ما ضر ليلتنا بسفح محجر — Al Sari Al Raffa

What harm would it have done our night on Muḥajjir's slope

had it delayed the journey of the radiant morning?

All night the embrace shook, from our flanks,

two branches in youth's green foliage.

Two lovers, whose drink in thirst was wine,

and whose harvest was the blossom of radiant conversation.

Do not deny the fluttering of a throbbing heart

that graceful, skittish gazelles carried off in flight.

An honor among the days—a blessed day,

through which the two soothed the heat of blazing heartache.

How wondrous the departing nights! They

departed with life's sweetness in the swiftest departure.

For them [text unclear], I keep a yearning lover's sigh whenever there pass

memories of them, and the moan of one who remembers.

And many a cupbearer whose hand crowned mine

with a cup of the red ruby of wine.

And many an innocent girl: I openly defied love's jealous one

by union with her, enjoying bliss without being imperiled.

In days when my cloak exceeded my height,

and trailed through youth's approved ways and its forbidden ones.

And gardens whose mantles' embroidery captivates you,

until for their sake you revile the fine fabrics of ʿAbqar.

The breeze flows through them, as though

the trailing ends of its cloak had been dipped in ambergris.

The hearts of drought beat among them through the night,

like the fluttering banners of rain-bearing clouds,

from every cloud with far-flung flanks, veiled

in lightning, its two fringes hanging low, displayed.

Its pregnant she-camels are driven by thunder's tongues,

and travel between a singer and a roarer.

The streak of its lightning flew, as though

it cleft its musk-dark cloud with safflower color.

So the garden is now girdled, now gold-spangled,

within them, now striped, now brocaded.

And the pools throughout it are polished,

like dirhams gleaming where they lie scattered.

And as though before their radiant flowers there appeared

the prince's hand, with a surging rain-cloud.

A king who, whenever he extends five fingers

in generosity, five seas overflow through them.

You meet him in terror as a knight of battle,

in its straits, and in peace as a knight of the pulpit.

His clouds weep while his cheerful face laughs,

so his largesse comes from one who laughs while shedding tears.

A branch sprung from a great ʿAdawī tree,

it and generosity have branched from one stock.

His gifts restored his ally, while

his swords plundered the tyrant's tyranny.

Like a shooting star that lit one people's encampment

with its burning, and struck another people's encampment.

A nobility that tells whoever opposes him, 'Despair!'

and an eminence that tells whoever vies with him, 'Lose!'

And a hand in whose kindness all people are equal,

so the poor man's hand reaches it, and the rich man's too.

O mighty Taghlib, you have surpassed, through his bounty

and his lineage, the summits of the stars; take pride

in one wearing the collar of praises, trailing

the mantle of noble deeds, bracelet-adorned with acclaim.

And a radiant warrior, intent upon the ranks, splitting them,

and sword-edges split the opening of the mail hood.

Charging has worn his weapon down: his blows

are with a notched blade, his thrusts with a broken spear.

May a blessing inhabit your abode, Abū al-Hayjāʾ,

linked to you for the lifetime of seven eagles,

and may sweet-scented rain give you drink, as though

the pools of al-Kawthar poured it down upon you.

You made my night sleepless when you reproached me; I tasted no

slumber—and whoever you reproach stays awake.

Had you not been estranged from me, I would not

have condemned the hostile turns of circumstance.

And when assailed by the reproach of one like you, I am betrayed by

my endurance: I neither bear it nor make myself bear it.

Have you forgotten the radiant praises I adorned

with your eminence, enduring as long as the ages?

They come to you at morning with a full-breasted maiden of praise,

beloved, and leave you at evening with a rain-ready cloud.

Wondrous creations whose fragrance wafts, as though

their pages were written in heady musk.

This, though I did no evil to reap

anger, nor spoke foully before you to be shunned.

Rather, I have indeed committed the gravest of sins,

and hoped for your pardon: pardon me and forgive.

For with his arrows he deliberately targeted my weak point—

a slanderer who deliberately assailed me with malicious testimony.

O lord of princes, I called upon you in gratitude;

whether you give or withhold, your kindness deserves thanks.

And one made victorious by your hands' bounty—had he gone forth

praising someone other than you, he would have returned without victory.

Mars kindled for him the embers of its malign influences,

and Jupiter's auspicious influences vanished from him.

Calamities sent flying over him the flame of a white sword,

sharp-edged, or the spark of a dusky spear.

And a tawny flame hurled him about; you would think its mantle

was torn from the coloring of a chestnut steed.

It hurls reddened sparks, as though

its sides were being pelted with red roses.

It clothed him in silken coats,

yellow, some unfastened, some buttoned.

So Time marvels at him: when it touched him

with a lesser hell, he did not crack apart.

It was an illness, a straightening clamp for a well-shaped spear,

supple when shaken, or the polishing of a steel blade.

A crown like the full moon, its radiance returned

after the eclipse, delighting the beholder's eye.

Or like a cutting sword whose back the polishers burnished

until the water of its steel shimmered.

Indeed, when gold is smelted time after time,

the gold grows pure and more radiant to the eye.

Let enemies waste away in sorrow, or let them give thanks,

for they predicted for him what was not decreed.