1. A resolve that has kept time away from me and made it sit still,
And patience over days that have become remote and distant,

2. And a heart that passionate souls crave to be gentle,
When it is filled with worries or when morning comes,

3. Seized by greedy hands with determination,
Quarrelling, and only growing further apart,

4. When its hopes ride on the back of an intention,
You see a young man plunged in passion giving help,

5. A vigilant warrior who never tires, as though
He sees the night as a plain and the galaxy as a guide,

6. He dedicates himself to the clashing of swords with determination
That makes him dare to plunge into the nights undressed,

7. O you whose love I seek from afar, I am indeed
Your friend if you are the sharpened sword,

8. For I have seen the sword aid the young man
When he speaks a word, whether plain or threatening,

9. I see between attaining honor and disgrace an instant
Of stabbing that leads the lance to the intended spot,

10. So one whom his soul delays dies unsuccessful
While one whom his soul puts first dies a master,

11. If a young man’s daring brings harm to him
Glory is not sought nor is honor ransomable,

12. Ransom for the son of 'Ubbad, a grudge in his soul,
When alarm breaks the outstretched guy-ropes,

13. And he organizes the tips of the lances but rather
Before stabbing he plans a well-aimed opinion,

14. With it I walked my steps and it was as though
I walked to achieve heights bound,

15. And whoever dies in the captivity of disgrace, his heart
Sees honor born in the abode of disgrace,

16. A young man rejoices bearing weapons, and perhaps
He will see his death in the blade he carries,

17. One attains heights who risks himself
And does not hoard ancestral glory made firm,

18. Glory is not gained from the noble manners of a youth
If he is an imitator in the religion of heights.

19. O Abu Qasim, this is what I hoped for
To subdue enemies and humble the envious,

20. If our days are shaken you are a refuge
And if our hopes are thirsty you are a watering place,

21. And when I saw a robe shield its counterpart
I donned the striped cloak reaching to you,

22. And if harming a man with one's might were not possible
My resolve would have clothed me in an impenetrable coat of mail,

23. And a night we handed over to you as though
We pushed away with it a surging sea wave,

24. And a sun whose robe we stripped for you while sick
When we would have worn it as a flowing garment,

25. And a king—we disdained to stay at his gate
So we took provisions like a scorned man not provisioning,

26. And a lively gray horse, masked with his headcloth,
Running long, striking sparks with his teeth when he runs,

27. Who saw the legs of the white-footed ostrich as though
Its hands were stripping the naked sand grouse,

28. We left behind for the hands of enemies what was behind them,
And whoever is humiliated in a land sees remoteness as more beloved,

29. And we traveled against the darkness happily as though
We were bedouin meeting your side, more fortunate,

30. I left people as a treasure to you as though
I saw each hidden thing as a camel marked,

31. Would that the people of Qasim had let me choose
That I shepherd glory renewed and replenished!

32. For God, there is light in your smile, it
Rips apart a cloak of night that is ice cold,

33. And for God, what your cheeks contain, they
Are mountain slopes that make hope and dew appear,

34. Ignite their glow, O pinnacle of glory, I see
The brightest of hopes bowing down toward you,

35. It is you whom, when he gained a seat on earth
From limit to limit, ascended into the heavens,

36. When enemies are thirsty for you, their saddlebags
Quench a lowland and a plain grown with herbage,

37. Secrets keep you judiciously and wisely
While opinions expose you gloriously and loftily,

38. You were only the sword, known when unsheathed
And unknown in some situations when sheathed,

39. And a noble, dignified day you made with a raid
Of horses driving away the scattered ostriches,

40. And a day you made ugly by covering its face
With the dust of war until the birds molted,

41. A noble soul cast you to the furthest glory
And a bold heart fearing no harm,

42. And the determination of a daring man against every struggle
Where his nature departs from what it was accustomed to,

43. Remaining in the desert of grudges, staying up at night
When the war dampened its fire or kindled it,

44. To you belongs the dominant pen which, if coupled
With the flow of feats, would be the most flowing and generous,

45. If it escapes from the knot of fingers you would think
It sews on paper an embroidered coat of mail,

46. The writing coquets with it flirtatiously
If the observer of the lance returns one day bleary-eyed,

47. And if the point of a reddened sword from enemy blood flows
It spills the blackened blood of stirring events,

48. If a resolve from you provokes it, it unleashes
Its arrivals, running with threats and appointments,

49. I will praise you in my poetry, for I have seen
The blackened person sing praises of the blackened one,

50. For I have known none but you as my quest
And no horses have taken me to any destination but you,

51. Lo, withholding praise is miserliness by one who bestows kindness,
And none gives gifts but to be praised,

52. If I am open-mouthed in praising the sublime, I have not
Stretched my hand to other than bounty,

53. I have sought your affection, nothing else,
And the affection of a young man is given and ransomed,

54. Honor called me to you until I answered it,
And whoever the whole of water sought gave to drink,

55. And I hope to annoy the envious with a feat
From being your neighbor, doubly and singularly,

56. And this praise of you is the first praise I praised,
And I trained speech until it was precise,

57. And had any praise of others clung to me
I would be like one who strains the frozen water,

58. I am not pleased that this alone is a gift to you
In which I include eternal praise,

59. For if my poetry missed you today, refusing,
I shall give it to you tomorrow,

60. And were it not for you, no poet would gesture
To praise, counting lofty ‘Ali and Muhammad,

61. His father, his father is tall in himself
Dedicated to honor, mandated by it and conforming,

62. A youth whose age surpasses fifteen years
Cultivating for him superiority, glory, and resolve,

63. The youth of youth but the sage of merits—he did not walk
To old age unless he assumed virtue’s seat,

64. Independent, not confiding to other than himself
A conversation, nor calling people for help,

65. Nor asking his time for more than his strength,
What sufficed me from betrayals fell within earshot,

66. I will praise a living that protected my face with its water
Even if what it gave was frugal and sparse,

67. And they said: mingling with people is intimacy and comfort,
But had I been pleased with people, I would not have isolated myself,

68. I longed for the merit in you, revived
By your mention, my poetry fallen asleep and slumbering,

69. And I was none but a lover whose passion strayed
Who now entreats the singing dove,

70. Nor is it strange if one carried away speaks of you,
Seeing you truly at the heights, so he gave generously,

71. I distanced myself from singing without desire,
But I came after your favors, singing your praise,

72. So command me before my death, for I see
Man does not remain, even if the distance is far,

73. The dead is only a traveller who disliked provisions
And fate hurried him to provision himself,