ضيف ألم برأسي غير محتشم — Al Mutanabbi

ضَيفٌ أَلَمَّ بِرَأسي غَيرَ مُحتَشِمِ

وَالسَيفُ أَحسَنُ فِعلاً مِنهُ بِاللِمَمِ

A guest has alighted on my head without shame;

And the sword treats locks more kindly than he does.

إِبعِد بَعِدتَ بَياضاً لا بَياضَ لَهُ

لَأَنتَ أَسوَدُ في عَيني مِنَ الظُلَمِ

Begone—may you be far away!—whiteness with no brightness;

You are surely blacker in my eyes than darkness.

بِحُبِّ قاتِلَتي وَالشَيبِ تَغذِيَتي

هَوايَ طِفلاً وَشَيبي بالِغَ الحُلُمِ

Love of my slayer and gray hair have been my nourishment:

My passion as a child, my gray hair when I reached puberty.

فَما أَمُرُّ بِرَسمٍ لا أُسائِلُهُ

وَلا بِذاتِ خِمارٍ لا تُريقُ دَمي

So I pass no trace of a dwelling without questioning it,

Nor any veiled woman who does not spill my blood.

تَنَفَّسَت عَن وَفاءٍ غَيرِ مُنصَدِعٍ

يَومَ الرَحيلِ وَشَعبٍ غَيرِ مُلتئِمِ

She sighed, revealing a loyalty unbroken,

On departure day, and a rift unhealed.

قَبَّلتُها وَدُموعي مَزجُ أَدمُعِها

وَقَبَّلَتني عَلى خَوفٍ فَماً لِفَمِ

I kissed her, my tears mingling with hers,

And she kissed me in fear, mouth to mouth.

فَذُقتُ ماءَ حَياةٍ مِن مُقَبَّلِها

لَو صابَ تُرباً لَأَحيا سالِفَ الأُمَمِ

So I tasted the water of life from her lips;

Had it fallen on dust, it would have revived the nations of old.

تَرنو إِلَيَّ بِعَينِ الظَبيِ مُجهِشَةً

وَتَمسَحُ الطَلَّ فَوقَ الوَردِ بِالعَنَمِ

She gazes at me with a gazelle's eye, bursting into tears,

And wipes the dew upon the roses with red ʿanam twigs.

رُوَيدَ حُكمَكِ فينا غَيرَ مُنصِفَةٍ

بِالناسِ كُلِّهِمِ أَفديكِ مِن حَكَمِ

Go gently in your judgment of us, unfair one;

With all humankind I would ransom you, O judge.

أَبدَيتِ مِثلَ الَّذي أَبدَيتُ مِن جَزَعٍ

وَلَم تُجِنّي الَّذي أَجنَنتُ مِن أَلَمِ

You showed the same distress that I showed,

But you did not harbor the pain I harbored.

إِذاً لَبَزَّكَ ثَوبَ الحُسنِ أَصغَرُهُ

وَصِرتِ مِثلِيَ في ثَوبَينِ مِن سَقَمِ

Then its least part would have stripped you of beauty's robe,

And you would have been like me, in two robes of sickness.

لَيسَ التَعَلُّلُ بِالآمالِ مِن أَرَبي

وَلا القَناعَةُ بِالإِقلالِ مِن شِيَمي

Consoling myself with hopes is no desire of mine,

Nor is contentment with little one of my traits.

وَلا أَظُنُّ بَناتِ الدَهرِ تَترُكُني

حَتّى تَسُدَّ عَلَيها طُرقَها هِمَمي

Nor do I think the daughters of Time will leave me be,

Until my ambitions close their paths against them.

لُمِ اللَيالي الَّتي أَخنَت عَلى جِدَتي

بِرِقَّةِ الحالِ وَاِعذُرني وَلا تَلُمِ

Blame the nights that ravaged my wealth,

Through straitened circumstances; excuse me, and do not blame me.

أَرى أُناساً وَمَحصولي عَلى غَنَمٍ

وَذِكرَ جودٍ وَمَحصولي عَلى الكَلِمِ

I see people, yet all I find are sheep,

And talk of generosity, yet all I get is words.

وَرَبَّ مالٍ فَقيراً مِن مُروَّتِهِ

لَم يُثرِ مِنها كَما أَثرى مِنَ العَدَمِ

And a possessor of wealth, poor in noble character,

Who has not grown rich in it as he has grown rich from poverty.

سَيَصحَبُ النَصلُ مِنّي مِثلَ مَضرِبِهِ

وَيَنجَلي خَبَري عَن صِمَّةِ الصِمَمِ

The blade will find in me a companion like its own cutting edge,

And my story will reveal a champion of champions.

لَقَد تَصَبَّرتُ حَتّى لاتَ مُصطَبَرٍ

فَالآنَ أُقحِمُ حَتّى لاتَ مُقتَحَمِ

I have forced myself to endure until no endurance remained;

Now I charge headlong until no ground remains to storm.

لَأَترُكَنَّ وُجوهَ الخَيلِ ساهِمَةً

وَالحَربُ أَقوَمُ مِن ساقٍ عَلى قَدَمِ

I will surely leave the horses' faces gaunt,

While war stands firmer than a leg upon a foot.

وَالطَعنُ يُحرِقُها وَالزَجرُ يُقلِقُها

حَتّى كَأَنَّ بِها ضَرباً مِنَ اللَمَمِ

And spear-thrusts sear them, and shouted commands unsettle them,

Until it is as though a kind of madness has seized them.

قَد كَلَّمَتها العَوالي فَهيَ كالِحَةٌ

كَأَنَّما الصابُ مَعصوبٌ عَلى اللُجُمِ

The spearheads have wounded them, so they bare their teeth,

As though bitter ṣāb were bound upon the bridles.

بِكُلِّ مُنصَلِتٍ ما زالَ مُنتَظِري

حَتّى أَدَلتُ لَهُ مِن دَولَةِ الخَدَمِ

With every daring warrior who never ceased awaiting me,

Until I gave him victory over the servants' rule:

شَيخٍ يَرى الصَلَواتِ الخَمسَ نافِلَةً

وَيَستَحِلُّ دَمَ الحُجّاجِ في الحَرَمِ

An elder who deems the five prayers voluntary,

And deems pilgrims' blood lawful in the Sanctuary.

وَكُلَّما نُطِحَت تَحتَ العَجاجِ بِهِ

أُسدُ الكَتائِبِ رامَتهُ وَلَم يَرِمِ

And whenever, beneath the dust, they were rammed against him—

The lions of the battalions—they assailed him, but he did not budge.

تُنسى البِلادَ بُروقَ الجَرِّ بارِقَتي

وَتَكتَفي بِالدَمِ الجاري عَنِ الدِيَمِ

My lightning makes the lands forget the flashes of rain clouds,

And they find flowing blood enough in place of steady rains.

رِدي حِياضَ الرَدى يا نَفسُ وَاِتَّرِكي

حِياضَ خَوفِ الرَدى لِلشاءِ وَالنِعَمِ

Go to the pools of death, O soul, and leave

The pools of fear of death to sheep and livestock.

إِن لَم أَذَركِ عَلى الأَرماحِ سائِلَةً

فَلا دُعيتُ اِبنَ أُمِّ المَجدِ وَالكَرَمِ

If I do not leave you flowing upon the lances,

Then may I not be called son of the mother of glory and generosity.

أَيَملِكُ المُلكَ وَالأَسيافُ ظامِئَةٌ

وَالطَيرُ جائِعَةٌ لَحمٌ عَلى وَضَمِ

Can he hold the kingdom while the swords are thirsty,

And birds are hungry—meat upon a butcher's block—

مَن لَو رَآنِيَ ماءً ماتَ مِن ظَمَأٍ

وَلَو مَثَلتُ لَهُ في النَومِ لَم يَنَمِ

One who would die of thirst if he saw me as water,

And would not sleep if I appeared to him in a dream?

ميعادُ كُلِّ رَقيقِ الشَفرَتَينِ غَداً

وَمَن عَصى مِن مُلوكِ العُربِ وَالعَجَمِ

Tomorrow is the rendezvous of every keen, double-edged blade

And whoever rebels among the kings of Arabs and non-Arabs.

فَإِن أَجابوا فَما قَصدي بِها لَهُمُ

وَإِن تَوَلَّوا فَما أَرضى لَها بِهِمِ

If they answer, I do not mean these blades for them;

And if they turn away, I deem them unworthy of my blades.