هَل كُنتَ في مَنظَرٍ وَمُستَمِعٍ

عِن نَصرِ بَهراء غَير ذي فَرَسِ

Were you a spectator and listener

To the victory of the radiant Bahra

تَسعى إَلى فَتيةِ الأَراقِمِ وَاِس

تَعجَلتَ قيلَ الجُمانِ وَالقَبَسِ

Rushing to the young men of numbers and pegs

You hastened before the full moons and torches

في عارِضٍ مِن جبالِ بِهرا بِها ال

ألّ مَرَينَ الحُروبَ عَن دُرَسِ

On a plain of the mountains of Bihrah adorned

But the wars taught a lesson

مُنتَهزاً مَن لَقوا حَسِبتَهُم

أَحلى وَأَشهى مِن بارِدِ الدِبسِ

Seizing whoever you met, you deemed them

Sweeter and more delicious than cool date syrup

لا تِرَهٌ عندَهُم فَتَطلُبها

وَلا هُم نُهزَةٌ لِمُختَلِسِ

They have no slave girls for you to seek

Nor are they spoils for a plunderer

جودٌ كِرامٌ إِذا هُم نُدِبوا

غَيرُ لِئامٍ ضُجرٍ وَلا كُبُسُ

Generosity and nobility when called upon

Not miserable, sullen or downcast

صُمتٌ عِذامُ الحُلومِ إِن قَعَدوا

مِن غَيرِ عَيٍّ بِهِم وَلا خَرَسِ

Silent with sweet dispositions when seated

Without any flaw in them or dumbness

تَقوتُ أَفراسهم نِساؤُهُم

يَزجونَ أَجمالَهُم معَ الغَلَسِ

Their horses are fed by their women

Who drive their camels with the caravan

صادَفت لَما خَرَجت مُنطَلِقاً

جَهمَ المُحَيّا كَباسِلٍ شَرِسِ

When I set out I met

Jahm the brave like a ferocious lion

فَجالَ في كَفِّهِ مُثقَّفَةٌ

تَلمَعُ فيها كَشُعلَةِ القَبَسِ

In his hand a cultivated

Gleaming in it like the flame of a torch

بِكَفٍّ حَرّانٍ ثائِرٍ بِدَمٍ

طَلّابِ وَترٍ في المَوتِ مُنغَمِسِ

With a burning hand raging with blood

Seekers of lute strings plunged in death

إِمّا تَقارَش بِكَ الرِماحُ فَلا

أُبكيكَ إِلّا لِلدَلوِ وَالمَرَسِ

Either the spears will clash with you and I won’t

Mourn you except for the bucket and pulley

حَمِدتَ أَمري وَلُمتَ أَمرَكَ إِذ

أَمسك جَلزُ السِنانِ بِالنَفسِ

You praised my matter and censured yours when

The fiery coals clung to the soul

وَقَد تَصَلَّيت حَرَّ نارِهِمُ

كَما تَصَلّى المَقرورُ مِن قَرَسِ

And I prayed the heat of their fire

As the branded one prays from the sheep marked by slitting the ears

تَذبُّ عَنهُ كَفٌّ بِها رَمَقٌ

طَيراً عُكوفاً كَزُوَّرِ العُرُسِ

A hand defends him in which there is still life

A bird harboring as the shame of the wedding feast

عَمّا قَليلٍ عَلَونَ جُثَّتَهُ

فَهُنَّ مِن والِغٍ وَمُنتَهِسِ

In a little while they went above his body

For they were from a wailing woman and a mourner