تَرىyou see أَثَرَthe marks القُيونِof the smiths بِصَفحَتَيهِon its two sides
تَرى أَثَرَ القُيونِ بِصَفحَتَيهِ
كَسَومِlike the tracks النَملِof ants مِشيَتُهاtheir gait دَريجُstep by step
كَسَومِ النَملِ مِشيَتُها دَريجُ
You see the smiths’ marks on its two sides,
You see the tracks of caravans on the page
Like the tracks of ants moving step by step.
Like ants marching slowly in a line
كَماjust as أَلقىset down البَراثِنَthe talons وَسطَamid ضَحلٍa shallow pool
كَما أَلقى البَراثِنَ وَسطَ ضَحلٍ
مِنَof الرَنقاءِthe murky water غُرنَيقٌa crane عَموجُswaying in its gait
مِنَ الرَنقاءِ غُرنَيقٌ عَموجُ
As talons were planted in a shallow pool
As if they threw carpets amidst the shallows
Of murky water by a swaying crane.
A rolling dune of elegant shape
وَصَفراءُand a yellow bow البَرِيَّةِin its carving فَرعُa branch نَبعٍof nabʿ wood
وَصَفراءُ البَرِيَّةِ فَرعُ نَبعٍ
تَبَطَّنَهاtraverse its belly أَساريعٌcaterpillar-like streaks نُهوجُclear tracks
تَبَطَّنَها أَساريعٌ نُهوجُ
And a yellow bow, carved from a branch of nabʿ wood,
The yellow of the desert, a brook’s branch
Clear, caterpillar-like tracks traverse its belly.
Swarmed by quick rivulets and streams
وَبيضٌand white arrows كَالأَسِنَّةِlike spearheads مُرهَفاتٌfinely sharpened
وَبيضٌ كَالأَسِنَّةِ مُرهَفاتٌ
كَأَنَّas though ظُباتِهاtheir points عُقرٌa white cloudbank بَعيجُrent open
كَأَنَّ ظُباتِها عُقرٌ بَعيجُ
And white arrows, finely sharpened like spearheads,
And white like tongues they curve and bend
As though their points were a white cloudbank rent open.
As if their graceful necks they arch and bend
سِلاحيmy weapons ثُمَّmoreover قَدindeed عَلِمواthey have learned بِأَنّيthat I
سِلاحي ثُمَّ قَد عَلِموا بِأَنّي
إِذاwhen ماever فَرَّflees ذوthe one with العِذَرِexcuses السَميجُthe loathsome one
إِذا ما فَرَّ ذو العِذَرِ السَميجُ
These are my weapons; moreover, they have learned that I—
They know my weapons, and then they fled
Whenever the loathsome excuse-maker flees,
When the ignoble made weak excuses
فَوَلّىthen turns away سادِراًheedlessly يَطيمُcasts الحُظَيّاthe little arrow
فَوَلّى سادِراً يَطيمُ الحُظَيّا
وَزَحزَحَand carries farther away شَأَوَهُhis course العَدوُrunning الضَريجُheadlong
وَزَحزَحَ شَأَوَهُ العَدوُ الضَريجُ
Then turns away, heedless, casting the little arrow,
Turning away hastily the enemy withdrew
And headlong running carries him far away...
Repelled by my strong and fierce refusal
وَهادِيَةٍand many a herd-leader دَرَيناwe stalked فيin مَصامٍa standing-place
وَهادِيَةٍ دَرَينا في مَصامٍ
كَأَنَّas though سَراتَهاher back سَحلٌwhite cloth نَسيجُwoven
كَأَنَّ سَراتَها سَحلٌ نَسيجُ
And many a herd-leader we stalked where she stood,
And gently we walked through the path’s groove
As though her back were woven white cloth.
As if its smooth slope a carpet weaved
Sol 6.1