ومُرِنّةٍ قَدَحَتْ زنادَ صبابتي

ومُرِنّةٍ قَدَحَتْ زنادَ صبابتي

والبرقُ يَقْدَحُ في الظلامِ شَرارَهُ

والبرقُ يَقْدَحُ في الظلامِ شَرارَهُ

And a plaintive dove struck the flint of my longing,

With a supple grace my youth once kindled

while lightning strikes its sparks in the darkness.

As lightning kindles through the gloom its sparks

ورقاءُ تأرَقُ مقلتي لبكائها

ورقاءُ تأرَقُ مقلتي لبكائها

ليلاً إذا ما هَوَّمتْ سمَّارُهُ

ليلاً إذا ما هَوَّمتْ سمَّارُهُ

A gray dove whose weeping keeps my eye awake

My eyelids, Raqa's, weep with many tears

at night, when its late-night companions have dozed.

When nightly halts the litter and its poles

إيهٍ بعيشكِ يا حمامةُ خبِّري

إيهٍ بعيشكِ يا حمامةُ خبِّري

كيف الكثيبُ ورَنْدُهُ وعَرارُهُ

كيف الكثيبُ ورَنْدُهُ وعَرارُهُ

Go on—by your life, O dove, tell me:

Ah, of your life, dove, tell me, inform me

How are the dune, its laurels, and its oxeye flowers?

How is the sand-hill and its shrubs and stones?

أَتَنَفّسَت بتنفُّسي أَثْلاتُهُ

أَتَنَفّسَت بتنفُّسي أَثْلاتُهُ

أم أَيْنَعَتْ بمدامعي أزهارُهُ

أم أَيْنَعَتْ بمدامعي أزهارُهُ

Have its tamarisks sighed with my sighing,

Have they breathed in my breathing its plants' scents

or have its flowers blossomed with my tears?

Or bloomed in my tears their many flowers?

أم ذلك الخِشْفُ الذي بجوانحي

أم ذلك الخِشْفُ الذي بجوانحي

مثواهُ لكن بالمشقَّرِ داره

مثواهُ لكن بالمشقَّرِ داره

Or has that fawn, who within my breast

Or is it but my fancy in my heart

has his dwelling, though his home is at al-Mushaqqar,

Which made its home in a broken abode?

حَفِظَ العهودَ وأيّ عهدِ مُهفهفٍ

حَفِظَ العهودَ وأيّ عهدِ مُهفهفٍ

ما جُذَّ في حُكْمِ الغرام مُغاره

ما جُذَّ في حُكْمِ الغرام مُغاره

kept his pledges? And what slender beloved’s pledge

It kept the troth. What troth and vows tossed to the winds

has not had its twisted cord severed by love’s decree?

Were ever torn by passion's sentence down?

كيف العزاءُ ودونَ ذاك الظبي مِنْ

كيف العزاءُ ودونَ ذاك الظبي مِنْ

أدواتِ أُسْدِ الغيل ما يختاره

أدواتِ أُسْدِ الغيل ما يختاره

How can there be solace, when that gazelle is guarded by

How can consolation come? Without that fawn

his chosen weapons of the lions of the thicket?

Among the roes what can the lion choose?

فمن الخيولِ جيادُها ومن السيو

فمن الخيولِ جيادُها ومن السيو

فِ حدادُها ومن القنا خَطَّاره

فِ حدادُها ومن القنا خَطَّاره

Thus, of the horses, their noble steeds; and of the swords,

Of horses, its steeds; of weapons, their keen blades;

their keen blades; and of the lances, those that sway.

Of lances, their points,-what can the choice prefer?

أما الفوارسُ فاستداروا حَوْلَهُ

أما الفوارسُ فاستداروا حَوْلَهُ

حيث استقلَّ كما استدار سواره

حيث استقلَّ كما استدار سواره

As for the horsemen, they formed a circle around him,

The horsemen stand around his resting-place

wherever he went, as his bracelet encircles his wrist.

As round its pivot moves the circling star.

أنضَوْا شفارَهُمُ الصقيلة دونَهُ

أنضَوْا شفارَهُمُ الصقيلة دونَهُ

حتى حَسِبْنا أنها أشفاره

حتى حَسِبْنا أنها أشفاره

They unsheathed their polished blades before him,

They bared for him their Indian blades before

until we thought they were his eyelashes.

We thought them very eyelids and eyebrows

ولربَّما هَزُّوا الذوابلَ مثلما

ولربَّما هَزُّوا الذوابلَ مثلما

هَزَّ المعاطفَ لحظُه وعُقارُهُ

هَزَّ المعاطفَ لحظُه وعُقارُهُ

And often they shook their slender spears, just as

The pennons tossed like turbans to and fro

his glance and his wine set bodies swaying.

In mourning for that face of moon in clouds

أحْبِبْ به منْ شادنٍ مُتربِّبٍ

أحْبِبْ به منْ شادنٍ مُتربِّبٍ

دانٍ وإنْ ألوى وشطَّ مزاره

دانٍ وإنْ ألوى وشطَّ مزاره

How lovable he is, a lordly fawn,

Let him love of a truthful friend profess

near, though he turns away and his dwelling lies far off.

To him if he submit, or wayward prove.

في وجنتيه من المهنّدِ ما اكتسي

في وجنتيه من المهنّدِ ما اكتسي

يومَ الوغى وبمقلتيه غِراره

يومَ الوغى وبمقلتيه غِراره

In his cheeks is what the Indian-steel sword wore

The double coat of mail his form once wore

on the day of battle; and in his eyes, its cutting edge.

Upon the day of battle and its dust

هو ميّتٌ لولا رجاءُ وصاله

هو ميّتٌ لولا رجاءُ وصاله

والعيشُ لولا صدُّه ونفاره

والعيشُ لولا صدُّه ونفاره

He would be dead, were it not for the hope of union with him;

He is not dead except in hope to meet-

and there would be life, were it not for his rejection and aversion.

Without it life itself would nought avail.

حيّا الإلهُ مَراحَهُ ومقيله

حيّا الإلهُ مَراحَهُ ومقيله

ما قرَّ في مَثوى الضلوعِ قراره

ما قرَّ في مَثوى الضلوعِ قراره

May God bless his evening abode and his midday resting-place,

God guard his resting place and burial!

so long as his resting-place remains within my ribs.

May he find quiet resting in the tomb!