1. لتلوِ لويُّ الجيدَ ناكسةَ الطرفِ

    فهاشمها بالطف مهشومة الأنفِ

    Let Lu'ayy bend her neck, her gaze lowered;

    for her Hashim lies at al-Taff, its nose crushed.

  2. وفي الأرض فلتُنثِل كنانةَ نبلها

    فلم يَبقَ سهمٌ وفي وفاضهم يشفي

    And let Kinanah scatter her arrows upon the ground,

    for no arrow remains in their quivers to bring relief.

  3. ويا مضرَ الحمراء لا تنشري اللوا

    فإنَّ لِواكِ اليوم أجدر باللّف

    And O Mudar the Red, do not unfurl the banner;

    for today your banner is better left furled.

  4. ويا غالباً ردي الجفونَ على القذا

    لمن أنتِ بعد اليوم ممدودةُ الطرف

    And O Ghalib, close your eyelids over the grit;

    toward whom will your gaze reach after today?

  5. لِتنض نزارُ الشوس نثرةَ زغفها

    فبعد أبيّ الضيم ما هي للزَعفِ

    Let fierce-eyed Nizar shed her coat of supple mail;

    for after the scorner of oppression, she is no longer fit to slay.

  6. بني البيض أحساباً كراماً وأوجهاً

    وساماً وأسيافاً هي البرق في الخطفِ

    O sons of men pure and noble in lineage, with faces

    handsome, and swords that are lightning in their swiftness—

  7. ألستم إذا عن ساقها الحرب شمَّرت

    وعن نابها قد قلَّصت شفة الحتفِ

    are you not those who, when war bared her shank,

    and death's lip had drawn back from her fang,

  8. سحبتم إليها ذيلَ كلِّ مفاضةٍ

    تردّ الضُبا بالثلم والسمرَ بالقصفِ

    dragged toward her the hem of every ample mail-coat

    that repels blades by notching them, and tawny spears by breaking them?

  9. فكيف رضيتم من حرارةِ وِترها

    بماء الطُلا منكم ضبا القومِ تستشفي

    How, then, could you be content, instead of her burning vengeance,

    with the enemy's blades seeking relief in the water of your necks?

  10. ألم يأتكم أن الحسينَ تنازعت

    حشاه القنا حتَّى ثوى بثرى الطفِّ

    Have you not heard how they vied over Husayn—

    the spears over his entrails—until he lay in al-Taff's dust,

  11. بشمّ أُنوفٍ اكرهوا السمر فأنتنت

    تَكَسر غيظاً وهي راعفةُ الأنفِ

    with proud-nosed men who forced the tawny spears, so they reeked,

    snapping in fury, their noses streaming blood?

  12. أبا حسنٍ أبناؤك اليوم حلَّقت

    بقادمة الأسياف عن خِطَّةِ الخسفِ

    O Abu Hasan, your sons today have soared

    on the foremost flight-feather of swords, beyond a state of abasement.

  13. ثنت عِطفها نحو المنيَّة إذ أبت

    بأن تغتذي للذل مثنيَّةَ العِطفِ

    They turned their flanks toward death, refusing

    to take nourishment with their flanks bent in humiliation.

  14. لقد حُشدت حَشد العطاش على الردى

    عطاشاً وما بلّت حشاً بسوى اللهف

    They were indeed mustered toward death like the thirsty,

    thirsty, their entrails moistened by nothing but anguish.

  15. ثوت حيث لم تذمُم لها الحرب موقفاً

    ولا قبضت بالرُّعب منها على كفِّ

    They lay where war reproached no stand of theirs,

    nor gripped a hand of theirs with terror.

  16. سَل الطفّ عنهم أين بالأمس طنَّبوا

    وأين استقلّوا اليومَ عن عرصة الطفِّ

    Ask al-Taff about them: where did they pitch their tents yesterday?

    And where have they gone today from al-Taff's open ground?

  17. وَهل زحفُ هذا اليوم أبقى لحيِّهم

    عميدَ وغًى يستنهض الحيَّ للزحفِ

    And has this day's advance left their clan

    a battle-chief to rouse the clan to advance?

  18. فلا وأبيك الخير لم يبقَ مِنهمُ

    قريع وغًى يُقري القَنا وهجَ الصفِّ

    No, by your noble father, not one of them remains—

    no battle-champion to feast the spears on the blaze of the ranks.

  19. مشوا تحتَ ظلِّ المرهفات جميعهم

    فأفئدةٍ حرَّى إلى مَورد الحتفِ

    They all walked beneath the shade of sharpened swords,

    and so, with burning hearts, toward death's watering-place.

  20. فتلك على الرمضاء صرعى جُسومهم

    ونسوتُهم هاتيك أسرى على العجفِ

    There lie their bodies, slain upon the burning ground,

    and there are their women, captives on emaciated mounts.

  21. مضوا بالأُنوف الشمّ قدماً وبعدهم

    تخال نزاراً تنشق النقع في أنفِ

    They went forward, noses proudly raised, and after them

    you fancy Nizar still inhaling the battle-dust through a nose.

  22. وهل يملك الموتور قائمَ سيفه

    ليدفع عنه الضيم وهو بلا كفِّ

    And can one with blood to avenge grasp his sword's hilt

    to ward off oppression from himself, when he has no hand?

  23. خذي يا قلوب الطالبيين قرحةً

    تزول الليالي وهي دامية القِرفِ

    Receive, O hearts of the Talibids, a wound:

    nights pass away, yet its scab keeps bleeding.

  24. فإنَّ التي لم تبرح الخِدرَ أُبرزت

    عشيَّة لا كهفٌ فتأوي إلى كهفِ

    For she who had never left her curtained chamber was exposed

    at dusk, with no shelter to which she could turn for shelter.

  25. لقد رفعت عنها يد القوم سِجفَها

    وكان صفيح الهند حاشيةَ السجفِ

    The enemy's hand had lifted her curtain from her,

    and Indian sword-blades had been the curtain's border.

  26. وقَد كانَ مِن فرطِ الخفارةِ صوتُها

    يغضُّ فغضَّ اليوم من شدَّة الضعفِ

    And once, from her great modesty, her voice

    was lowered; today it is lowered by extreme weakness.

  27. وَهاتفةٍ ناحت على فقدِ إلفها

    كما هتفت في الدوح فاقدة الإِلفِ

    And a woman crying out wailed at the loss of her loved one,

    as a mate-bereft bird cries among the great trees.

  28. لقد فزِعت من هجمَة القومِ وُلَّهاً

    إلى ابن أبيها وهو فوق الثرى مغفِ

    She fled in terror from the enemy's assault, distraught,

    to her father's son, asleep upon the dust.

  29. فنادت عليه حين ألفته عارياً

    على جسمه تسفي صبا الريح ما تسفي

    Then she called to him when she found him naked,

    the east wind strewing over his body whatever it strews:

  30. حملتُ الرزايا قبل يومك كلّها

    فما أنقضت ظهري ولا أوهنت كتفي

    I bore all calamities before your day,

    yet they did not break my back, nor weaken my shoulder.

  31. ولاويتُ من دهري جميع صروفه

    فلم يُلوِ صبري قبل فقدك في صَرفِ

    And I wrestled with all my time's vicissitudes,

    but before I lost you, no turn had bent my patience.

  32. ثكلتك حين استعظلَ الخطبُ واحداً

    أرى كلّ عضو منك يُغني عن الألفِ

    I lost you, a single man, when the calamity grew overwhelming;

    I see each limb of yours standing in place of a thousand.

  33. بودِّي لو أن الردى كان مرقدي

    ولا ابن أبي نبهتُ من رقدة الحتفِ

    Would that death had been my resting-place,

    and, my father's son, I had not been roused from death's sleep.

  34. ويا لوعةَ لو ضمَّني اللحدُ قبلها

    ولم أبدُ بين القوم خاشعةَ الطرفِ

    O burning grief! Would that the grave had enfolded me before it,

    and I had not appeared among the enemy, my gaze downcast.