بَكَت عَيني وَعاوَدَها قَذاها

بَكَت عَيني وَعاوَدَها قَذاها

بِعُوّارٍ فَما تَقضي كَراها

بِعُوّارٍ فَما تَقضي كَراها

My eye wept, and its grit returned to plague it,

My eyes wept, and their tears resumed their flow,

with soreness, so it cannot have its fill of sleep.

With a traveler, but they cannot satisfy their grief,

عَلى صَخرٍ وَأَيُّ فَتىً كَصَخرٍ

عَلى صَخرٍ وَأَيُّ فَتىً كَصَخرٍ

إِذا ما النابُ لَم تَرأَم طِلاها

إِذا ما النابُ لَم تَرأَم طِلاها

Over Sakhr—and what young man was like Sakhr,

Upon a rock, and which gallant is as rock,

when the old she-camel would not cherish her calf?

When the spearheads cannot make it recoil,

فَتى الفِتيانِ ما بَلَغوا مَداهُ

فَتى الفِتيانِ ما بَلَغوا مَداهُ

وَلا يَكدى إِذا بَلَغَت كُداها

وَلا يَكدى إِذا بَلَغَت كُداها

The foremost of young men—none attained his reach,

The gallant of gallants, they have not reached his extent,

nor did his bounty fail when it met its stony barriers.

Nor does he weaken when he reaches his limit,

حَلَفتُ بِرَبِّ صُهبٍ مُعمِلاتٍ

حَلَفتُ بِرَبِّ صُهبٍ مُعمِلاتٍ

إِلى البَيتِ المُحَرَّمِ مُنتَهاها

إِلى البَيتِ المُحَرَّمِ مُنتَهاها

I swore by the Lord of tawny, hard-driven camels,

I swear by the Lord of lofty, working hills,

their journey ending at the Sacred House:

Heading to the Sacred House, their destination,

لَئِن جَزِعَت بَنو عَمروٍ عَلَيهِ

لَئِن جَزِعَت بَنو عَمروٍ عَلَيهِ

لَقَد رُزِئَت بَنو عَمروٍ فَتاها

لَقَد رُزِئَت بَنو عَمروٍ فَتاها

if the sons of Amr grieved over him,

If the clan of 'Amr mourns for him,

surely the sons of Amr were bereft of their young man.

The clan of 'Amr has surely lost their best man,

لَهُ كَفٌّ يُشَدُّ بِها وَكَفٌّ

لَهُ كَفٌّ يُشَدُّ بِها وَكَفٌّ

تَحَلَّبُ ما يَجِفُّ ثَرى نَداها

تَحَلَّبُ ما يَجِفُّ ثَرى نَداها

His was a hand that gave strength, and a hand

He has a palm with which he gives generously,

that flowed freely; the soil watered by its dew never dried.

And a palm from which flows what dries the soil of his munificence,

تَرى الشُمَّ الجَحاجِحَ مِن سُلَيمٍ

تَرى الشُمَّ الجَحاجِحَ مِن سُلَيمٍ

يَبُلُّ نَدى مَدامِعِها لِحاها

يَبُلُّ نَدى مَدامِعِها لِحاها

You see the lofty-nosed, mighty chiefs of Sulaym,

You see the Pleiades from Suleim,

the dew from their tearful eyes wetting their beards,

Shedding the dew of their tears for their departed loved one,

عَلى رَجُلٍ كَريمِ الخيمِ أَضحى

عَلى رَجُلٍ كَريمِ الخيمِ أَضحى

بِبَطنِ حَفيرَةٍ صَخِبٍ صَداها

بِبَطنِ حَفيرَةٍ صَخِبٍ صَداها

over a man of noble character, who now lies

For a noble man, the best protected of tents,

in the depths of a grave whose owl cries loudly.

Who lies in the belly of a resonant, echoing grave,

لِيَبكِ الخَيرَ صَخراً مِن مَعَدٍّ

لِيَبكِ الخَيرَ صَخراً مِن مَعَدٍّ

ذَوُو أَحلامِها وَذَوُو نُهاها

ذَوُو أَحلامِها وَذَوُو نُهاها

Let good Sakhr be mourned, among Ma‘add,

For the virtuous to weep, a rock from Ma'add,

by its men of sound judgment and its men of reason.

Those of dreams and those of resolve,

وَخَيلٍ قَد لَفَفتَ بِجَولِ خَيلٍ

وَخَيلٍ قَد لَفَفتَ بِجَولِ خَيلٍ

فَدارَت بَينَ كَبشَيها رَحاها

فَدارَت بَينَ كَبشَيها رَحاها

And many a troop of horse you entangled with a troop of horse,

And steeds that turned between its rams,

so its millstone turned between its two ram-like champions.

Circling in a band of steeds,

تُرَفِّعُ فَضلَ سابِغَةٍ دِلاصٍ

تُرَفِّعُ فَضلَ سابِغَةٍ دِلاصٍ

عَلى خَيفانَةٍ خَفِقٍ حَشاها

عَلى خَيفانَةٍ خَفِقٍ حَشاها

You hitch up the trailing hem of a smooth, full-length mail-coat,

Raising the favor of a long-necked, smooth-sided horse,

on a swift mare whose belly is lean.

Above a snorting, prancing horse with elegant gait,

وَتَسعى حينَ تَشتَجِرُ العَوالي

وَتَسعى حينَ تَشتَجِرُ العَوالي

بِكَأسِ المَوتِ ساعَةَ مُصطَلاها

بِكَأسِ المَوتِ ساعَةَ مُصطَلاها

And you hasten when the spearheads interlock,

And they race when the heights shake violently,

with death’s cup at the hour of battle’s blaze,

With the cup of death, at the appointed time of watering,

مُحافَظَةً وَمَحمِيَةً إِذا ما

مُحافَظَةً وَمَحمِيَةً إِذا ما

نَبا بِالقَومِ مِن جَزَعٍ لَظاها

نَبا بِالقَومِ مِن جَزَعٍ لَظاها

in defense of honor and with protective zeal, whenever

Guarding and protecting him when

its blaze drives the men back in terror.

The clan was alarmed with overwhelming sorrow,

فَتَترُكُها قَدِ اِضطَرَمَت بِطَعنٍ

فَتَترُكُها قَدِ اِضطَرَمَت بِطَعنٍ

تَضَمَّنَهُ إِذا اِختَلَفَت كُلاها

تَضَمَّنَهُ إِذا اِختَلَفَت كُلاها

Then you leave it already aflame with spear-thrusts,

Then leaving him when he was pierced with a stab,

which it held within when its flanks intermingled.

Containing death, when the two bands parted,

فَمَن لِلضَيفِ إِن هَبَّت شَمالٌ

فَمَن لِلضَيفِ إِن هَبَّت شَمالٌ

مُزَعزِعَةٌ تُجاوِبُها صَباها

مُزَعزِعَةٌ تُجاوِبُها صَباها

Who, then, will care for the guest if a north wind blows,

So who will host the guest if a north wind blows,

buffeting, with the east wind answering it,

Tempestuous, with answering winds from the south,

وَأَلجا بَردُها الأَشوالَ حُدباً

وَأَلجا بَردُها الأَشوالَ حُدباً

إِلى الحُجُراتِ بادِيَةً كُلاها

إِلى الحُجُراتِ بادِيَةً كُلاها

and its cold drives the dry she-camels, hunched,

And its cold makes the cooking pots cluster together

into the pens, the outlines of their kidneys showing?

Towards the dwellings, all apparent,

هُنالِكَ لَو نَزَلتَ بِآلِ صَخرٍ

هُنالِكَ لَو نَزَلتَ بِآلِ صَخرٍ

قِرى الأَضيافِ شَحماً مِن ذُراها

قِرى الأَضيافِ شَحماً مِن ذُراها

There, had you lodged with the household of Sakhr,

There, had you descended at the abode of the rock,

the guests’ fare would have been fat from their humps.

The guest’s cauldron, fat from its contents,

فَلَم أَملِك غَداةَ نَعِيِّ صَخرٍ

فَلَم أَملِك غَداةَ نَعِيِّ صَخرٍ

سَوابِقَ عَبرَةٍ حَلَبَت صَراها

سَوابِقَ عَبرَةٍ حَلَبَت صَراها

So I could not hold back, that morning of Sakhr’s death-news,

I could not control, the morning Sakhir’s death was announced,

the racing tears that milked their gathered store.

Preceding tears that melted from their ducts,

أَمُطعِمَكُم وَحامِلَكُم تَرَكتُم

أَمُطعِمَكُم وَحامِلَكُم تَرَكتُم

لَدى غَبراءَ مُنهَدِمٍ رَجاها

لَدى غَبراءَ مُنهَدِمٍ رَجاها

Have you abandoned the one who fed you and gave you mounts

Will you leave the one who fed you and carried you

beside a dust-grey grave whose edge has fallen in?

By a crumbling, ruined enclosure, its pillars gone?

لِيَبكِ عَلَيكَ قَومُكَ لِلمَعالي

لِيَبكِ عَلَيكَ قَومُكَ لِلمَعالي

وَلِلهَيجاءِ إِنَّكَ ما فَتاها

وَلِلهَيجاءِ إِنَّكَ ما فَتاها

Let your people mourn you for noble deeds,

Let your clan weep for your virtues,

and for battle, for you were indeed its champion.

And for turmoil―you did not lose your composure,

وَقَد فَقَدَتكَ طَلقَةُ فَاِستَراحَت

وَقَد فَقَدَتكَ طَلقَةُ فَاِستَراحَت

فَلَيتَ الخَيلَ فارِسُها يَراها

فَلَيتَ الخَيلَ فارِسُها يَراها

And Talqah has lost you and so has found rest;

Talqah lost you and so found peace,

and would that the horses’ rider could see them!

If only the steeds could see their rider!