لَقَدindeed جَثَمَتhas settled تَعبيسَةٌa scowl فيupon المَضاحِكِthe smiling mouths
لَقَد جَثَمَت تَعبيسَةٌ في المَضاحِكِ
تَمُدُّstretches forth بِأَضباعِwith the upper arms of الدُموعِthe tears السَوافِكِstreaming
تَمُدُّ بِأَضباعِ الدُموعِ السَوافِكِ
Indeed, a scowl has settled upon smiling mouths,
stretching out with the arms of streaming tears.
فَكَفكَفso beat back صُدورَthe points of السَمهَرِيِّthe Samhari spears بِعَزمَةٍwith firm resolve
فَكَفكَف صُدورَ السَمهَرِيِّ بِعَزمَةٍ
عَلىagainst كُلِّevery مَلآنٍone brimming مِنَwith الضِغنِrancor فاتِكِruthless killer
عَلى كُلِّ مَلآنٍ مِنَ الضِغنِ فاتِكِ
So beat back the points of Samhari spears with firm resolve
against every ruthless killer brimming with rancor.
إِذاwhen ماfor emphasis أَضَلَّconfounds النَقعُthe battle-dust طُرقَthe paths of سِنانِهِhis spearhead
إِذا ما أَضَلَّ النَقعُ طُرقَ سِنانِهِ
تَسَرَّعَdarts swiftly مِنthrough حُجبِthe veils of الكُلىthe kidneys فيalong مَسالِكِpassageways
تَسَرَّعَ مِن حُجبِ الكُلى في مَسالِكِ
When battle-dust confounds his spearhead's paths,
it darts along passages through the kidneys' veils.
وَلَيلٍand many a night مَريضِsickly النَجمِthe stars مِنfrom صِحَّةِthe vigor of الدُجىthe darkness
وَلَيلٍ مَريضِ النَجمِ مِن صِحَّةِ الدُجى
خَطَتهُtraversed it بِناwith us أَيديthe forelegs of الهِجانِthe noble white camels الأَوارِكِarak-browsing
خَطَتهُ بِنا أَيدي الهِجانِ الأَوارِكِ
And many a night whose stars were sick from the darkness's vigor,
the forelegs of white, arak-browsing camels traversed it with us,
بِرَكبٍwith a band of riders فَرَواtore بُردَthe cloak of الظَلامِdarkness وَقَلَّصواand gathered up
بِرَكبٍ فَرَوا بُردَ الظَلامِ وَقَلَّصوا
حَواشيهِits hems فيin أَيديthe forelegs of القِلاصِyoung she-camels الرَواتِكِswiftly pacing
حَواشيهِ في أَيدي القِلاصِ الرَواتِكِ
bearing riders who rent the cloak of darkness and gathered up
its hems in the forelegs of swiftly pacing young she-camels.
يُصافِحُهُshakes hands with them نَشرُthe fragrance of الخُزامىlavender كَأَنَّماas though
يُصافِحُهُ نَشرُ الخُزامى كَأَنَّما
يُمَسِّحُstrokes أَعطافَthe flanks of الرِماحِthe lances السَواهِكِswaying
يُمَسِّحُ أَعطافَ الرِماحِ السَواهِكِ
Lavender's fragrance shakes hands with them, as though
stroking the flanks of the swaying lances.
فَجاءَتso they came بِأُسدٍwith lions فيin الحَديدِiron تَرَقرَقَتshimmered
فَجاءَت بِأُسدٍ في الحَديدِ تَرَقرَقَت
عَلَيهاupon them بِماءِwith the water of الشَمسِthe sun غُدرُthe pools of التَرائِكِthe helmets
عَلَيها بِماءِ الشَمسِ غُدرُ التَرائِكِ
So they came with lions clad in iron; there shimmered
upon them helmet-pools filled with the sun's liquid light.
بَدَتappeared تَزلَقُslip الأَبصارُthe eyes فيin لَمَعانِهاtheir brilliance
بَدَت تَزلَقُ الأَبصارُ في لَمَعانِها
عَلىdespite أَنَّهاtheir being فيin ثَوبِa garment أَقتَمَdust-dark حالِكِpitch-black
عَلى أَنَّها في ثَوبِ أَقتَمَ حالِكِ
They appeared, eyes slipping across their brilliance,
though clad in a dust-dark, pitch-black garment.
تُلِفُّentwines بِأَعرافِwith the manes of الجِيادِthe steeds رِماحَهاtheir lances
تُلِفُّ بِأَعرافِ الجِيادِ رِماحَها
وَتَنشُرُand unfurls مِنsome of أَطمارِthe tatters of بيضٍwhite blades بَواتِكِkeen-cutting
وَتَنشُرُ مِن أَطمارِ بيضٍ بَواتِكِ
They entwine their lances with the manes of steeds,
and unfurl tatters of keen white blades.
وَتَنكِحُand wed أَوتارَthe strings of الحَناياcurved bows نِبالُهاtheir arrows
وَتَنكِحُ أَوتارَ الحَنايا نِبالُها
فَتَشرُدُthen flee عَنهاfrom them فيon نِصالٍarrowheads فَوارِكِspurning their mates
فَتَشرُدُ عَنها في نِصالٍ فَوارِكِ
And their arrows wed the strings of curved bows,
then flee them on points that spurn their mates.
أَلَفَّknit closely together بِلَألاءِwith the glitter of السَماحِsupple spears فُروجَهاtheir gaps
أَلَفَّ بِلَألاءِ السَماحِ فُروجَها
تُبَيِّضُwhitens أَعجاسَthe handgrips of القِسِيِّthe bows العَواتِكِreddened with age
تُبَيِّضُ أَعجاسَ القِسِيِّ العَواتِكِ
Their gaps were knit together with the glitter of supple spears,
whitening the grips of age-reddened bows,
بِيَومِon a day of طِرادٍmounted combat قَنَّعَveiled الشَمسَthe sun نَقعُهُits battle-dust
بِيَومِ طِرادٍ قَنَّعَ الشَمسَ نَقعُهُ
بِفاضِلِwith the trailing excess of أَذيالِthe skirts of الرُبىhills وَالدَكادِكِand low ridges
بِفاضِلِ أَذيالِ الرُبى وَالدَكادِكِ
on a day of mounted combat whose dust veiled the sun
with the trailing skirts of hills and low ridges.
خَطَواthey strode تَحتَهُbeneath it حُمرَred in الدُروعِarmor كَأَنَّماas though
خَطَوا تَحتَهُ حُمرَ الدُروعِ كَأَنَّما
تَرَدَّواthey cloaked themselves بِمَوّارِin surging الدِماءِblood الصَوائِكِclinging
تَرَدَّوا بِمَوّارِ الدِماءِ الصَوائِكِ
They strode beneath it, their armor red, as though
cloaked in surging, clinging blood.
وَلاand not يَألَمونَthey feel pain from الطَعنَspear-thrusts حَتّىto the point that كَأَنَّهُمas though they
وَلا يَألَمونَ الطَعنَ حَتّى كَأَنَّهُم
أَسَرّواhid within themselves ضُلوعاًribs مِنmade of كُعوبِthe joints of النَيازِكِjavelins
أَسَرّوا ضُلوعاً مِن كُعوبِ النَيازِكِ
Nor do they feel pain from spear-thrusts, so that it is as though
they bore within them ribs of knotted javelin-shafts.
وَلاand no يَومَday إِلّاexcept أَنthat تُراميassail رِماحُهُits spears
وَلا يَومَ إِلّا أَن تُرامي رِماحُهُ
قُلوبَthe hearts of تَميمٍTamim فيin صُدورِthe breasts of المَهالِكِdeadly perils
قُلوبَ تَميمٍ في صُدورِ المَهالِكِ
And no day passes but its spears assail
the hearts of Tamim in the breasts of deadly perils.
وَقَدand already شَرِبَتhave drunk in ذَودَthe small herd of العَواليtall lances أَنامِلٌfingers
وَقَد شَرِبَت ذَودَ العَوالي أَنامِلٌ
وَلَكِنَّهاbut they بَينَamong الطُلىthroats فيin مَبارِكِkneeling-places
وَلَكِنَّها بَينَ الطُلى في مَبارِكِ
And fingers have already drunk in the little herd of tall lances,
yet their kneeling-places lie among throats.
تُطِلُّshed unavenged دِماءًblood مِنfrom نُحورٍthe throats of أَعِزَّةٍmighty men
تُطِلُّ دِماءً مِن نُحورٍ أَعِزَّةٍ
كَحَقنِlike storing أَفاويقِfresh milkings of الضُروعِudders الحَواشِكِswelling with milk
كَحَقنِ أَفاويقِ الضُروعِ الحَواشِكِ
They shed blood unavenged from the throats of mighty men,
like storing fresh milk from swelling udders.
أَلِكنيcarry my message فَتىO youth of فِهرٍFihr إِلىto البيضِwhite swords وَالقَناand lances
أَلِكني فَتى فِهرٍ إِلى البيضِ وَالقَنا
فَإِنّيfor I am قَذاةٌa mote فيin عُيونِthe eyes of المَآلِكِkings
فَإِنّي قَذاةٌ في عُيونِ المَآلِكِ
Bear my message, youth of Fihr, to white swords and lances,
for I am a mote in the eyes of kings.
وَليand I have أَمَلٌa hope مِنfrom دونِshort of مَبرَكِthe resting-place of نِضوِهِits worn-out mount
وَلي أَمَلٌ مِن دونِ مَبرَكِ نِضوِهِ
يُقَلقِلُjolts أَثباجَthe backs of المَطيِّriding camels البَوارِكِkneeling
يُقَلقِلُ أَثباجَ المَطيِّ البَوارِكِ
And I have a hope that, before its weary mount finds rest,
sets the backs of kneeling camels rocking.
سَقىmay give drink to اللَهُGod ظَمآنَthe one thirsting for المُنىdreams كُلَّevery عارِضٍrain-cloud
سَقى اللَهُ ظَمآنَ المُنى كُلَّ عارِضٍ
مِنَof الدَمِblood مَلآنِfull in المِلاطَينِboth flanks حاشِكِbrimming
مِنَ الدَمِ مَلآنِ المِلاطَينِ حاشِكِ
May God water the thirster for dreams with every cloud
of blood, full in both flanks and brimming,
يُزَمجِرُroars مِنfrom وَقعِthe impact of الصَفيحِbroad swordblades عَلىupon الطُلىthroats
يُزَمجِرُ مِن وَقعِ الصَفيحِ عَلى الطُلى
وَيُرعِدُand thunders مِنfrom وَقعِthe impact of القَناlances بِالحَوارِكِon the withers
وَيُرعِدُ مِن وَقعِ القَنا بِالحَوارِكِ
roaring as broad blades strike throats,
and thundering as lances strike the withers,
بِطَعنٍwith thrusts إِذاwhen بادَتare destroyed عَواليهِtheir spearheads قَوَّمَتstraighten
بِطَعنٍ إِذا بادَت عَواليهِ قَوَّمَت
مِنَamong القَومِthe men مُنآدَthe bent portions of الضُلوعِthe ribs الشَوابِكِinterlocking
مِنَ القَومِ مُنآدَ الضُلوعِ الشَوابِكِ
with thrusts that, when their spearheads break, straighten
the men's bent, interlocking ribs.
Sol 6.1