ألا أم عمرو أجمعت فاستقلت — Al Shanfari

أَلا أَمُّ عَمرو أَجمَعَت فَاِستَقَلَّتِ

وَما وَدَّعَت جيرانَها إِذ تَوَلَّتِ

Behold, Umm ʿAmr resolved, then departed,

and bade her neighbors no farewell as she turned away.

وَقَد سَبَقَتنا أُمُّ عَمرو بِأَمرِها

وَكَانَت بِأَعناقِ المَطِيَّ أَظَلَّتِ

Umm ʿAmr had already forestalled us with her decision,

and had cast her shadow over the riding camels' necks.

بِعَينَيَّ ما أَمسَت فَباتَت فَأَصبحَتَ

فَقَضَّت أُموراً فَاِستَقَلَّت فَوَلَّتِ

Before my very eyes she passed evening, then night, then morning,

settled her affairs, set off, and turned away.

فَوَا كَبِدا عَلى أُمَيمَةَ بَعدَما

طَمِعتُ فَهَبها نِعمَةَ العَيشِ زَلَّتِ

Ah, the pain in my liver for Umayma, after

I had hoped—count her a blessing of life that slipped away.

فَيا جارَتي وَأَنتِ غَيرُ مُليمَةٍ

إِذ ذُكِرتُ وَلا بِذاتِ تَقَلَّتِ

O my neighbor, you are not blameworthy,

when I am mentioned, nor given to disdain.

لَقَد أَعجَبَتني لا سَقوطاً قِناعُها

إِذا ما مَشَت وَلا بِذاتِ تَلَفُّتِ

She truly delighted me: her veil never slips

when she walks, nor does she keep glancing about.

تَبيتُ بُعَيدَ النَومِ تُهدي غَبوقَها

لِجارَتِها إِذا الهَدِيَّةُ قَلَّتِ

Soon after bedtime, she spends the night sending her evening milk

to her neighbor, when gifts are scarce.

تَحُلُّ بِمَنجاةٍ مِنَ اللَومِ بَيتَها

إِذا ما بُيوتٌ بِالمَذَمَّةِ حُلَّتِ

She pitches her tent beyond the reach of blame,

when other tents are pitched amid disgrace.

كَأَنَّ لَها في الأَرضِ نِسياً تَقُصُّهُ

عَلى أَمَّها وَإِن تُكَلَّمكَ تَبلَتِ

As though she were tracing something lost upon the ground,

along her chosen path; if she speaks to you, she keeps it brief.

أُمَيمَةُ لا يُخزى نَثاها حَليلَها

إِذا ذُكَرِ النِسوانُ عَفَّت وَجَلَّتِ

Umayma's reputation does not disgrace her husband;

when women are mentioned, she stands chaste and honored.

إِذا هُوَ أَمسى آبَ قُرَّةَ عَينِهِ

مَآبَ السَعيدِ لَم يَسَل أَينَ ظَلَّتِ

At evening he returns, his eyes cooled with joy,

as a happy man returns, never asking where she spent the day.

فَدَقَّت وَجَلَّت وَاِسبَكَرَّت وَأُكمِلَت

فَلَو جُنَّ إِنسانٌ مِنَ الحُسنِ جُنَّتِ

Delicate yet full-formed, tall and perfectly fashioned,

if beauty could drive a person mad, she would have gone mad.

فَبِتنا كَأَنَّ البَيتَ حُجَّرَ فَوقَنا

بِرَيحانَةٍ ريحَت عِشاءً وَطَلَّتِ

We spent the night as though the tent were enclosed above us

with a fragrant plant, fanned by evening winds and wet with dew,

بِرَيحانَةٍ مِن بَطنِ حَليَةَ نَوَّرَت

لَها أَرَجٌ ما حَولَها غَيرُ مُسنِتِ

with a fragrant plant from Ḥalya's valley floor, in bloom;

it has a fragrance, and all around it is untouched by drought.

وَباضِعَةٍ حُمرِ القِسِيَّ بَعَثتُها

وَمَن يَغزُ يَغنَم مَرَّةً وَيُشَمَّتِ

And a band bearing red bows I sent forth;

whoever raids wins booty once, and suffers others' gloating.

خَرَجنا مِنَ الوادي الَّذي بَينَ مِشعَلٍ

وَبَينَ الجَبا هَيهاتَ أَنشَأتُ سُرَبتي

We left the valley that lies between Mishʿal

and al-Jabā; far afield I set my band in motion.

أُمَشّي عَلى الأَرضِ الَّتي لَن تَضُرَّني

لِأَنكِيَ قَوماً أَو أُصادِفَ حُمَّتي

I march over land that will never harm me,

to wreak harm upon a people, or encounter my doom.

أُمَشّي عَلى أَينِ الغَزاةِ وَبُعدَها

يُقَرَّبُني مِنها رَواحي وَغُدوَتي

I march despite the raid's fatigue and distance;

my evening and morning journeys bring me closer to it.

وَأُمَّ عِيالٍ قَد شَهِدتُ تَقوتُهُم

إِذا أَطعَمَتهُم أَوتَحَت وَأَقَلَّتِ

And a mother of dependents I have seen feeding them:

when she feeds them, she offers scant fare and little of it.

تَخافُ عَلَينا العَيلَ إِن هِيَ أَكثَرَت

وَنَحنُ جِياعٌ أَيَّ آلٍ تَأَلَّتِ

She fears destitution for us if she gives too much,

while we are hungry—what an oath she has sworn!

وَما إِن بِها ضِنُّ بِما في وِعائِها

وَلَكِنَّها مِن خيفَةِ الجوعِ أَبقَتِ

There is no stinginess in her over what her vessel holds,

but fear of hunger makes her keep some back.

مُصَعِلكَةٌ لا يَقصُرُ السِترُ دونَها

وَلا تُرتَجى لِلبَيتِ إِن لَم تُبَيَّتِ

An impoverished wanderer, whom no curtain confines,

nor expected at home unless attacked by night.

لَها وَفضَةٌ مِنها ثَلاثونَ سَيحَفاً

إِذا آنَسَت أولى العَدِيَّ اقشَعَرَّتِ

She has a quiver holding thirty broad-bladed arrows;

at sight of the enemy's vanguard, she bristles.

وَتَأتي العَدِيَّ بارِزاً نِصفُ ساقِها

تَجولُ كَعَيرِ العانَةِ المُتَلَفَّتِ

She comes at the enemy with half her shin laid bare,

wheeling like the herd's wild-ass stallion, glancing about.

إِذا فَزِعوا طارَت بِأَبيَضَ صارِمٍ

وَرامَت بِما في جَفرِها ثُمَّ سَلَّتِ

When they take fright, she flies with a gleaming, keen-edged sword,

shoots what her quiver holds, then draws her blade:

حُسامٌ كَلَونِ المِلح صافٍ حَديدُهُ

جُرازٍ كَأَقطاع الغَدير المُنَعَّتِ

a keen sword, salt-colored, with unclouded steel,

a cleaver like stretches of a much-praised pool.

تَراها أمامَ الحَيِّ حينَ تَشايَحوا

لدى مَنكِبَيها كُلُّ أبيَضَ مُصلِتِ

You see her ahead of the tribe when they brace for battle,

every gleaming sword unsheathed beside her shoulders.

تَراها كَأَذنابِ الحَسيلِ صَوادِراً

وَقَد نَهِلَت مِنَ الدِماءِ وَعَلَّتِ

You see them like calves' tails, returning from water,

having drunk once of blood, then drunk again.

قَتَلنا قَتيلاً مُهدِياً بِمُلَبَّدٍ

جِمارَ مِنًى وَسطَ الحَجيج المُصَوَّتِ

We slew a man, for a matted-haired man, as he headed toward

Minā's stoning-places, amid the clamorous pilgrims.

فَإِن تُقبِلوا تُقبِل بِمَن نيلَ مِنهُمُ

وَإِن تُدبِروا فَأُمُّ مَن نيلَ فَيأتِ

If you advance, advance with those of them who suffered loss;

and if you retreat, let the slain man's mother come.

جَزَينا سَلامانَ بنَ مُفرِجَ قَرضَها

بِما قَدَّمَت أَيديهِمُ وَأَزَلَّتِ

We repaid Salāmān son of Mufrij its loan,

for what their hands had sent forth and the harm they had caused.

وَهُنَّئَ بي قَومٌ وَما إِن هَنَأتُهُم

وَأَصبَحتُ في قَومٍ وَلَيسوا بِمُنيَتي

A people were congratulated on me, yet I brought them no joy;

I found myself among a people not of my choosing.

شَفَينا بِعَبدِ اللَهِ بَعضَ غَليلِنا

وَعَوفٍ لَدى المَعدى أَوانَ اِستَهَلَّتِ

Through ʿAbd Allāh we quenched part of our burning thirst,

and ʿAwf, at the onslaught, when it broke out.

إِذا ما أَتَتني مِيتَتي لَم أُبالِها

وَلَم تُذرِ خالاتي الدُموعَ وَعَمَّتي

When my death comes to me, I shall not heed it,

nor shall my maternal aunts or my paternal aunt shed tears.

وَلَو لَم أَرِم في أَهلِ بَيتي قاعِداً

إِذَن جاءَني بَينَ العَمودَين حُمَّتي

Even if I never stirred, sitting among my household,

my doom would find me between the two tent-poles.

أَلا لا تَعُدني إِن تَشَكَّيتُ خُلَّتي

شَفاني بِأَعلى ذي البُرَيقَين غَدَوتي

Take heed: do not visit me if I complain of want;

my morning venture in upper Dhū al-Burayqayn cured me.

وَإنّي لَحُلوٌ إِن أُرِيَدت حَلاوَتي

وَمُرٌّ إِذا نَفسُ العَزوفِ استَمَرَّتِ

I am indeed sweet if my sweetness is sought,

and bitter when the disdainful soul turns bitter.

أَبيٌّ لِما آبي سَريعٌ مَباءَتي

إِلى كُلَّ نَفسٍ تَنتَحي في مَسَرَّتي

Unyielding in what I refuse, swift is my return

to every soul intent upon my happiness.