَدا أَمن المَرُوعِ كَذا

جَنابُهُ الرَحبُ مَأوى الخائِفِ الحَذرِ

A lord whose sanctuary has become safety for the terrified; likewise,

His spacious domain is a refuge for the fearful and wary.

لا زالَ يَسمو إِلى العَلياءِ مُرتَقِياً

بِسُؤددٍ مَجدهُ سامٍ عَلى الزُهرِ

He has never ceased to rise, ascending toward the heights,

With lordly honor, his glory towering above the bright stars,

حَتّى اِمتَطى صَهواتِ المَجدِ سامِيَةً

يَختالُ في حُلل الأَوضاع وَالغُرَرِ

Until he mounted the lofty saddlebacks of glory,

Striding proudly in robes of compositions and choice gems.

بِهِمّةٍ تُجتلى كَاللَيثِ ذي أَشَرٍ

وَعَزمةٍ كَمضاءِ الصارم الذَكَرِ

With ambition manifest as a lion in proud vigor,

And determination like the cutting power of a hard-steeled sword.

ما فاضلٌ قَطُّ جاراه إِلى أَمَدٍ

في البَحثِ إِلّا اِنثَنى بِالعِيِّ وَالحَصَرِ

No learned man ever raced him toward a goal

In debate without turning back, faltering and speechless.

أَقلامُهُ السُمر في بيضِ الطُروس إِذا

مَشَت أَرتكَ فِعال البيضِ السُمرِ

His brown pens, upon the white pages, when

They move, show you the deeds of bright swords and brown spears.

لَهُ سَجايا كَنَشرِ الرَوضِ ذي الزَهَرِ

وَقَد تَوَشَّحَ بِالأَنهارِ وَالغُدُرِ

His traits are like the fragrance of a flower-filled garden,

When it has draped itself with rivers and pools.

يَلقاكَ طَلق المُحَيّا وَهوَ مُبتَسِمٌ

بِمَنطقٍ وِردُهُ أَحلى مِن الصَدَرِ

He meets you with an open face, smiling,

With speech sweeter to approach than to leave.

ما الرَوضُ جادَت لَهُ الأَنواء بِالبُكر

وَكَلَّلت دَوحَهُ المُخَضَلّ بِالزَهرِ

No garden, watered by the rain-bearing stars at dawn,

Its rain-drenched great trees crowned with blossoms,

جادَ الغَمامُ لَهُ سِرّاً بِوابِلهِ

وَأَكسَبَتهُ الصَبا مِن رِقّةِ السَحَرِ

The clouds secretly lavishing their downpour upon it,

And the east wind lending it the gentleness of pre-dawn,

فَاِزدانَ بِالنورِ غِبَّ القَطر فَهوَ على

نَهرِ الأُبُلَّةِ حُسناً راقَ لِلنَظَرِ

Then adorned with blossoms after rain, standing beside

The river of al-Ubulla, a beauty that delights the eye—

تَخالُ زَهرَ الأَقاحي في خَمائِلِهِ

زَهرَ المَجَرَّة صِينَت عَن يَدِ الغِيَرِ

You fancy the chamomile blossoms in its thickets

Are the Milky Way's blossoms, spared the hand of change;

تَشدُو الحَمامُ عَلى أَغصانِهِ سَحَراً

فَتَبعَثُ الشَوقَ في أَحشاءِ مُستَعِرِ

Doves sing upon its branches before dawn,

Stirring longing in the heart of one aflame—

يَوماً بِأَحسَن مَرأىً مِن شَمائِلِهِ

وَلا بَأذكى شَذاً مِن نَشرِها العَطِرِ

Is ever fairer to behold than his qualities,

Nor sweeter in scent than their fragrant breath.

يا فاضِلاً كَم جَلَت أَبكارُ فِكرَتِهِ

غُرَّ المَعاني لَنا في أَحسَنِ الصُورِ

O learned man, whose mind's maiden thoughts have so often unveiled

The choicest meanings for us, in the fairest forms!

وَاِبنَ الكِرام وَمَن شادوا بِعَزمِهم

رُكنَ العُلا سامِياً في سالِفِ العُصُرِ

And O son of the noble, and of those who through their resolve raised

The pillar of eminence aloft in bygone ages;

وَيا عِماداً لِبَيتِ الفَضلِ يَرفَعُهُ

وَكانَ مِن ضَعفِهِ يلفى عَلى خَطرِ

And O pillar of the house of excellence, who raises it up,

When its weakness had left it in jeopardy;

إِلى ذُراك أَتَت فَاِقبل عَلى دَخَلٍ

نَسيجَها يا رَئيس البَدوِ وَالحَضَرِ

To your heights it has come: accept, despite its flaws,

Its woven fabric, O chief of nomads and townsfolk.

لا زِلتَ في نِعَمٍ تَسمُو بِسُؤددِها

هامَ السِماكَين حَيثُ النَسرُ لَم يَطرِ

May you ever dwell in blessings, rising through their nobility above

The crowns of the two Simaks, where the Eagle has never flown,

ما ناحَ بِالأَيك قُمري وَما سَجعت

وُرقُ الحَمائم بالآصالِ وَالبُكرِ

As long as a turtledove mourns in the groves, and as long as

The gray doves coo at evening and at dawn;

وَما وَشى الطِرسَ تَنميقُ اليَراع بِما

يُزري بِوَشي الرُبا بِسّامة الزَهرِ

And as long as the reed pen's embellishment brocades the page with what

Puts to shame the brocade of hills smiling with flowers.