بروم السيوف وغرب الرماح — Alsharif Alradi

بِرومِ السُيوفِ وَغَربِ الرِماحِ

عَقَدنا لِواءَ العُلى وَالسَماحِ

By the striving of swords and the points of spears,

we fastened the banner of glory and generosity.

وَكُلِّ غُلامٍ حَيِيِّ اللِحاظِ

يَلقى الطِعانَ بِرُمحٍ وَقاحِ

And with every youth of bashful gaze,

who faces lance-combat with a brazen spear.

إِذا مُطِلَ الثَارُ جَرَّ القَنا

نَشاوى تَقاضى صُدورَ الصَفاحِ

When vengeance is deferred, he drags the lances,

drunken, claiming their due from the breasts of broad blades.

فَأَغمَدَها في اِحمِرارِ الشَقي

قِ وَجَرَّدَها في بَياضِ الأَقاحِ

Then he sheathes them in the anemones' redness,

and draws them in the daisies' whiteness.

بِكُلِّ فَلاةٍ تَقودُ الجِيادَ

تَعثُرُ فيهِا بِبيضِ الأَداحي

Through every wilderness, leading the steeds

that stumble there over eggs in ostrich nests,

فَيُلجِمُ أَعناقَها بِالجِبالِ

وَيُنعِلُ أَرساغَها بِالبِطاحِ

he bridles their necks with mountains

and shoes their fetlocks with pebbly plains.

وَأَشقَرَ يَسرِقُ صِبغَ المُدا

مِ أَنهَبتُ جِلدَتَهُ لِلسِلاحِ

And a chestnut steed that steals the hue of wine—

I gave his hide to weapons as spoil.

إِذا يابِسُ الماءِ بَلَّ الحِزامَ

طارَت بِهِ غُلواءُ المِراحِ

When dry water wets the girth,

the frenzy of frolicking carries him aloft.

تَجولُ القُرونُ بِأَعطافِهِ

مَجالَ الفَواقِعِ في كاسِ راحِ

Rivals wheel about his flanks

as bubbles circle in a cup of wine.

يَشُقُّ الظَلامَ بِسَيفِ الضُحى

وَيَرمي الغُدُوَّ بِسَهمِ الرَواحِ

He cleaves darkness with the sword of forenoon,

and shoots the morning with the arrow of evening.

فَيا راكِبَ العَجزِ مُرخي العِنانِ

لِلذُلِّ يَخبِطُ وَالعِزُّ ضاحِ

So, O rider of helplessness, loosening the reins

to abasement, floundering while honor shines clear!

تَقاضَ المَطالِبَ وَاِستَنبِطِ ال

رَجاءَ وَنَبَّه عُيونَ النَجاحِ

Press your claims, and draw forth

hope, and awaken the eyes of success.

فَلولا المَطامِعُ تَحدو الطُلابَ

لَما خَفَقَت قادِماتُ الجَناحِ

Were ambitions not to spur seekers onward,

the wing's leading feathers would never beat.

وَما العَيشُ عِندي إِلا الإِباءُ

وَبُعدي عَنِ المَنزِلِ المُستَباحِ

To me, life is nothing but proud refusal,

and keeping far from a dwelling open to violation.

أُحِبُّ الخِيامَ وَسُكّانَها

وَأَحسُدُ كُلَّ بَعيدِ المَراحِ

I love the tents and their inhabitants,

and envy every man whose camping ground lies far away.

وَأَغبِطُ كُلَّ فَتىً لا يَزالُ

عِبئاً عَلى الزاعِباتِ القِماحِ

And I envy without malice every youth who remains

a burden upon the long, upraised lances,

يُخاطِرُ فيها بِعَقزِ السَوامِ

وَيَشرَبُ مِنها لِبانَ اللَقاحِ

risking himself with them in hamstringing grazing herds,

and drinking from them the milk of milch-camels.

طُروبُ المَسامِعِ أَينَ اِستَقَلَّ

صَهيلُ الجِيادِ وَجَرسُ النُباحِ

His ears thrill wherever there rises

the neighing of steeds and the sound of barking.

وَمَن لي بِأَن أَتَلافى الخُطو

بَ إِن نافَرَتني صُدورُ الرِماحِ

And who will assure me that I can avert calamities

if the breasts of spears turn against me?

وَمَن لي بِتَقبيلِ كَفِّ الزَما

نِ مِن قَبلِ تَوقيعِها بِاِطِّراحي

And who will grant me a kiss of Time's hand

before it signs my dismissal?

كَبا الدَهرُ بَيني وَبَينَ المُنى

وَطالَ بِزَندِ الرَجاءِ اِقتِداحي

Time has stumbled between me and my desires,

and long have I struck sparks from hope's fire-stick.

أَرى الحِلمَ يَطوي سِبابَ الرِجالِ

وَالجَهلَ يَنشُرُهُ في التَلاحي

I see forbearance fold away men's insults,

and folly unfold them in wrangling.

فَيُحسَبُ عَيّاً سُكوتُ الحَليمِ

وَيُعطى السَفيهُ حُظوظَ الفِصاحِ

The forbearing man's silence is thus counted as inarticulacy,

while the fool receives the eloquent men's rewards.

أُكاشِرُ أَبناءَ هَذا الزَمانِ

وَأَهزَأَ مِن نُبلِهِم بِاِمتِداحي

I grin at the sons of this age,

and mock their nobility by praising them.

فَبَينَ البَواطِنِ حَلُّ الطَلاقِ

وَبَينَ الظَواهِرِ عَقدُ النِكاحِ

Between our inward selves lies divorce's severance,

and between our outward selves, marriage's bond.

وَإِنِّ لَأَحفَظُ غَيبَ الخَليلِ

إِن ضاعَ وَاِستَلتَبَتهُ اللَواحي

And I surely keep faith with a friend in his absence,

if he is lost and reproachers have ensnared him.

وَإِنّي لَأَقصِفُ بَطشَ الفَتى

وَلَو رَدَّ باعَ القَضاءِ المُتاحِ

And I surely shatter a young man's violence,

even if he could repel the reach of allotted fate.

تَكَدُّرُ دونِ نِطافُ الكَلامِ

وَأَصقُلُها بِالبَيانِ الصُراحِ

The drops of speech grow turbid before me,

and I polish them with clear eloquence.

أُدافِعُ بالجِدِّ عَن غايَةٍ

وَلَو شِئتُ بُلِّغتُها بِالمُزاحِ

I strive in earnest for a goal,

though, if I wished, I could be brought to it by jesting.

أُراني سَيُخلِقُ عُمري الزَمانَ

وَكُلُّ ظَلامٍ جَديدِ الصَباحِ

I see my lifetime wearing Time out,

and every darkness has a fresh morning.

زَجَرتُ السُرورَ فَما يُجتَنى

بِغَيرِ العُلى طَلَبي وَاِرتِياحي

I have rebuffed joy; there is no harvest

of my desire and delight except through glory.

فَبِاللَهِ يا نَشَواتِ الشَمولِ

عودي إِلى نَفَحاتِ الرِياحِ

So, by God, O raptures of wine,

return to the breaths of the winds,

وَصوني عَنِ السُكرِ مَن لا يَزالُ

يُنَدّي المُدامَ بِماءِ القَراحِ

and shield from drunkenness one who ever

tempers the wine with pure water.

أَعافُ اِبنَةَ الكَرمِ لا اِبنَ الغَما

مِ بَينَ غَبوقي وَبَينَ اِصطِباحي

I shun the daughter of the vine, not the son of the clouds,

between my evening draught and my morning draught.

يَمُرُّ الغِناءُ فَيَعتاقُني

وَعِشقُ الحُروبِ ثَنى مِن جِماحي

Song passes by and detains me,

and love of wars has curbed my unruliness.

وَلَو لَم أُغَنِّ بِذِكرِ السُيوفِ

لَقَلَّ عَلى اَلنَغَماتِ اِرتِياحي

And had I not sung of swords—

my delight in melodies would have been slight—

وَسَمراءَ تَرشُفُ ظَلمَ القُلو

بِ قَذّافَةٍ بِالنَجيعِ المُباحِ

and of a tawny lance that sips the dew of hearts,

hurling forth blood lawfully shed.

تُطارِدُ في كُلِّ مَلمومَةٍ

مُنَطَّقَةٍ بِالعَوالي رَداحِ

It jousts within every massed host,

vast and girdled with lofty lances.

تُريقُ عَليها كُؤوسَ الدَما

ءِ بِالطَعنِ وَالمَوتُ نَشوانُ صاحِ

It pours upon it cups of blood

with thrusting, while Death is drunken yet sober.

فَنَخضِبُ فيها جِباهَ الظُبى

وَنُرمِدُ فيها عُيونَ الجِراحِ

So there we dye the brows of blades,

and inflame the eyes of wounds.

كَأَنّا نَرى الضَربَ نَحرَ السَوامِ

وَنَحتَسِبُ الطَعنَ ضَربَ الصِفاحِ

As though we saw striking as slaughtering grazing herds,

and reckoned spear-thrusts as blows upon flat stones.

فَمَن ذا أُسامي وَجَدّي النَبِيُّ

أَم مَن أُطاوِلُ أَم مَن أُلاحي

Whom, then, can I rival in rank, when my grandfather is the Prophet?

Or whom vie with in stature, or whom contend with?

أَنا اِبنُ الأَئِمَّةِ وَالنازِلَينَ

كُلَّ مَنيعِ الرُبى وَالبَراحِ

I am the son of the imams and of those who settle

every impregnable height and open plain,

وَأَيدٍ تُصافِحُ أَيدي الكِرامِ

وَإِن نَفَرَت مِن أَكَفَّ الشِحاحِ

and of hands that shake the hands of the noble,

though they recoil from misers' palms.

إِذا اِستُصرِخوا عَصَفوا بِالصَبا

حِ بَينَ الظُبى وَالوُجوهِ الصِباحِ

When called for aid, they storm upon the morning

amid blades and radiant faces.

وَسالوا إِلى الطَعنِ سَيلَ القَنا

وَمالوا عَلى الضَربِ مَيلَ الصِفاحِ

And they surge toward spear-thrusting like a surge of lances,

and lean into striking as broad blades incline.

نَشَرنا عَلى عَذَباتِ الرِيا

حِ كُلَّ لِواءٍ صَقيلِ النَواحي

We unfurled upon the tips of the winds

every banner, its edges polished bright.

وَأَحسابُنا سامِياتُ الأُنوفِ

بَينَ المَقامِ وَبَينَ الضُراحِ

And our ancestral honors hold their noses high,

between the Maqam and the Durah.