أَلا بِأَبي بِذي الأَثلاتِ رَبعٌ

أَلا بِأَبي بِذي الأَثلاتِ رَبعٌ

سَقى طَلَلَيهِ مَحجَريَ الرَويُّ

سَقى طَلَلَيهِ مَحجَريَ الرَويُّ

Ah, may my father ransom an abode at Dhu al-Athlat,

By him whose resting place formed three hillocks -

whose two ruined remnants my tear-brimming eye watered.

A spring which quenched the thirst of his two sand hills -

لَطَمتُ إِلَيهِ خَدَّ الأَرضِ حَتّى

لَطَمتُ إِلَيهِ خَدَّ الأَرضِ حَتّى

تَراخَت في أَزِمَّتِها المَطيُّ

تَراخَت في أَزِمَّتِها المَطيُّ

I struck the earth’s cheek on my way to it, until

I dashed against the cheek of the earth until

the riding camels grew slack in their reins.

The reins slackened in their pressing haste -

فَذَمَّ تَعاقُبَ العَصرَينِ رَسمٌ

فَذَمَّ تَعاقُبَ العَصرَينِ رَسمٌ

يَلوحُ كَأَنَّهُ وَشمٌ خَفيُّ

يَلوحُ كَأَنَّهُ وَشمٌ خَفيُّ

Then a ruined trace reproached the succession of night and day,

An enduring imprint which appeared

appearing like a faint tattoo.

Like a faint tattoo -

وَقَد نارَ الرَّبيعُ بِهِ وَأَسدَى

وَقَد نارَ الرَّبيعُ بِهِ وَأَسدَى

كَما نَشَرَت غَلائِلَها الهَديُّ

كَما نَشَرَت غَلائِلَها الهَديُّ

And spring had blossomed there and laid its warp,

And which spring set aflame and kindled

as a bride spread out her gauzy robes.

As she unloosed her dishevelled tresses -

وَكادَ رُباهُ تَرفُلُ في رِداءٍ

وَكادَ رُباهُ تَرفُلُ في رِداءٍ

مِنَ النُّوَّارِ فَوَّفَهُ الحَبِيُّ

مِنَ النُّوَّارِ فَوَّفَهُ الحَبِيُّ

And its hills almost strutted in a mantle

Her pastor well-nigh clothed in a robe

of blossoms striped by the piled rain cloud.

Of dew the ascetic wove for him -

مَحَلٌّ لِلكَواعِبِ فيهِ مَغنىً

مَحَلٌّ لِلكَواعِبِ فيهِ مَغنىً

أَطابَ تُرابَهُ المِرْطُ اليَديُّ

أَطابَ تُرابَهُ المِرْطُ اليَديُّ

A place for budding maidens, with a dwelling within,

A haunt of slender-waisted damsels where is heard

whose soil the ample mantle made sweet.

The gentle croon of the lute -

إِذا خَطَرَتْ بِهِ نَمَّتْ عَلَيها

إِذا خَطَرَتْ بِهِ نَمَّتْ عَلَيها

رياحُ التُّبَتِيَّةِ وَالحُلِيُّ

رياحُ التُّبَتِيَّةِ وَالحُلِيُّ

Whenever she swayed there, she was betrayed

When the breezes of Tabut breathed o’er it

by the scents of Tibetan musk and her jewelry.

And the airs from Hulayy -

فَلا أَدري أَلاحَ قُلوبُ طيرٍ

فَلا أَدري أَلاحَ قُلوبُ طيرٍ

عَلى اللَّبّاتِ مِنها أَم ثُدِيُّ

عَلى اللَّبّاتِ مِنها أَم ثُدِيُّ

So I cannot tell: was it birds’ hearts that appeared

I know not if the hearts of birds

upon her bosom, or breasts?

Were drawn to its berries or its breast -

ذَكَرتُ بِهِ سُلَيمَى فاِستَهَلَّتْ

ذَكَرتُ بِهِ سُلَيمَى فاِستَهَلَّتْ

دَموعٌ بِالنِّجادِ لَها أَتشيُّ

دَموعٌ بِالنِّجادِ لَها أَتشيُّ

There I remembered Sulayma; then poured forth

I recalled there Sulayma and tears streamed

tears rushing over my sword-belt.

Down my cheeks in torrents for her sake -

يَروضُ شِماسَها شَوقي فَذَلَّتْ

يَروضُ شِماسَها شَوقي فَذَلَّتْ

لَهُ وَأَطاعَهُ الدَّمعُ العَصِيُّ

لَهُ وَأَطاعَهُ الدَّمعُ العَصِيُّ

My longing tamed their unruliness, and they yielded

My passion grazed her cheek and so overcome

to it; the rebellious tears obeyed it.

Was she that tears rebelled against her -

وَها أَنا في الخُطوبِ بِهِ شَحيحٌ

وَها أَنا في الخُطوبِ بِهِ شَحيحٌ

وَلكنْ في الغَرامِ بِهِ سَخِيُّ

وَلكنْ في الغَرامِ بِهِ سَخِيُّ

And here I am, miserly with tears amid calamities,

And here am I, miserly in my love

but lavish with them in love.

Yet bountiful in passion for it -

وَأَسعَدَني عَلَيهِ مِن قُرَيشٍ

وَأَسعَدَني عَلَيهِ مِن قُرَيشٍ

طَويلُ الباعِ أَبيَضُ عَبشَمِيُّ

طَويلُ الباعِ أَبيَضُ عَبشَمِيُّ

And one of Quraysh joined me in mourning over it:

And the tall, white, perfumed Qurashi

long of reach, fair, an Abd-Shams clansman.

Brought me greater joy than any other -

فَظَلَّ يُعِيرُنِي دَمعاً لِقاحاً

فَظَلَّ يُعِيرُنِي دَمعاً لِقاحاً

تَلَقَّى صَوبَهُ وَجهٌ حَبِيُّ

تَلَقَّى صَوبَهُ وَجهٌ حَبِيُّ

So he kept lending me fertile tears,

And he continued to taunt me with copious tears

whose downpour a cloudlike face received.

Met by a loving face -

وَحَسبُكَ مِن بُكاءٍ أَنَّ طَرفِي

وَحَسبُكَ مِن بُكاءٍ أَنَّ طَرفِي

رأَى عَبَراتِهِ فَبَكَى الخَلِيُّ

رأَى عَبَراتِهِ فَبَكَى الخَلِيُّ

And this should tell you enough of that weeping: my eye

And your weeping is enough; my eyes

saw his tears, and even the untroubled wept.

Saw those tears and the hermit wept -