وفيت لمن لم يلف حبا فما وفى — Al Staley

I kept faith with one who proved no loving friend, and he kept none.

And I dealt fairly with one who, had he been lovesick, would have been fair.

I became enamored of a beloved whose coyness was dear to me.

For him, in love, visiting or shunning was all the same.

A slender bān bough swayed amid graceful curves;

Her heart, a solid rock, refused to soften.

O you who saw the full moon with languid eyelids,

And beheld it, earring-adorned, in the gazelle's face!

And oh, may God strike down passion—what a bond

That beguiles the tormented, love-crazed man with delusion!

And may He strike down those pampered maidens of equal age: whenever

They appeared, they vied to plunder the love-stricken heart.

They veiled themselves, revealing only telltale signs:

Dark eye-sockets, or fingers dyed at the tips.

They swayed, setting supple boughs swaying,

Wearing and trailing striped silk.

They hunted us from every passing herd,

With loveliness surpassing the gazelle's [text unclear], and rarer charm.

How delightful were youth's days and our gathering

In companionship—ah, wholly devoted to pleasure [wording unclear].

Those nights when separation never cut off our meetings,

And days when parting never hurled us far away;

And a dwelling where we stayed at evening and morning,

And a home we inhabited in spring and summer.

In youth, one is admired for one's devotion

To pleasure, and goes unblamed even when living in luxury.

He finds his sweetest life in a boon companion and a garden,

A songstress singing, and tawny, shiver-inducing wine.

When it deposits its spirit in the bottle's body,

And he shares it with the slender, downcast-eyed one,

He yielded to desire while youth's bough swayed, finding

Scope to wander among the bonds of passion,

Until gray hair came and youth departed,

Taking my excuse away; I became the blamed and rebuked.

Nothing remained but sober wisdom beneath regret;

Together they decreed that the soul must grieve.

For the soul persisted and would not desist,

And the heart's consolations dragged on without a cure.

How beautiful the world is, and how sweet its bliss

To us, though it is delusion and glitter!

By your life, whatever trait a man is given

And holds to cannot fail to reveal itself.

You see every striver, wrongdoer or benefactor,

Heading toward an end where he is repaid for what he sent ahead.

My dear brother, prosperity has [unclear verb]; all you can do

Is be content, even while refusing to beg.

Choose, then, what you wish: either staying

And bearing patiently, or traveling on foot and roaming.

May life-giving rain water those Aʿwajī mounts,

That fulfill needs and bring a familiar haven near:

Young she-camels like ostriches, speeding across the wastes,

When the camel-driver urges them into a trot and a gallop.

They carried the arriving pilgrims by night and through midday heat,

And brought Dhuhl to Mecca's heart as an ornament [reading uncertain],

A father of goodwill and generosity, by nature and habit,

In word and deed, in emulation and as a model to follow.

The finest of those who answered the pilgrim call, circled, and hastened

By the Stone, the waterspout, the Corner, and al-Safa;

And the best of those consecrated for pilgrimage,

The most splendid to reach Mina and the standing-place at Arafat.

When he had completed, in his hajj and his umrah,

The rites, visiting one sacred station after another,

And resolved on farewell and departure, setting out at dawn,

He went on traversing the trackless wilderness,

And tasked every swift she-camel with folding up the wastes,

Sturdy beasts, until he exhausted them and wore them thin.

Dhuhl wrapped himself in midday heat and darkness,

And, pressing far onward, endured rough ground and level plains.

He journeyed on until, in Samad, he reached his

Abode of generosity and his summer dwelling,

To enrich a deprived man and give to a petitioner,

To be looked to for righteous deeds and sought for bounty.

Then bright stars of goodness rose,

And he raised clouds of generosity pouring rain.

Abu al-Hasan, reviver of lofty glory—he is the one

Who healed it when it stood on the brink of ruin.

Were it not for Dhuhl's bounty and his noble deeds,

The dwelling of virtues would by now have been effaced.

Lavish in favors, he counts as his share

Of wealth only what he bestows and spends away.

Discerning in distributing wealth among its proper uses,

To those entitled to it, even if people call him extravagant;

A benefactor when the miser withholds his aid,

A rescuer when the stars' rain-season fails.

His habitual kindness precedes his promises,

And his fine nature spares him the need to force it.

Chief of Banu Nabhan, the lord

In whom refuge is sought from every trouble, and sufficient help is found;

One of the ʿAtakiyyun, whom

Their deeds have lodged in a lofty, impregnable house.

They readied for it, and thus defended it from foes,

Thoroughbred, full-grown steeds and straightened spear-shafts.

Abu Hasan, how fine are the qualities

You were granted—how sweet, pure, and gracious!

I found you singled out for every virtue,

And worthy of being praised and described in eulogy.

And at every moment you strive for nearness

To God, increasing only in closeness.

And you are the one we meet as a raincloud in generosity,

A lion in danger, and a sharpened blade in judgment.

You are not one who, when he resolves, delays his purpose,

Nor one who procrastinates when a matter presents itself.

May you be spared time's misfortunes and harm,

And rewarded for patience with multiplied recompense [reading uncertain].

May you be granted your wishes in your noble sons,

All together, and protected from the feared calamity.

And take her, a virgin among necklaces,

Who makes a tunic and mantle of brocade fade.