ولقد مَرَرْتُ على المحدِّثِ مَرَّةً

ولقد مَرَرْتُ على المحدِّثِ مَرَّةً

وإذا بحَضرَتِه ظِباءٌ رُتَّعُ

وإذا بحَضرَتِه ظِباءٌ رُتَّعُ

And indeed, I once passed by the hadith scholar,

I passed by the narrator once,

And behold, gazelles were grazing at ease in his presence.

And in his company were gazelles grazing,

وإذا ظِباءُ الأُنْسِ تَكتُبُ كُلَّ ما

وإذا ظِباءُ الأُنْسِ تَكتُبُ كُلَّ ما

يُملي وتُثبِتُ ما يَقولُ وتَسمَعُ

يُملي وتُثبِتُ ما يَقولُ وتَسمَعُ

And behold, the companionable gazelles write all that

And the gazelles of companionship were writing down whatever

He dictates; they record what he says and listen.

He dictated, noting what he said and listening,

يَتجاذَبونَ الحِبرَ من مَلمومَةٍ

يَتجاذَبونَ الحِبرَ من مَلمومَةٍ

بَيضاءَ تَحْمِلُها عَلائِقُ أَربَعُ

بَيضاءَ تَحْمِلُها عَلائِقُ أَربَعُ

They vie to draw ink from a rounded inkwell,

Exchanging the ink from a white shell,

White, suspended by four cords,

Carried by four carriers,

من خالِصِ البَلُّورِ غُبِّرَ لَونُه

من خالِصِ البَلُّورِ غُبِّرَ لَونُه

فكأنَّه سَبَجٌ يَلوحُ ويَلمَعُ

فكأنَّه سَبَجٌ يَلوحُ ويَلمَعُ

Of pure crystal whose hue has been darkened,

Whose pure crystal color was dusty,

So it looks like jet, glimmering and shining.

As if it were mercury flashing and gleaming,

إن نَكَّسُوها لم تَسَلْ فَمليكُها

إن نَكَّسُوها لم تَسَلْ فَمليكُها

فيما حَوَتْهُ عاجلاً لا يَطْمَعُ

فيما حَوَتْهُ عاجلاً لا يَطْمَعُ

If they turn it upside down, it does not spill; so its owner

If they overturned it, its source would not flow,

Has no hope of immediately obtaining what it holds.

Not coveting what it contained, hastening not,

ومتَى أمالوها لِرَشْفِ رُضابِها

ومتَى أمالوها لِرَشْفِ رُضابِها

أداَّهُ فُوها وهي لا تَتَمنَّعُ

أداَّهُ فُوها وهي لا تَتَمنَّعُ

And whenever they tilt it to sip its sweet saliva,

And when they tilted it to wet its spout,

Its mouth yields it, and it offers no resistance.

It gave forth from its mouth, not resisting,

فكأنَّه قَلبي يَضَنّ بسِرِّهِ

فكأنَّه قَلبي يَضَنّ بسِرِّهِ

أبدا ويَكتُمُ كُلَّ ما يُستَودَعُ

أبدا ويَكتُمُ كُلَّ ما يُستَودَعُ

So it is like my heart, jealously guarding its secret

As if it were my heart, hoarding its secret,

Forever, and concealing all that is entrusted to it.

Ever concealing all that was entrusted,

يمتاحها ماضي الشباة مذلق

يمتاحها ماضي الشباة مذلق

يجري بميدان الطروس فيسرع

يجري بميدان الطروس فيسرع

A keen-tipped, sharpened pen draws from it,

Availing itself of the freshness of youth,

Running across the field of pages and speeding on.

Flowing in the field of delight, speeding,

رِجلاهُ رَأسٌ عِندَها لكنَّه

رِجلاهُ رَأسٌ عِندَها لكنَّه

يُلْفَى وبَرْءُ حَفَاهُ ساعةَ يُقطَعُ

يُلْفَى وبَرْءُ حَفَاهُ ساعةَ يُقطَعُ

Its two feet serve as a head at the inkwell; yet it

Its legs a head to it, but it is rolled up,

Is found with its foot-soreness cured the moment it is cut.

And the innocence of its covering is severed at times,

وكأنَّهُ والحِبرُ يَخضِبُ رَأسَه

وكأنَّهُ والحِبرُ يَخضِبُ رَأسَه

شَيخٌ لِوَصْلِ خَريدةٍ يَتَصَنَّعُ

شَيخٌ لِوَصْلِ خَريدةٍ يَتَصَنَّعُ

And, as ink dyes its head, it is like

As if it and the ink dye its head,

An old man primping for a maiden's embrace.

An old man pretending affinity to gain a maiden,

لِمَ لا ألاحِظُهُ بِعَيْنِ جَلالَةٍ

لِمَ لا ألاحِظُهُ بِعَيْنِ جَلالَةٍ

وبه إلى اللهِ الصَّحائِفُ تُرفِعُ

وبه إلى اللهِ الصَّحائِفُ تُرفِعُ

Why should I not regard it with an eye of reverence,

Why do I not look upon it with majestic eyes,

When through it the pages are raised to God?

And through it the scrolls are raised to God?