وَنَفحَةٍ مِن رُبا ذي الأَثلِ قابَلَني

وَنَفحَةٍ مِن رُبا ذي الأَثلِ قابَلَني

بِها نَسيمٌ يُزيرُ القَلبَ أَحزانا

بِها نَسيمٌ يُزيرُ القَلبَ أَحزانا

And with a waft from the hills of Dhu al-Athl, I was met

A breeze from the fragrant abode greeted me,

by a breeze that brings sorrows to visit the heart.

Bringing a gentle wind that soothes the heart of its sorrows.

وَلَم يَطِب تُربُها مِن رَوضَةٍ أُنُفٍ

وَلَم يَطِب تُربُها مِن رَوضَةٍ أُنُفٍ

فَهاجَ رَيّاهُ أَطراباً وَأَشجانا

فَهاجَ رَيّاهُ أَطراباً وَأَشجانا

It was not an ungrazed meadow that made its soil fragrant

Yet its soil was not sweetened by any delicate garden,

and stirred raptures and sorrows through its scent;

So its downpour raged, arousing tumult and passions.

لكنَّ ذا الأَثْلِ طابَ الواديانِ بِهِ

لكنَّ ذا الأَثْلِ طابَ الواديانِ بِهِ

حَيثُ الرَّبابُ تَجُرُّ الذَّيلَ أَحيانا

حَيثُ الرَّبابُ تَجُرُّ الذَّيلَ أَحيانا

but in Dhu al-Athl the two valleys grew sweet,

But this fragrance made the valleys delightful,

where al-Rabab sometimes trails her hem.

Where the rabab trails its skirt at times.

وَلَم يَكُن لِيَ أَطرافُ الحِمى وَطَناً

وَلَم يَكُن لِيَ أَطرافُ الحِمى وَطَناً

وَلا الفوارِسُ مِن نَبهانَ جيرانا

وَلا الفوارِسُ مِن نَبهانَ جيرانا

And the outskirts of the protected pasture were no homeland to me,

The frontiers of the sanctuary were not my homeland,

nor were the horsemen of Nabhan my neighbors.

Nor were the horsemen of Najd my neighbors.

فَلَم يَزَل بي هَوى طائيَّةٍ عَلِقاً

فَلَم يَزَل بي هَوى طائيَّةٍ عَلِقاً

حَتَّى اِستَفَدتُ بِهِ أَهلاً وَأَوطانا

حَتَّى اِستَفَدتُ بِهِ أَهلاً وَأَوطانا

So love for a woman of Tayy never ceased to cling to me,

So passionate love for Tâ’iya clung to me

until through it I gained kin and homelands.

Until through it I gained family and home.

نَجلاءُ إِن نَظَرَتْ قالَتْ بَنو ثُعَلٍ

نَجلاءُ إِن نَظَرَتْ قالَتْ بَنو ثُعَلٍ

عَيناكِ يابْنَةَ ذي البُردَينِ أَرمانا

عَيناكِ يابْنَةَ ذي البُردَينِ أَرمانا

Wide-eyed—if she gazes, the sons of Thuʿal say:

Beautiful Najlâ’, if she looked, would say,

"Your eyes, daughter of Dhu al-Burdayn—the wearer of two cloaks—are our finest archers."

“O son of Dhi’l-Burdain, your eyes are quiet pools.”

تَمشي رُوَيداً فَلَو نامَ الثَّرى وَمَشَتْ

تَمشي رُوَيداً فَلَو نامَ الثَّرى وَمَشَتْ

عَلَيهِ لَم يَعُدِ الوَسنانُ يَقظانا

عَلَيهِ لَم يَعُدِ الوَسنانُ يَقظانا

She walks gently; if the soil slept and she walked

She walks slowly. If the ground slept and she tread on it,

upon it, the slumberer would not wake.

The peach trees would not awaken.

في خُرّدٍ عُرُبٍ أَكفالُها رُجُحٌ

في خُرّدٍ عُرُبٍ أَكفالُها رُجُحٌ

هِيفٍ حَمَلنَ عَلى الكُثبانِ أَغصانا

هِيفٍ حَمَلنَ عَلى الكُثبانِ أَغصانا

Among shy, amorous maidens with heavy haunches,

On rutting camels, their young ones unsteady,

slender-waisted, bearing branches atop sand dunes.

Lofty, they carried branches over the sand dunes.

وَمِن مَخافَةِ بَينٍ كُنتُ أَحذَرُهُ

وَمِن مَخافَةِ بَينٍ كُنتُ أَحذَرُهُ

لَم أَذكُرِ القَدَّ كَي لا أَذكُرَ البانا

لَم أَذكُرِ القَدَّ كَي لا أَذكُرَ البانا

And for fear of a parting I had been dreading,

Fearing the evil of some clans, I was wary of them,

I did not mention her stature, lest I mention the bān trees.

Not mentioning the past, so I would not yearn for the bygone days.

فَهَل تَرى يا هُذَيمُ العِيسَ غاديَةً

فَهَل تَرى يا هُذَيمُ العِيسَ غاديَةً

أَم لا فَقَد آنَسَت عَينايَ أَظعانا

أَم لا فَقَد آنَسَت عَينايَ أَظعانا

So do you see, O Hudhaym, the pale camels setting out in the morning,

Do you see, O Hudhaifa, the ‘Is caravan passing

or not? For my eyes have caught sight of departing litters.

Or is it not? My eyes have glimpsed ghostly forms.

فيهِنَّ قَلبي وَعِندَ المُنحَنى بَدَني

فيهِنَّ قَلبي وَعِندَ المُنحَنى بَدَني

فارحَمقُلوباً إِذا فارَقنَ أَبدانا

فارحَمقُلوباً إِذا فارَقنَ أَبدانا

My heart is in them, and my body at the bend;

In them is my heart, and at the curved road is my body.

so have mercy on hearts when they part from bodies.

Have mercy on hearts when they part from bodies!

فَرَقَّ لي وَبَكى حَتّى بَكَت إِبِلِي

فَرَقَّ لي وَبَكى حَتّى بَكَت إِبِلِي

رِفقاً هُذَيمُ فَقَد أَدميتَ أَجفانا

رِفقاً هُذَيمُ فَقَد أَدميتَ أَجفانا

So he took pity on me and wept until my camels wept.

He bade me farewell and wept until my camels wept,

Gently, Hudhaym, for you have made eyelids bleed.

Gently, Hudhaifa! You have made my eyelids run.

لا أَنتَ تُعجِبُنا يا نَجدُ بَعدَهُمُ

لا أَنتَ تُعجِبُنا يا نَجدُ بَعدَهُمُ

وَلا لَنا بالحِمى عَيشٌ كَما كانا

وَلا لَنا بالحِمى عَيشٌ كَما كانا

No, you do not delight us, O Najd, now that they are gone,

Neither you nor highland living delight us now after them.

nor is life for us in the protected pasture as it once was.

The sanctuary no longer has the life it used to have.