أقريش لا فلم أراك ولا يد — Mihyar Al Daylami

أقريشُ لا فلمٍ أراك ولا يدِ

فتواكلي غاض الندَى وخلا النَّدي

O Quraysh, I see you with neither mouth nor hand.

So leave matters to others: bounty has ebbed, and the assembly is empty.

خولستِ فالتفتي بأوقصَ واسئلي

من بزَّ ظهرَك وانظري من أرمدِ

You were robbed unawares: turn toward Awqas and ask

who stripped your back, and see who has laid you waste.

وهبي الذُّحولَ فلستِ رائدَ حاجةٍ

تُقضَى بمطرورٍ ولا بمهنّدِ

Forgo old blood-feuds: you can no longer seek a need

fulfilled by a sharpened spear or an Indian blade.

خلاّكِ ذو الحسبين أنقاضاً متى

تُجذَبْ على حبل المذلَّةِ تَنقَدِ

He of the two noble lineages left you worn-out camels: whenever

you are tugged by humiliation's rope, you follow.

قَمرُ الدُّنَا أضحت سماؤكِ بعده

أرضاً تداسُ بحائرٍ وبمهتدي

The moon of the worlds—after him, your sky became

earth trodden by the bewildered and the guided alike.

فإذا تشادقت الخصومُ فلجلجي

وإذا تصادمت الكماةُ فعرِّدي

When adversaries speak bombastically, then stammer;

and when champions clash, then flee.

يا ناشدَ الحسناتِ طوَّف فالياً

عنها وعاد كأنه لم يَنشُدِ

O seeker of noble deeds, who roamed, searching closely

for them, then returned as though you had never sought:

اِهبِط إلى مُضرٍ فسل حَمراءَهَا

مَن صاح بالبطحاء يا نارُ اخمدي

go down to Mudar and ask its red flame

who cried in al-Batha, ‘O fire, die out!’

بَكَر النعيُّ فقال أُردِيَ خيرُها

إن كان يصدُقُ فالرضيُّ هو الرَّدِي

The death-announcer came early and said, ‘Its finest has been laid low.’

If he speaks truth, al-Radi is the one laid low.

عادت أراكةُ هاشم من بعده

خَوَر الفأسِ الحاطبِ المتوقِّدِ

After him, Hashim's arak tree became

easy prey for the eager woodcutter's axe.

فُجعتْ بمعجزِ آيةٍ مشهودةٍ

ولربَّ آياتٍ لها لم تُشهَدِ

It was bereaved of a miraculous, manifest sign,

though many of its signs have never been witnessed.

كانت إذا هي في الإمامةِ نوزعتْ

ثم ادعت بك حقَّها لم تُجحدِ

Whenever its right to the imamate was contested,

then it claimed its right through you, it met no denial.

رَضِيَ الموافقُ والمخالفُ رغبةً

بك واقتدى الغاوي برأي المرشِدِ

Ally and opponent willingly assented

for your sake; the wayward followed the guide's counsel.

ما أحرزت قصباتِها وتراهنتْ

إلا ظهرتَ بفضلةٍ من سؤدُدِ

Never did it secure its racing prizes and compete

without your emerging with an extra measure of eminence.

تَبعتكَ عاقدةً عليك أمورَها

وعُرَى تميمِك بعدُ لمّا تُعقَدِ

It followed you, binding its affairs to you,

while your amulet's cords were not yet knotted.

ورآكَ طفلاً شِيبُها وكهولها

فتزحزحوا لك عن مكان السيِّدِ

Its graybeards and middle-aged men saw you as a child,

and moved aside for you from the chief's place.

أنفقتَ عمرَك ضائعاً في حفظها

وعققت عيشَك في صلاح المفسدِ

You spent your life in vain protecting it,

and wronged your own life in reforming the corrupt.

كالنار للساري الهدايةُ والقِرَى

من ضوئها ودخانُها للمُوقِدِ

Like fire: the night-traveler receives guidance and hospitality

from its light, while its smoke falls to the kindler.

مَن راكبٌ يسع الهمومَ فؤادُهُ

وتُناط منه بقارحٍ متعوِّدِ

Where is a rider whose heart can bear these cares,

and who, seasoned and practiced, can be entrusted with them?

ألف التطوّح فهو ما هددته

يفري فيافي البيدِ غيرَ مهدَّدِ

Accustomed to far wandering, however you threaten him,

he cleaves the desert's wastes, undaunted.

يطوي المياهَ على الظما وكأنه

عنها يَضِلّ وإنّه لَلْمهتدي

He passes waterholes by in thirst, as though

he had lost his way to them—though he knows the way full well.

صُلُب الحصاة يثورُ غير مودَّع

عن أهله ويسير غير مزوَّدِ

Firm of mind, he sets out without farewell

from his family, and travels without provisions.

عَدِلت جَوِيَّتُهُ على ابن مفازةٍ

مستقربٍ أَمَمَ الطريق الأبعدِ

His saddle sits balanced on a desert-born mount,

which reckons the farthest road ahead close at hand.

يجري على أَثَرِ الدِّرابِ كأنه

يمشي على صَرْحٍ بهنّ مُمرَّدِ

It runs along the tracks of mountain passes, as though

walking among them on a smoothly paved court.

يغشى الوهادَ بمثلها من مَهبِطٍ

ورُبَا الهضابِ بمثلها من مَصعَدِ

It meets the valleys with descents to match,

and the rises of the hills with climbs to match.

قَرِّبْ قُربتَ من التلاع فإنها

أمّ المناسك مثلُها لم يُقصَدِ

Draw near—may you be brought near—to the hillocks, for they are

the mother of sacred sites, whose like was never sought.

دأبا به حتى تُريحَ بيثربٍ

فتنيخَه نِقْضاً بباب المسجدِ

Press on tirelessly with it until you rest in Yathrib,

then make it kneel, exhausted, at the mosque's door.

واحثُ التراب على شحوبك حاسراً

وانزِلْ فعزِّ محمّداً بمحمّدِ

Scatter dust upon your pallor, bareheaded,

and dismount; console Muhammad for the loss of Muhammad.

وقل انطوى حتّى كأنك لم تلدْ

منه الهدى وكأنّه لم يولَدِ

And say: he has passed away, as though you never begot

guidance through him, as though he had never been born.

نزلت بأمّتك المضاعة في ابنك ال

مفقودِ بنتُ العَنقَفيِرِ المُؤْيِدِ

There descended upon your neglected community, in your son, the

lost one, the daughter of mighty al-Anqafir.

طرقَتْه تأخذُ ما اصطفتْه ولا تَرِي

مكراً وتقتلُ من نَحتْه ولا تَدِي

She came upon him by night, taking what she chose, showing no

deceit, and killing whom she targeted without paying blood-money.

نشكو إليك وَقود جاحمها وإن

كانت تخصّك بالمُلِظِّ المكمِدِ

We complain to you of her blazing fire's burning, though

she singles you out for unrelenting, crushing grief.

بكت السماءُ له وودّت أنها

فقدت غزالتَها ولمّا يُفقدِ

Heaven wept for him and wished that it

had lost its sun rather than lose him.

والأرضُ وابن الحاج سُدّتْ سُبْلُهُ

والمجدُ ضيم فما له من مُنجِدِ

And the earth, and the pilgrim's son, whose paths were blocked,

and glory, wronged, with no one to succor it.

وبَكاك يومُك إذ جرتْ أخبارُهُ

تَرَحاً وسُمِّيَ بالعبوس الأنكدِ

Your day wept for you when its tidings spread,

in sorrow, and was called grim and ill-starred.

صبغتْ وفاتُك فيه أبيضَ فجره

يا لَلْعيون من الصباح الأسودِ

On it, your death dyed the white of its dawn—

alas for the eyes, at that black morning!

إن تُمِس بعد تزاحمِ الغاشين مه

جوراً بمَطرحَةِ الغريبِ المُفرَدِ

If, after visitors thronged about you, you lie

abandoned where the solitary stranger is cast aside,

فالدهرُ ألأمُ ما علمتَ وأهلُه

من أن تروحَ عشيرَهم أو تغتدي

then time and its people are, as you know, too base

for you to join their company at evening or at dawn.

ولئن غُمِزت من الزمان بليِّنٍ

عن عَجْمِ مثلِكَ أو عُضضت بأدردِ

Though time pressed you with a hand too soft

to test one like you, or you were bitten by a toothless mouth,

فالسيفُ يأخذُ حُكمَهُ من مِغفَر

وطُلىً ويأخذُ منه سِنُّ المِبرَدِ

the sword exacts its due from a mail hood

and throats; yet the file's tooth exacts its due from it.

لو كان يعقِلُ لم تنلْك له يدٌ

لكن أصابك منه مجنونُ اليدِ

Had time been rational, no hand of its would have reached you;

but it struck you with a maddened hand.

قد كان لي بطريفِ مجدكِ سلوةٌ

عن سالفٍ من مجدِ قومِك مُتلَدِ

In your newly won glory I found consolation

for your people's bygone, ancestral glory.

فكأنكم ومدىً بعيدٌ بينكم

يومَ افتقدتُكَ زٌلتُمُ عن مَوعِدِ

It was as though all of you, though a vast span lay between you,

had departed by appointment on the day I lost you.

يا مثكلاً أمَّ الفضائلِ مُورثاً

يُتماً بناتِ القاطناتِ الشُّرَّدِ

O you who bereaved the mother of virtues, bequeathing

orphanhood to the daughters of the abiding, far-roaming ones.

خلاّفتهنَّ بما رضينك ناظماً

ما بين كلّ مُزَجِّرٍ ومُقَصِّدِ

You left them behind, though they had chosen you as poet,

among every shouting chanter and maker of odes.

فُتِحتْ بهنّ وقد عدمتُكَ ناقداً

أفواهُ زائفةِ اللُّهى م تُنقَدِ

Over them have opened—now that I have lost you as critic—

counterfeit-palated mouths, never assayed.

ورُثيتَ حتّى لو فَرقتَ مميِّزاً

راثيك من هاجيك لم تَستَبعِدِ

You were so elegized that, if you distinguished

your elegist from your satirist, you would not find them far apart.

غادرتني فيهم بما أبغضتُهُ

أدعو البيوعَ إلى متاعٍ مُكسَدِ

You left me among them with what I most hated:

calling dealers to unsalable wares.

أشكو انفراد الواحدِ الساري بلا

أُنسٍ وإن أحرزتُ سَبقَ الأوحدِ

I lament the solitude of one who travels by night without

companionship, though I have won unrivaled precedence.

وإذا حفِظتُك باكياً ومؤبِّناً

عابوا عليك تفجُّعي وتلدُّدي

And when I honor your memory, weeping and eulogizing,

they fault you for my anguish and restless grief.

أحسنتُ فيك فساءهم تقصيرُهم

ذَنْبُ المصيبِ إلى المغيرِ المُعضِدِ

I did you justice; their own shortcomings vexed them—

the true marksman's fault before the erring, wide-shooting archer.

كانوا الصديقَ رددتَهم لي حُسَّداً

صلَّى الإلهُ على مكثِّر حُسَّدي

They were friends; you turned them into my enviers.

May God bless the one who multiplied my enviers!

يغترُّ فيك الشامتون وإنه

يومٌ هُمُ رهنٌ عليه إلى غدِ

The gloaters are deluded about you; indeed, this is

a day that holds them too in pledge until tomorrow.

وسيسبروني كيف قطعُ مُجرَّدي

إن كان حَزَّ ولم يُعمِّقْ مُغمَدي

They will test me, to see how my unsheathed blade cuts,

if my sheathed one has gashed without cutting deep.

وتُثير عارمةُ الرياح سحابتي

من مُبرِقٍ في فضلِ وصفك مُرعِدِ

And the raging winds rouse my cloud,

flashing and thundering in the fullness of your praise.

فتفَتْ بذكرِك فأرها فتفاوحت

نعما تَأَرَّجُ لي بِطيب المولدِ

At your remembrance its musk-pods crumbled, and there wafted

blessings, fragrant to me with the sweetness of their birth.

تزداد طولاً ما استراحت فإنني

أرثيك بعدُ وحُرقتي لم تَبرُدِ

It grows longer with every rest, for I

still elegize you, and my burning grief has not cooled.

ماء الأسى متصبب لي لم يَغِضْ

في صحن خدٍّ بالبكاء مُخَدَّدِ

The water of grief pours from me and has not ebbed

over a cheek's expanse, furrowed by weeping.

لو قد رأيتَ مع الدموع جدوبَهُ

فرطَ الزفيرِ عجبتَ للراوي الصَّدِي

Had you seen its barrenness amid the tears,

from excessive sighing, you would marvel at one drenched yet thirsty.

لا غيَّرتْكَ جَنائبٌ تحت البلى

وكساك طِيبُ البيت طيبَ المَلحدِ

May no south winds change you beneath decay,

and may your house's fragrance robe you in fragrance in the tomb.

وقَرُبتَ لا تَبعُدْ وإن علالةً

للنفس زوراً قَوْلتي لا تَبعُدِ

May you be near, not far—though mere consolation

for my soul, a falsehood, is my saying, ‘Be not far.’