وارِفَةٌ لِلطَيرِ في أَرجائِها

وارِفَةٌ لِلطَيرِ في أَرجائِها

كَلَغَطِ الكُتّابِ في اِستِملائِها

كَلَغَطِ الكُتّابِ في اِستِملائِها

Leafy and spreading, with birds throughout its reaches,

A shelter for birds in its corners

Lush and shady, with birds filling its every corner,

like the clamor of scribes taking its dictation.

Like the scribbling of writers as they fill it

Sounding like the clamor of scribes taking dictation,

أَشرَفتُها وَالشَمسُ في خِرشائِها

أَشرَفتُها وَالشَمسُ في خِرشائِها

لَم يَبرُزِ المَقرورُ لِاِصطِلائِها

لَم يَبرُزِ المَقرورُ لِاِصطِلائِها

I looked down upon it, the sun still in its thin veil;

I looked over it as the sun glared in its crevices

I looked upon it while the sun was still veiled in its husk,

the chilled man had not come out to bask in its warmth.

The sealed one did not come out to bask in it

Before the chilled man had stepped out to warm himself by it,

بِشِقَّةٍ طَولُكَ في إِبقائِها

بِشِقَّةٍ طَولُكَ في إِبقائِها

إِذا اِنتَحى النازِعُ في اِنتِحائِها

إِذا اِنتَحى النازِعُ في اِنتِحائِها

With a split bow-stave, your height when left intact,

With effort you remain to keep it

With a seasoned stave of wood—your merit lies in preserving it—

when the bow-drawer sets himself to bending it,

When the opponent turns away in his defeat

When the archer strains, leaning deep into the draw,

لَم يَرهَبِ الفُطورَ مِن سِبائِها

لَم يَرهَبِ الفُطورَ مِن سِبائِها

يُعزى اِبنُ عُصفورٍ إِلى بُرائِها

يُعزى اِبنُ عُصفورٍ إِلى بُرائِها

he fears no splitting of its wooden strips.

The breakfast did not frighten away its birds

It fears no splitting from the tension of the pull,

Ibn ʿUṣfūr is credited with carving it,

The son of a sparrow is blamed for his innocence

Its shaping is attributed to the master Ibn Asfur,

حَتّى تَأَنّاها إِلى اِنتِهائِها

حَتّى تَأَنّاها إِلى اِنتِهائِها

وَاِستَوسَقَ القِشرُ عَلى لِحائِها

وَاِستَوسَقَ القِشرُ عَلى لِحائِها

patiently working it through to completion,

Until we slowed it down to its end

Who labored patiently over it until its perfection,

until the outer covering gathered tightly over its bark.

And the peel adhered to its smoothness

And the bark gathered firmly upon its inner wood,

وَشُمِّسَت فَيَبِسَت مِن مائِها

وَشُمِّسَت فَيَبِسَت مِن مائِها

فَالحُسنُ وَالجودَةُ مِن أَسمائِها

فَالحُسنُ وَالجودَةُ مِن أَسمائِها

It was sunned, and so dried of its moisture;

And it was sunned so it dried of its water

And it was sun-cured until it dried of all its sap,

thus beauty and excellence are among its names.

Beauty and generosity are among its names

So that beauty and excellence became its very names,

ثُمَّ اِبتَدَرنا الطَيرَ في اِعتِلائِها

ثُمَّ اِبتَدَرنا الطَيرَ في اِعتِلائِها

بَنادِقاً تُعجِبُ لِاِستِوائِها

بَنادِقاً تُعجِبُ لِاِستِوائِها

Then we assailed the birds as they rose,

Then we aimed at the birds in their ascent

Then we hastened toward the birds in their high flight,

with pellets admirable for their even shape,

With rifles that amaze in their balance

With clay pellets that amaze the eye by their perfect symmetry,

مِن طينَةٍ لَم تَدنُ مِن غَضرائِها

مِن طينَةٍ لَم تَدنُ مِن غَضرائِها

وَلَم يُخالِطها نَقا مَيثائِها

وَلَم يُخالِطها نَقا مَيثائِها

of clay that never came near its green, sticky clay,

Of clay that did not come near to greenness

Formed from clay that never neared soft marshy soil,

nor mingled with the sand of its soft ground.

And no blemish of copper mixed into it

And with which the grit of sandy earth never mixed,

لا تُحوِجُ الرامي إِلى اِنتِقائِها

لا تُحوِجُ الرامي إِلى اِنتِقائِها

فَهيَ تُراقي الطَيرَ في اِرتِقائِها

فَهيَ تُراقي الطَيرَ في اِرتِقائِها

They do not oblige the archer to pick them over;

It does not require the shooter to select

Not requiring the marksman to pick and choose among them,

they pursue the birds upward as they ascend,

For it strikes the birds in their rising

For they ascend to chase the birds in their rising,

مِثلَ تَلَظّي النارِ في اِلتِظائِها

مِثلَ تَلَظّي النارِ في اِلتِظائِها

مِن سودِ أَعجازٍ وَمِن رَهائِها

مِن سودِ أَعجازٍ وَمِن رَهائِها

like the flaring of fire as it blazes—

Like the blazing of fire in its kindling

Like the fierce blazing of a fire in its burning,

among the black-rumped birds and its cranes,

From blacks of backs and from greys

Striking those with black tail-feathers and spreading wings,

وَمِن شُروقاها وَمِن صَبغائِها

وَمِن شُروقاها وَمِن صَبغائِها

كُلَّ حَبَنطاةٍ عَلى اِحبِنطائِها

كُلَّ حَبَنطاةٍ عَلى اِحبِنطائِها

and among its shurūqā birds and its ṣabghāʾ birds:

And from its sunrises and from its dyed

And the Shuruqa and the Sabgha birds alike,

every potbellied bird, despite its swollen bulk,

Each earthenware on its stand

Every stout-bellied bird in its heavy fullness,

طَرّاحَةٌ لِلحوتِ مِن جَربائِها

طَرّاحَةٌ لِلحوتِ مِن جَربائِها

مَرثومَةُ الخَطمِ بِطينِ مائِها

مَرثومَةُ الخَطمِ بِطينِ مائِها

diving for fish from its star-speckled sky,

A wounding to the whale from its sores

That casts up the fish from within its crop,

its bill smeared with the mud of its waters,

Cleft-lipped from the mud of its water

Its beak smeared with the mud of its waters,

تَرفُلُ في نَعلَينِ مِن أَمعائِها

تَرفُلُ في نَعلَينِ مِن أَمعائِها

يَحُطُّها لِلأَرضِ مِن سَمائِها

يَحُطُّها لِلأَرضِ مِن سَمائِها

strutting in two sandals made from its entrails.

It crawls in two slippers from its guts

Strutting in two sandals made of its own entrails,

He brings it down to earth from its sky.

Dropping it to the ground from its heights

The shot brings it crashing down from its sky to the earth.