إِذا عَبّا أَبو الهَيجا

إِذا عَبّا أَبو الهَيجا

ءِ لِلهَيجاءِ فُرسانا

ءِ لِلهَيجاءِ فُرسانا

When Abu al-Hayja mustered

When Abu Al-Hayja

When the Father of Battle marshals his ranks,

horsemen for battle,

Brought knights to Al-Hayja

Gathering horsemen for the fray,

وَسارَت رايَةُ المَوتِ

وَسارَت رايَةُ المَوتِ

أَمامَ الشَيخِ إِعلانا

أَمامَ الشَيخِ إِعلانا

and Death's banner advanced

And the banner of death

And the banner of death advances forth,

before the sheikh, in open display,

Marched ahead of the Sheikh as a declaration

Before the Elder, a grim proclamation;

وَشَبَّت حَربُها وَاِشتَ

وَشَبَّت حَربُها وَاِشتَ

عَلَت تُلهِبُ نيرانا

عَلَت تُلهِبُ نيرانا

and its war flared and blazed

And its war flared up flaming fires

When the fires of war are fully stoked,

up, kindling fires,

Baring ferocious fangs and teeth

And blaze with high and scorching flames,

وَأَبدَت لَوعَةَ الوَق

وَأَبدَت لَوعَةَ الوَق

عَةِ أَضراساً وَأَسنانا

عَةِ أَضراساً وَأَسنانا

and battle's anguish bared

We made bows our hands

When the clash reveals its cruel anguish,

its molars and teeth,

And arrows of bows our amusement

Baring its molars and grinding teeth;

جَعَلنا القَوسَ أَيدينا

جَعَلنا القَوسَ أَيدينا

وَنَبلَ القَوسِ سَوسانا

وَنَبلَ القَوسِ سَوسانا

we made our hands the bow,

And offered instead of arrows and spears

We make our very hands the bows,

and lilies the bow's arrows;

Basil and thyme

And make the arrows lilies white;

وَقَدَّمنا مَكانَ النَب

وَقَدَّمنا مَكانَ النَب

لِ وَالمِطرَدِ رَيحانا

لِ وَالمِطرَدِ رَيحانا

and offered, in place of arrows

So our war became intimacy

And where the sharpest darts should be,

and the lance, sweet basil.

And we became boon companions

We offer basil and sweet herbs;

فَعادَت حَربُنا أُنساً

فَعادَت حَربُنا أُنساً

وَعُدنا نَحنُ خِلّانا

وَعُدنا نَحنُ خِلّانا

So our war became merriment,

With lads who see killing

Thus our war becomes pure intimacy,

and we ourselves became friends,

As a sacrifice of pleasure

And we turn back into close companions.

بِفِتيانٍ يَرَونَ القَت

بِفِتيانٍ يَرَونَ القَت

لَ في اللَذَّةِ قُربانا

لَ في اللَذَّةِ قُربانا

with youths who deem killing

When they beat the drum

With youths who view the act of slaughter,

in pleasure a sacrificial offering.

We beat the flutes

In the throes of pleasure as an offering.

إِذا ما ضَرَبوا الطَبلَ

إِذا ما ضَرَبوا الطَبلَ

ضَرَبنا نَحنُ عيدانا

ضَرَبنا نَحنُ عيدانا

When they beat the drum,

And set up tents

Whenever they beat the drums of war,

we ourselves played lutes.

Of various colors

We strike the strings of the singing lute;

وَأَنشَأنا كَراديساً

وَأَنشَأنا كَراديساً

مِنَ الخَيرِيِّ أَلوانا

مِنَ الخَيرِيِّ أَلوانا

And we formed battalions

And stones of catapults

And we deploy our dense battalions,

of wallflowers in varied colors;

Are apples of Lebanon to us

Of wallflowers in painted hues;

وَأَحجارُ المَجانيقِ

وَأَحجارُ المَجانيقِ

لَنا تُفّاحُ لُبنانا

لَنا تُفّاحُ لُبنانا

and the catapults' stones

And the carrier of our war is one who pours

And the heavy stones of mangonels,

were, for us, apples from Lebanon.

Wine making us drink

Are, for us, the apples of Lebanon.

وَمَنشا حَربِنا ساقٍ

وَمَنشا حَربِنا ساقٍ

سَبا خَمراً فَسَقّانا

سَبا خَمراً فَسَقّانا

And the source of our war was a cupbearer

Urging the cup to connect

The instigator of our war is a cupbearer,

who bought wine, then gave us drink.

Our latter to our former

Who poured the vintage wine for us;

يَحُثُّ الكَأسَ كَي تَلحَ

يَحُثُّ الكَأسَ كَي تَلحَ

قَ أُخرانا بِأولانا

قَ أُخرانا بِأولانا

He urges the cup along, so that

You see this one slain

He urges on the passing cup,

our last cup may catch up with our first.

And that one dragging drunk

That the last of us may catch the first.

تَرى هَذاكَ مَصروعاً

تَرى هَذاكَ مَصروعاً

وَذا يَنجَرُّ سَكرانا

وَذا يَنجَرُّ سَكرانا

You see that one laid low,

So this is no war

You see one warrior struck to the ground,

and this one dragged along, drunk.

That grieves people out of aggression

Another dragging himself in stupor;

فَهَذي الحَربُ لا حَربٌ

فَهَذي الحَربُ لا حَربٌ

تَغُمُّ الناسَ عُدوانا

تَغُمُّ الناسَ عُدوانا

So this is war—not a war

With it we kill them, then

This is the war—not a war of blood,

that afflicts people through aggression.

With it we publish our killing

That grieves mankind with aggression;

بِها نَقتُلُهُم ثُمَّ

بِها نَقتُلُهُم ثُمَّ

بِها نَنشُرُ قَتلانا

بِها نَنشُرُ قَتلانا

With it we kill them, then

With wine we slay them, and then,

with it we bring our slain to life.

With wine we resurrect our slain.