1. أَشاقَكَ بَرقٌ آخِرَ اللَيل وَاصِبُ

    تَضمَّنهُ فَرشُ الجَبَا فَالمَسارِبُ

    Did unceasing lightning late at night stir your longing?

    The plain of al-Jaba, then al-Masarib, encompassed it.

  2. يَجُرُّ وَيَستَأني نَشاصًا كَأَنَّهُ

    بِغيقَة حادٍ جَلجَلَ الصَوتَ جالِبُ

    It draws towering cloud along and lingers, as though it were

    A chanting camel-driver at Ghayqa, driving on with a ringing voice.

  3. تَأَلَّقَ واِحمَومى وَخَيَّمَ بِالرُبى

    أَحَمُّ الذُّرى ذو هَيدَبٍ مُتَراكِبُ

    It flashed, darkened, and camped upon the hills,

    Dark-crested, with trailing rain-fringes, piled in layers.

  4. إِذا حَرَّكَتهُ الريحُ أَرزَم جَانِبٌ

    بِلا هَزَقٍ مِنهُ وَأومَضَ جانِبُ

    When the wind stirs it, one side rumbles

    Without uproar from it, while another side flashes.

  5. كَما أومَضَت بالعَينِ ثُمَّ تَبَسَّمَت

    خَريعٌ بَدا مِنها جَبينٌ وَحاجِبُ

    As she flashes a glance, then smiles—

    A supple woman, her forehead and eyebrow showing.

  6. يَمُجُّ النَدى لا يَذكُرُ السَيرَ أهلُهُ

    وَلا يَرجِعُ المَاشِيُ بِهِ وَهوَ جَادِبُ

    It pours forth rain; its people never speak of moving on,

    Nor does a herdsman there return drought-stricken.

  7. وَهَبتُ لِسُعدى ماءهُ وَنَباتَهُ

    كَما كُلُّ ذي وُدٍّ لِمَن وَدَّ وَاهِبُ

    I gave Su'da its water and its herbage,

    As every loving person gives to the one he loves,

  8. لِتَروى بِهِ سُعدى وَيَروي مَحَلُّها

    وَتُغدِقَ أَعدادٌ بِهِ وَمَشارِبُ

    So Su'da may drink her fill of it, and her dwelling be watered,

    And perennial wells and watering places overflow with it.

  9. تَذَكَّرتُ سُعدَى وَالمُطيُّ كأَنَّهُ

    بِآكامِ ذِي رَيطٍ غَطاطٌ قَوارِبُ

    I remembered Su'da, and the riding camels were like

    Sandgrouse heading for water on the hills of Dhu Rayt.

  10. فَقَد فُتنَ مُلتَجًّا كَأَنَّ نَئيجَهُ

    سُعالُ جَوٍ أَعيَت عَلَيه الطَبائِبُ

    For they were sorely tried, surging onward, their groaning like

    The cough of a wasting sufferer who baffled the physicians.

  11. فَقُلتُ وَلَم أَملِكُ سَوابِقَ عَبرَةٍ

    سَقى أَهلَ بَيسانَ الدُجونُ الهَواضِبُ

    So I said, unable to restrain the first rush of tears:

    May dark, pouring clouds water the people of Baysan.

  12. وإِنِّي وَلوصَاحَ الوُشاةُ وَطَرَّبوا

    لَمُتَّخِذٌ سُعدى شَبابًا فَناسِبُ

    And I, even if the slanderers shout and sing out,

    Shall surely make Su'da the theme of love poetry, and sing of her.

  13. يَقولونَ أَجمِع مِن غُزَيزَةَ سَلوَةً

    وَكَيفَ وَهَل يَسلُو اللَجُوجُ المُطَالِبُ

    They say, "Resolve to forget Ghuzayza."

    But how? Can a stubborn pursuer forget?

  14. أَعَزُّ أَجَدَّ الرَكبُ أَن يَتَزَحزَحوا

    وَلَم يَعتَبِ الزَاري عَلَيكِ المَعاتِبُ

    O 'Azza, the caravan has resolved to move away,

    Yet your reproachful faultfinder has not been appeased.

  15. فَأُحَيي هَداكِ اللهُ مَن قَد قَتَلتِهِ

    وَعاصِي كَما يُعصى لَدَيهِ الأَقارِبُ

    So revive—may God guide you—the one you have slain,

    And be defiant, as kin are defied in his presence.

  16. وَإِنَّ طِلابي عانِسًا أُمَّ وَلدةٍ

    لَممّا تُمَنِّيني النُفوسُ الكَواذِبُ

    And indeed, my pursuit of a woman past her prime, a mother of children,

    Is surely among the hopes deceitful souls hold out to me.

  17. أَلا لَيتَ شِعري هَل تَغَيَّرَ بَعدَنا

    أَراكٌ فَصُرما قَادِمٍ فَتُناضِبُ

    Ah, if only I knew: have they changed since we left—

    Arak, then Qadim's two encampments, then Tunadib,

  18. فَبُرقُ الجَبا أَم لا فَهُنَّ كَعَهدِنا

    تنزَّى على آرامِهِنَّ الثَّعالِبُ

    Then the stony tracts of al-Jaba—or not? They are as we knew them,

    Foxes leaping upon their cairns.

  19. تَقي الله فيه أُمَّ عمروٍ ونَوّلي

    مَوَدَّتَهُ لا يَطلُبَنَّكِ طَالِبُ

    Fear God concerning him, Umm 'Amr, and requite

    His affection; let no pursuer seek you out.

  20. وَمَن لا يُغَمِّض عَينَه عَن صَديقِهِ

    وَعَن بَعضِ ما فيهِ يَمُت وَهوَ عَاتِبُ

    And whoever will not turn a blind eye to his friend

    And to some of his failings will die resentful.

  21. وَمَن يَتَتَبَّع جاهِداً كُلَّ عَثرَةٍ

    يَجِدها وَلا يَسلَم له الدّهرَ صَاحِبُ

    And whoever diligently tracks every stumble

    Will find it; no friend will remain blameless to him forever.

  22. فَلا تَأَمَنِيهِ أَن يُسِرَّ شَماتَةً

    فَيُظهِرَها إِن أَعقَبَتهُ العَواقِبُ

    So do not trust him not to harbor malicious glee,

    And reveal it if changing fortunes give him his turn.

  23. كَأَن لَم أَقُل وَاللَيلُ ناجٍ بَريدُهُ

    وَقَد غالَ أَميالَ الفِجاجِ الرَكائِبُ

    As though I had not said, while night's courier sped,

    And the riding camels had devoured the miles of the passes:

  24. خَليلَيَّ حُثّا العَيسَ نُصبِح وَقَد بَدَت

    لَنا مِن جِبَالِ الرَامَتينِ مَناكِب

    My two friends, urge on the pale camels; by dawn we shall have in sight

    Before us the shoulders of the mountains of al-Ramatayn.

  25. فَوَالله ما أَدري أآتٍ عَلى قِلىً

    وَبادي هَوانٍ مِنكُمُ وَمُغَاضِبُ

    For by God, I do not know: am I coming despite hatred,

    And open scorn from you, and angry myself?

  26. سَأَملكُ نَفسي عَنكُم إِن مَلَكتُها

    وَهَل أَغلِبَن إِلا الذي أَنا غالِبُ

    I shall hold myself back from you, if I can master myself;

    But can I master anything except what I have power over?

  27. حَلِيلَةُ قَذّافِ الدِيارِ كَأنَّهُ

    إِذا ما تَدانَينا مِن الجَيشِ هارِبُ

    The wife of a far-ranging wanderer through the lands, who seems,

    Whenever we draw near, to be fleeing an army.

  28. إِذا ما رآني بارِزاً حَالَ دُونَهَا

    بِمَخبَطَةٍ يا حُسنَ مَن هُوَ ضارِبُ

    Whenever he sees me in the open, he bars the way to her

    With a cudgel—how beautiful the one he strikes!

  29. وَلَو تُنقَبُ الأَضلاعُ أُلفِيَ تَحتَهَا

    لِسُعدى بِأَوساطِ الفُؤادِ مَضارِبُ

    And if the ribs were pierced, beneath them would be found

    Su'da's encampments in the heart's very center.

  30. بِها نَعَمٌ مِن مائِلِ الحُبِّ واضِحٌ

    بِمُجتَمَعِ الأَشرَاجِ ناءٍ وَقَارِبٌ

    In them are herds from one inclined to love, plain to see,

    Where the heartstrings meet, some far away, some near.

  31. تَضَمّنَ داءً مُنذُ عِشرينَ حِجَةً

    لَكُم ما تُسَلِّيهِ السُنونَ الكَواذِبُ

    It has harbored an illness for twenty years,

    For you; the deceptive years cannot make it forget.