مَاwhat ليfor me أَرَىI see شِعرَpoetry of مَرجِMarj كُحلٍKuhl
مَا لي أَرَى شِعرَ مَرجِ كُحلٍ
أَشأَمَmore ill-omened مِنthan ناقَةِshe-camel of البَسوسِal-Basus
أَشأَمَ مِن ناقَةِ البَسوسِ
Why do I find Marj Kuhl’s poetry
Why do I see the swaying meadows' grass
more ill-omened than al-Basus’s she-camel?
As musky as the she-camel's trailing robe?
فَإِنَّماfor it is only شِعرُهُhis poetry مُغيرٌa raider
فَإِنَّما شِعرُهُ مُغيرٌ
شَنَّlaunched مُغاراًa raid عَلىupon النُّفوسِthe souls
شَنَّ مُغاراً عَلى النُّفوسِ
For his poetry is nothing but a raider
It only seems so, for the wind has passed
that has launched a raid upon souls.
Sweeping its heavy perfume, and I probe
Sol 6.1