أَلا مَن لِعَينٍ يَجِفُّ سُجومُها
تَأَوَّبُها حاجاتُها وَهُمومُها
Alas, who has an eye whose tears have dried,
She is troubled by her needs and worries.
تُوافي غُروبَ الشَمسِ في كُلِّ لَيلَةٍ
كَشَنِّ شَعيبٍ لَم تُسَدَّد هُزمُها
She accompanies the sunset every night,
Like the noisy barking of undeterred dogs.
يُذَكِّرُني لَيلى وَلَيلى مُليمَةٌ
حَمائِمُ سَرحاتٍ تَسامى خُصومُها
She reminds me of Layla, and Layla is painful,
Doves of meadows, soaring above their enemies.
وَلَيلى عَلى العِلّاتِ مِن غَيرِ فاقَةٍ
يَدَ الدَهرِ ما يَنفَكُّ يَجري بَريمُها
And Layla is high above without need,
The hand of fate does not cease to make her turn.
وَيَستَنُّ ثَوباها عَلى ظَهرِ بَيضَةٍ
تَكَعكَعَ مَمطوراً عَلَيها ظَليمُها
She smooths her clothes on the back of the sand dune,
Humbled, leaning on it with her shadow.
وَما هَيَّمَ النَهدِيُّ إِذ طالَ سُقمُهُ
بِهِندِ المَطالي ساعَةً لا أَهيمُها
The singer did not waver when his illness lingered,
For an hour at the Indus River plains.
ظَلِلنا بِذاتِ النَعفِ بَينَ عَمايَةٍ
وَخَبرائِها طَلحَي هَوىً ما نَريمُها
We took shade under the date palm between obscurities,
And its experts - Taleh loved her secretly.
تَحِنُّ بِأَعلى الهَيجِ ذي السِدرِ ناقَتي
لِعِرفانِ دارٍ قَد أَحالَت رُسومُها
My two she-camels yearn at the highest sand dune,
For a house whose landmarks have disappeared.
أَتاني عَنِ الوَضّاحِ أَمسِ مَقالَةٌ
وَفي نَفسِهِ ما كانَ يُشفى سَقيمُها
News of Al-Waddah came to me yesterday,
And in himself was an incurable sickness.
فَلا تُلحِمَنّي نَهشَلاً إِنَّ نَهشَلاً
بِدارِ الغِنى أَن يُستَحَلَّ حَريمُها
So do not blame me, as blame
In the house of wealth is improper for its sanctity.
وَمَهلاً فَإِنّي العامَ إِن أَهجُ نَشَلاً
وَجَدِّكَ لا يَسلَم عَلَيَّ أَديمُها
Wait! For if I roam in the year,
For sure, no greetings come to me from its lasting times.
وَفِيَّ لِخَبطِ النَهشَلِيِّ مُنَوَّقٌ
إِذا مَذحِجٌ حَولي تَسامَت قُرومُها
In me is the wound of the blamer's defamation,
When the slanderers gather around me.
مُرادٌ وَحَيُّ اِبنِ الحُصَينِ وَصَعبُها
وَمَرّانُ يَرمي حَولَنا وَحَريمُها
Murad, Hayy the son of Al-Husain and his lions,
And the sweeping arrows of Marwan and his harem.
وَنَحنُ بَنو حَربٍ وَأَيسارُ شَتوَةٍ
إِذا حارَدَت غُرُّ المَتالي وَكومُها
While we are the children of war, the bold of Shatawa,
When the hills of sand dunes boiled with their summits.
فَإِنَّكَ إِن تَعجِم قَناتي تَجِد بِها
دُروءاً وَتَلقَ الحَربَ باقٍ نَسيمُها
So if you make my milk-ewer gurgle, you will find in it
Repulsion, and war remains with its gentle breeze.
إِذا ما اِعوَجَجنا لَم تُقِمنا قَبيلَةٌ
وَنَحنُ إِذا شِئنا رُوَيداً نُقمُها
When we go astray, no tribe straightens us,
And when we wish to settle down, we avenge them.
أَنا الشَمسُ لَمّا أَن تَغَيَّبَ لَيلُها
وَغارَت فَما تَبدو لِعَينٍ نُجومُها
I am the sun when its night disappears
And its stars disappear from every seeing eye.
تَراها عُيونُ الناظِرينَ إِذا بَدَت
قَريباً وَلا يَسطيعُها مَن يَرومُها
The eyes of onlookers see it when it appears
Close, and no one who covets it can reach it.
أَجُرُّ خُطايَ في مَعَدٍّ وَطَيِّئٍ
وَأَغشِمُها فَليَنه نَفساً حَليمُها
I hide my sins in a gentle, calm stomach,
And repress them, so a forbearing soul overlooks them.
أَقادَت عدِيّاً قيس عَيلانَ عَنوَةً
وَفاقَت قَديماً بِالمَخازي تَميمُها
Qais ibn Ailan forcefully drove Eddie,
And its past surpassed Tameem in glory.
وَأَنّى تَعاطى يَشكُرٌ مَجدَ طَيِّئٍ
وَيَشكُرُ أَخساسٌ صَغيرٌ أَرومُها
How dare Yashkur take the glory of Tai,
While Yashkur is so lowly and insignificant?
عَدا اِبنُ حُمَيدٍ طَورَهُ وَسطَ يَشكُرٍ
وَيَشكُرُ خَوّارٌ دَنيءٌ صَميمُها
Ibn Humaid passed by Yashkur,
While Yashkur is a debased germ of its essence.
أَيَزعُمُ أَن لا يَستَديمَ وَظَهرُهُ
وَأَقرابُهُ قَد شَنَّجَتها كُلومُها
Does he claim that his back will not persist?
While his kin peeled its husks with their jawbones.
دَعِيُّ حَرامٍ وَالحَرامُ عَمارَةٌ
مُتابِعَةٌ مَن كانَ خَسفاً يَسومُها
He is forbidden, and forbidden is prosperous,
Successive, undertaken by one who determined its path.
سَأُهدي إِلى الأَذنابِ أَولادِ يَشكُرٍ
قَوافِيَ شِعرٍ لَيسَ يَنمي سَليمُها
I will send the children of Yashkur
Poetry whose rhymes do not grow properly matured.
فَإِن يَكُ خَيرَ اِبنَي رَبيعَةَ كُلِّها
فَأَلأَمُ أَهلِ الأَرضِ طُرّاً كَريمُها
If the best of the sons of Rabia were mine,
I would teach the people of the world noble manners.
