ألا عم صباحاً أيها الطلل البالي — Imru Alqays

أَلا عِم صَباحاً أَيُّها الطَلَلُ البالي

وَهَل يَعِمَن مَن كانَ في العُصُرِ الخالي

Ah, may your morning be happy, you timeworn ruins!

And can one who lived in bygone ages have a happy morning?

وَهَل يَعِمَن إِلّا سَعيدٌ مُخَلَّدٌ

قَليلُ الهُمومِ ما يَبيتُ بِأَوجالِ

And can any have a happy morning but one fortunate and immortal,

with few cares, never spending the night in dread?

وَهَل يَعِمَن مَن كانَ أَحدَثُ عَهدِهِ

ثَلاثينَ شَهراً في ثَلاثَةِ أَحوالِ

And can one have a happy morning whose latest acquaintance was

thirty months past, within three years?

دِيارٌ لِسَلمى عافِياتٌ بِذي خالٍ

أَلَحَّ عَلَيها كُلُّ أَسحَمَ هَطّالِ

Salma's dwellings, effaced at Dhu Khal,

relentlessly battered by every dark, pouring cloud.

وَتَحسِبُ سَلمى لا تَزالُ تَرى طَلّاً

مِنَ الوَحشِ أَو بيضًا بِمَيثاءِ مِحلالِ

And Salma thinks she still sees a fawn

of the wild herds, or eggs on a soft-soiled, much-frequented plain.

وَتَحسِبُ سَلمى لا نَزالُ كَعَهدِنا

بِوادي الخُزامى أَو عَلى رَسِ أَوعالِ

And Salma thinks we are still as we once were,

in Wadi al-Khuzama, or at Rass Aw'al.

لَيالِيَ سَلمى إِذ تُريكَ مُنَصَّباً

وَجيداً كَجيدِ الرِئمِ لَيسَ بِمِعطالِ

Those nights with Salma, when she showed you a high-set bosom

and a neck like a white gazelle's, never bare of ornaments.

أَلا زَعَمَت بَسباسَةُ اليَومَ أَنَّني

كَبِرتُ وَأَن لا يُحسِنُ اللَهوَ أَمثالي

Ah, Basbasa claimed today that I

have grown old, and that men like me are no good at pleasure.

كَذَبتِ لَقَد أَصبى عَلى المَرءِ عِرسُهُ

وَأَمنَعُ عِرسي أَن يُزَنَّ بِها الخالي

You lie! I can indeed entice a man's wife away from him,

and keep my wife from being linked in scandal with a bachelor.

وَيا رُبَّ يَومٍ قَد لَهَوتُ وَلَيلَةٍ

بِآنِسَةٍ كَأَنَّها خَطُّ تِمثالِ

And oh, how many a day and night I have dallied

with a charming woman, like the outline of a statue.

يُضيءُ الفِراشُ وَجهَها لِضَجيعِها

كَمِصباحِ زَيتٍ في قَناديلِ ذَبّالِ

Her face lights up the bed for the man beside her,

like an oil lamp among a wick-tender's lanterns.

كَأَنَّ عَلى لَبّاتِها جَمرَ مُصطَلٍ

أَصابَ غَضاً جَزلاً وَكَفَّ بِأَجزالِ

As though upon the hollows of her throat lay embers of one warming himself,

who found fresh, thick firewood and ringed it with stout logs.

وَهَبَّت لَهُ ريحٌ بِمُختَلَفِ الصَوا

صَباً وَشِمالٌ في مَنازِلِ قَفّالِ

And a wind blew upon it among the scattered stone waymarks,

east wind and north wind, in the camps of returning travelers.

وَمِثلُكِ بَيضاءَ العَوارِضِ طِفلَةٍ

لَعوبٍ تُنَسّيني إِذا قُمتُ سِربالي

And many a woman like you, white of teeth, tender-skinned,

playful, makes me forget my tunic when I rise.

إِذا ما الضَجيعُ اِبتَزَّها مِن ثِيابِها

تَميلُ عَلَيهِ هَونَةً غَيرَ مِجبالِ

When her bedmate strips her of her clothes,

she leans gently upon him, never unyielding.

كَحَقفِ النَقا يَمشي الوَليدانِ فَوقَهُ

بِما اِحتَسَبا مِن لينِ مَسٍّ وَتَسهالِ

Like the curve of a sand dune over which two boys walk,

counting on its soft touch and easy going.

لَطيفَةُ طَيِّ الكَشحِ غَيرُ مُفاضَةٍ

إِذا اِنفَلَتَت مُرتَجَّةً غَيرَ مِتفالِ

Slender at the fold of her waist, not broad-bellied,

when she slips away, quivering, never without perfume.

تَنَوَّرتُها مِن أَذرُعاتٍ وَأَهلُها

بِيَثرِبَ أَدنى دارَها نَظَرٌ عالِ

I sighted her fire from Adhri'at, while her people

were in Yathrib; even her nearest home required a far-reaching gaze.

نَظَرتُ إِلَيها وَالنُجومُ كَأَنَّها

مَصابيحُ رُهبانٍ تَشُبُّ لِقَفّالِ

I looked toward her, while the stars seemed

like monks' lamps, blazing for travelers returning home.

سَمَوتُ إِلَيها بَعدَ ما نامَ أَهلُها

سُموَّ حَبابِ الماءِ حالاً عَلى حالِ

I made my way to her after her people had fallen asleep,

as water's ripples rise, stage after stage.

فَقالَت سَباكَ اللَهُ إِنَّكَ فاضِحي

أَلَستَ تَرى السُمّارَ وَالناسَ أَحوالي

She said, “May God take you captive! You will disgrace me.

Do you not see the nighttime talkers and the people around me?”

فَقُلتُ يَمينَ اللَهِ أَبرَحُ قاعِداً

وَلَو قَطَعوا رَأسي لَدَيكِ وَأَوصالي

I said, “By God's oath, I will not leave my seat,

even if they cut off my head and limbs beside you.”

حَلَفتُ لَها بِاللَهِ حِلفَةَ فاجِرٍ

لَناموا فَما إِن مِن حَديثٍ وَلا صالِ

I swore to her by God, with a sinner's oath,

that they were surely asleep—no talk, no one warming by a fire.

فَلَمّا تَنازَعنا الحَديثَ وَأَسمَحَت

هَصَرتُ بِغُصنٍ ذي شَماريخَ مَيّالِ

Then, when we had exchanged words and she yielded,

I bent down a swaying bough bearing fruit-clusters.

وَصِرنا إِلى الحُسنى وَرَقَّ كَلامُنا

وَرُضتُ فَذَلَّت صَعبَةٌ أَيَّ إِذلالِ

We came to a happy accord, and our words grew tender,

and I tamed her: the unruly one yielded utterly.

فَأَصبَحتُ مَعشوقاً وَأَصبَحَ بَعلُها

عَلَيهِ القَتامُ سَيِّئَ الظَنِّ وَالبالِ

By morning I was her beloved, while her husband

was dust-dark, suspicious, and troubled in spirit.

يَغُطُّ غَطيطَ البَكرِ شُدَّ خِناقُهُ

لِيَقتُلَني وَالمَرءُ لَيسَ بِقَتّالِ

He snorts like a young camel with its neck-rope pulled tight,

intent on killing me, though the man is no killer.

أَيَقتُلُني وَالمَشرَفِيُّ مُضاجِعي

وَمَسنونَةٌ زُرقٌ كَأَنيابِ أَغوالِ

Will he kill me, when the Mashrafi sword lies beside me,

and sharpened, steel-blue points like ghouls' fangs?

وَلَيسَ بِذي رُمحٍ فَيَطعَنُني بِهِ

وَلَيسَ بِذي سَيفٍ وَلَيسَ بِنَبّالِ

He has no spear with which to stab me,

and has no sword, nor is he an archer.

أَيَقتُلَني وَقَد شَغَفتُ فُؤادَها

كَما شَغَفَ المَهنوءَةَ الرَجُلُ الطالي

Will he kill me, when I have set her heart afire,

as the man applying tar scorches the she-camel he treats?

وَقَد عَلِمَت سَلمى وَإِن كانَ بَعلُها

بِأَنَّ الفَتى يَهذي وَلَيسَ بِفَعّالِ

And Salma knows, though he is her husband,

that the fellow raves and is no man of action.

وَماذا عَلَيهِ إِن ذَكَرتُ أَوانِساً

كَغِزلانِ رَملٍ في مَحاريبِ أَقيالِ

And what harm is it to him if I mention charming women,

like sand gazelles in the lofty chambers of princes?

وَبَيتِ عَذارى يَومَ دَجنٍ وَلَجتُهُ

يَطُفنَ بِجَبّاءِ المَرافِقِ مِكسالِ

And a house of maidens I entered on an overcast day,

where they circled a languid woman, plump at the elbows.

سِباطُ البَنانِ وَالعَرانينِ وَالقَنا

لِطافَ الخُصورِ في تَمامٍ وَإِكمالِ

Long and straight of finger, nose, and limb,

slender-waisted, fully formed and perfect.

نَواعِمُ يُتبِعنَ الهَوى سُبُلَ الرَدى

يَقُلنَ لِأَهلِ الحِلمِ ضُلَّ بِتِضلالِ

Soft and pampered, they follow desire down the paths of ruin,

telling men of reason, “Go astray, utterly astray!”

صَرَفتُ الهَوى عَنهُنَّ مِن خَشيَةِ الرَدى

وَلَستُ بِمُقليِّ الخِلالِ وَلا قالِ

I turned my desire away from them for fear of ruin,

though I am not hated for my ways, nor do I hate them.

كَأَنِّيَ لَم أَركَب جَواداً لِلَذَّةٍ

وَلَم أَتَبَطَّن كاعِباً ذاتَ خِلخالِ

As though I had never ridden a noble steed for pleasure,

nor lain belly-to-belly with a full-breasted maiden wearing an anklet,

وَلَم أَسبَإِ الزِقَّ الرَويَّ وَلَم أَقُل

لِخَيلِيَ كُرّي كَرَّةً بَعدَ إِجفالِ

nor bought a brimming wineskin, nor said

to my cavalry, “Charge again after fleeing!”

وَلَم أَشهَدِ الخَيلَ المُغيرَةَ بِالضُحى

عَلى هَيكَلٍ عَبلِ الجُزارَةِ جَوّالِ

Nor joined the horsemen raiding in the morning,

upon a mighty, heavy-limbed steed, nimble in its turns,

سَليمَ الشَظى عَبلَ الشَوى شَنَجَ النَسا

لَهُ حَجَباتٌ مُشرِفاتٌ عَلى الفالِ

sound of splint-bones, stout of lower limbs, taut of hamstring,

with hip-points towering above its haunch-muscles,

وَصُمٌّ صِلابٌ ما يَقينَ مِنَ الوَجى

كَأَنَّ مَكانَ الرِدفِ مِنهُ عَلى رَألِ

and solid, hard hooves, unprotected against soreness,

as though its seat for a rear rider rested on a young ostrich.

وَقَد أَغتَدي وَالطَيرُ في وُكُناتِها

لِغَيثٍ مِنَ الوَسمِيِّ رائِدُهُ خالِ

Often I set out at dawn while birds are still in their nests,

for pasture sprung from the early autumn rain, its scout alone.

تَحاماهُ أَطرافُ الرِماحِ تَحامِياً

وَجادَ عَلَيهِ كُلُّ أَسحَمَ هَطّالِ

The points of spears zealously guarded it,

and every dark, pouring cloud watered it generously.

بِعَجلَزَةٍ قَد أَترَزَ الجَريُ لَحمَها

كَميتٍ كَأَنَّها هِراوَةُ مِنوالِ

Riding a powerful mare whose flesh running has hardened,

dark bay, as though she were a loom's beater.

ذَعَرتُ بِها سِرباً نَقِيّاً جُلودُهُ

وَأَكرُعُهُ وَشيُ البُرودِ مِنَ الخالِ

With her I startled a herd, clean of hide,

its legs patterned like mantles of fine striped cloth.

كَأَنَّ الصُوارَ إِذ تَجَهَّدَ عَدوُهُ

عَلى جَمَزى خَيلٍ تَجولُ بِأَجلالِ

As though the wild cattle, when their running grew strained,

were at the gallop of horses wheeling in their horsecloths.

فَجالَ الصُوارُ وَاِتَّقَينَ بِقَرهَبٍ

طَويلِ الفِرا وَالرَوقِ أَخنَسَ ذَيّالِ

The wild herd wheeled, and the cows sheltered behind a massive old bull,

long-backed and long-horned, snub-nosed and long-tailed.

فَعادى عِداءً بَينَ ثَورٍ وَنَعجَةٍ

وَكانَ عِداءُ الوَحشِ مِنّي عَلى بالِ

Then my mount overtook a bull and a cow in swift succession,

and this successive pursuit of game was what I had in mind.

كَأَنّي بِفَتخاءِ الجَناحَينِ لَقوَةٍ

صَيودٍ مِنَ العِقبانِ طَأطَأتُ شِملالي

As though I rode a broad-winged she-eagle,

a hunter among eagles, when I bent my swift mount low.

تَخَطَّفُ خَزّانَ الشُرَيَّةِ بِالضُحى

وَقَد حَجَرَت مِنها ثَعالِبُ أَورالِ

She snatches the hares of al-Shariyya in the morning,

while the foxes of Awral have hidden from her in their dens.

كَأَنَّ قُلوبَ الطَيرِ رَطباً وَيابِساً

لَدى وَكرِها العُنّابُ وَالحَشَفُ البالي

As though the birds' hearts, fresh and dry,

beside her nest were jujubes and old, shriveled dates.

فَلَو أَنَّ ما أَسعى لِأَدنى مَعيشَةٍ

كَفاني وَلَم أَطلُب قَليلٌ مِنَ المالِ

For if I strove only for the barest livelihood,

a little wealth would suffice me, and I would seek no more.

وَلَكِنَّما أَسعى لِمَجدٍ مُؤَثَّلٍ

وَقَد يُدرِكُ المَجدَ المُؤَثَّلَ أَمثالي

But I strive for firmly rooted glory,

and men like me may attain such firmly rooted glory.

وَما المَرءُ ما دامَت حُشاشَةُ نَفسِهِ

بِمُدرِكِ أَطرافِ الخُطوبِ وَلا آلي

No man, so long as a remnant of life remains in his soul,

can reach the bounds of life's trials, nor will he spare his effort.