أرى نفسي تتوق إلى النجوم — Alsharif Alradi

أَرى نَفسي تَتوقُ إِلى النُجومِ

سَأَحمِلُها عَلى الخَطَرِ العَظيمِ

I see my soul yearning for the stars.

I shall carry it into mighty peril.

وَإِنَّ أَذى الهُمومِ عَلى فُؤادي

أَضَرُّ مِنَ النُصولِ عَلى أَديمي

And the hurt that cares inflict upon my heart

Is worse than blades upon my skin.

وَإِنّي إِن صَبَرتُ ثَنَيتُ قَلبي

عَلى طَرفٍ مِنَ البَلوى أَليمِ

And if I endure, I fold my heart

Upon a painful edge of affliction.

وَلي أَمَلٌ كَصَدرِ الرَمحِ ماضٍ

سِوى أَنَّ اللَيالي مِن خُصومي

I have a hope, keen as a spear's point,

Except that the nights are among my foes.

وَيَمنَعُني المُدامَ طَروقُ هَمّي

فَما يَحظى بِها إِلّا نَديمي

My care's night-visits keep me from the wine;

None enjoys it but my drinking companion.

وَما أَوفَت عَلى العِشرينَ سِنّي

وَقَد أَوفى عَلى الدُنيا غَريمي

My age has not yet topped twenty,

Yet my adversary already towers over the world.

وَنَجوى قَد شَهِدتُ وَعُدتُ أُلقي

عِنانَ فَمي إِلى قَلبٍ كَتومِ

And many a secret council I have attended, then returned to entrust

My mouth's rein to a heart that keeps its secrets.

وَهَولٍ يُرعَدُ النِسيانُ مِنهُ

رَكِبتُ مَعارِضَ الجَدِّ المَرومِ

And many a terror at which oblivion trembles

I have braved along the paths to the fortune I seek.

إِذا ما حاجَةٌ قُضِيَت بِسَيفي

شَكَرتُ لَها يَدَ اللَيلِ البَهيمِ

Whenever a need is fulfilled by my sword,

I thank the hand of pitch-black night for it.

وَيَعرِفُني العَدُوُّ بِوَقعِ رُمحي

إِذا ما الوَجهُ مُوَّهَ بِالسُهومِ

And the enemy knows me by the stroke of my spear,

When the face is disguised by its drawn look.

وَما لي هِمَّةٌ إِلّا المَعالي

وَذَبُّ الضَيمِ عَن نَسبٍ صَميمِ

I have no ambition save high honors,

And shielding a pure lineage from indignity.

وَقودُ الخَيلِ تَركَعُ مِن وَجاها

وَقَد غَلَبَ النَجيعُ عَلى الكُلومِ

And leading horses that kneel from sore hooves,

While gore has flooded their wounds.

تُصَبَّحُ في الطُلى بِدَراكِ طَعنٍ

كَرَمحِ الشَولِ زُغنَ عَنِ المُسيمِ

They are assailed at dawn with thrust after thrust in their throats,

Like the kicks of dry she-camels straying from their herdsman.

وَيُذهِلُها إِذا التَقَتِ العَوالي

ضِرامُ الطَعنِ عَن مَضغِ الشَكيمِ

And when the spearpoints clash, they are distracted

By the blaze of thrusts from chewing their bits.

وَكُلُّ نَحيلَةٍ كَالسَهمِ تُصمي

عَرانينَ الأَماعِزِ وَالخُرومِ

And every slender mount, arrow-like, transfixes

The jutting crests of stony ground and mountain clefts.

تُريني الشَمسَ أَوَّلَ مَن يَراها

وَآخِرُ شَأوِها طَلَقُ الظَليمِ

It shows me the sun before anyone else sees it;

And the end of its run is a male ostrich's sprint.

وَحَثُّ العيسِ تَستَلِبُ الفَيافي

بِإِملاءِ الذَميلِ عَلى الرَسيمِ

And urging pale camels as they snatch up the wastes,

By prolonging the easy trot into a swifter pace.

جَزَعنَ اللَيلَ وَالأَفاقُ خُلسٌ

كَأَنَّ نُجومَها نَغلُ الأَديمِ

They crossed the night, the horizons dusky,

As though their stars were grubs in a hide.

وَأَبلَجَ مِثلَ فَرقِ الرَأسِ نَهجٍ

قَطَعنَ وَما قَلِقنَ مِنَ السُؤومِ

And a bright, clear road like a parting in the hair

They crossed, untroubled by weariness.

وَماءٍ قَد تَخَفَّرَ بِالدَياجي

عَنِ الطُرّاقِ وَالسَلَمِ المُقيمِ

And many a pool, sheltered in night's darkness

From night travelers and the rooted acacias,

وَرَدنَ وَلا دِلاءَ لَهُنَّ إِلّا

مُشافِرُهُنَّ في الوِردِ الجَمومِ

They came to water, having no buckets but

Their thick lips at the copious pool.

وَعُدنَ وَقَد وَهى سِلكُ الثَرَيّا

وَكَرَّ الصُبحُ في طَلَبِ النُجومِ

And they returned, the Pleiades' thread grown slack,

While dawn charged in pursuit of the stars.

وَقَد لاحَت بِأَعيُنِنا ذُكاءٌ

وَراءَ الفَجرِ كَالخَدِّ اللَطيمِ

And Dhuka', the sun, appeared before our eyes,

Behind the dawn, like a slapped cheek.

وَمُختَلِطِ النَدى أَرِجِ الخُزامى

رَطيبِ ذَوائِبِ الكَلَإِ العَميمِ

And many a dew-drenched meadow, fragrant with lavender,

With moist tresses of luxuriant grass,

أَبَحتُ حَريمَهُ إِبِلي فَأَمسَت

تُغيرُ شِفاهَهنَ عَلى الجَميمِ

I opened its sanctuary to my camels; by evening

Their lips were raiding the tender grass.

أَلا هَل أَطرُقُ السَمُراتِ يَوماً

بِريءَ القَلبِ مِن عَنَتِ الهُمومِ

Ah, shall I someday visit the samur acacias by night,

My heart free from the torment of cares?

وَأُلصِقُ بِالنَقا كَبِدي وَيَهفو

إِلَيَّ مِنَ النَقا وَلَعُ النَسيمِ

And press my liver to the dune, as there wafts

Toward me from the dune the breeze's ardor?

وَأُطلِقُ عُقلَها بِرُبىً تَراها

مِنَ الأَنواءِ ضاحِكَةَ الوُشومِ

And loose their hobbles on hills you see

Smiling with tattoos from the seasonal rains?

أَرى الأَيّامَ عادِيَةً عَلَينا

بِبيضٍ مِن نَوائِبِها وَشيمِ

I see the days assailing us

With calamities of theirs, both white and black.

يُضِلُّ نُفوسَنا داءٌ عُقامٌ

فَيُسلِمُنا إِلى أَرضٍ عَقيمِ

An incurable sickness leads our souls astray,

Then surrenders us to barren earth.

وَنُتبِعُ بِالدُموعِ وَأَيُّ دَمعٍ

يُجيرُ وَلَو أَقامَ عَلى السُجومِ

And we follow with tears—yet what tears

Can give refuge, however long they flow?

وَيُفرِدُنا الزَمانُ بِلا قَريبٍ

يُذُمُّ مِنَ الزَمانِ وَلا حَميمِ

And time leaves us alone, with no kinsman

To shelter us from time, and no close friend.

وَنَلقى قَبلَ لُقيانِ المَنايا

رِماحَ الداءِ تَطعَنُ في الجُسومِ

And before we meet death, we encounter

The spears of sickness stabbing into bodies.

فَلَو كانَت خُصوصاً سُرَّ قَومٌ

وَلَكِنَّ العَناءَ عَلى العُمومِ

Were it confined to some, some folk would rejoice;

But suffering falls upon all.

وَيُكثِرُ مَطلِيَ الغُرماءُ إِلّا

إِذا راحَ الرَدى وَغَسا غَريمي

My debtors repeatedly put me off, except

When death comes at evening and my creditor approaches.

رَأَيتُ المالَ يَرفَعُ مِن سَفيهٍ

وَعُدمُ المالِ يُنقِصُ مِن حَليمِ

I have seen wealth exalt a fool,

And lack of wealth diminish a forbearing man.

فَلَيتَ كَريمَ قَومٍ نالَ عِرضي

وَلَم يَدنَس بِذَمٍّ مِن لَئيمِ

Would that a nobleman of a clan had assailed my honor,

And it had not been sullied by a base man's reproach!

يَلومُ وَقَد أُلامَ وَشَرُّ شَيءٍ

إِذا لا قاكَ لَومٌ مِن مُليمِ

He reproaches me, and I may be reproached; yet the worst thing

Is when reproach meets you from one himself blameworthy.

أَشُبُّ لِأَحرِقَ الأَعداءَ لَحظي

فَيُرجِعُني إِلى الإِغضاءِ خيمي

I kindle my glance to burn my enemies,

But my nature returns me to lowering my eyes.

أَبى لي الذَمَّ آباءٌ تَساموا

إِلى عَنقاءَ طَيِّبَةِ الأُرومِ

My forefathers kept dishonor from me, rising

To an 'Anqa' of noble roots.

إِذا اِشتَمَلوا عَلى الأَعداءِ عادوا

وَقَد غَمَروا الضَغائِنِ بِالحُلومِ

When they encompassed their enemies, they returned

Having drowned grudges in forbearance.

أَلا مَن مُبلِغُ الأَحياءِ أَنّي

قَطَعتُ قَرائِنِ الزَمَنِ القَديمِ

Ah, who will tell the clans that I

Have severed the bonds of bygone time?

وَأَنّي قَد أَبيتُ مُقامُ رَحلي

بِوادي الرَمثِ أَو جَبَلِ الغَميمِ

And that at times I spend the night, my saddle set

In Wadi al-Ramth or on Mount al-Ghamim.

وَعَن قُربٍ سَيَشغَلُني زَماني

بِرَعيِ الناسِ عَن رَعيِ القُرومِ

And soon my time will occupy me

With tending people instead of tending camel stallions.

وَما لي مِن لِقاءِ المَوتِ بُدٌّ

فَما لي لا أَشُدُّ لَهُ حَزيمي

I have no escape from meeting death;

So why do I not tighten my belt for it?

سَأَلتَمِسُ العُلى إِمّا بِعُربٍ

يُرَونَ اللَهاذِمِ أَو بِرومِ

I shall seek eminence, either with Arabs

Who are seen as keen blades, or with Romans.

وَلَو أَنّي أُعِنتُ بِآلِ عُكلٍ

رَغِبتُ عَنِ الذَوائِبِ مِن تَميمِ

And even if I were aided by the clan of 'Ukl,

I would turn away from the foremost men of Tamim.

حَذارِكُمُ بَني الضَحّالِ أَنّي

إِلى الأَمرِ الَّذي تومونَ أومي

Beware, sons of al-Dahhal, for I

Point toward the very matter to which you point.

فَلا تَتَعَرَّضوا بِذِراعِ عادٍ

مُدِلٍّ عِندَ خيسَتِهِ شَتيمِ

So do not challenge a charging lion's foreleg,

Self-assured at his lair, grim-faced.

فَإِن تَكُ مَدحَةٌ سَبَقَت فَإِنّي

بِضِدِّ نِظامِها عَينُ الزَعيمِ

For if a poem of praise came first, then I

Am the very guarantor of its contrary in verse.

وَقافِيَةٍ تُخَضخِضُ ما تَرامَت

بِهِ الأَيّامُ في عِرضِ الَئيمِ

And many a rhyme churns up whatever has been hurled

By the days into a base man's honor.

تُرَدِّدُ ما لَها مِمَّن يَعيها

سِوى اَلإِطراقِ مِنها وَالوُجومِ

It resounds, gaining nothing from those who understand it

But heads lowered because of it, and stunned silence.

لَها في الرَأسِ سَوراتٌ يُطاطي

لَها الإِنسانُ كَالرُجُلِ الأَميمِ

It has fierce surges in the head; there stoops

Before it a man, like one wounded in the brain.

لِيَعلَمَ مَن أُناضِلُ أَنَّ شِعري

يُطالِعُ بِالشَقاءِ وَبِالنَعيمِ

Let those I contend with know that my verse

Comes bearing misery and bliss.