ومُنخرِقٍ عَن مَنكِبَيهِ قَميصُهُ

وَعَن ساعِدَيه لِلأَخِلّاءِ واصِلِ

His shirt torn at the shoulders,

And from his arms to the wastrels ever generous,

إذا طالَ بالقومِ المَطا في تنوفَةٍ

وطولُ السُرى ألفيتَه غيرَ ناكِلِ

When people prolonged their visit over cups in circles,

You'd find him still pouring though all had their fill.

دَعَوتُ وقد دَبَّ الكَرى في عظامهِ

وفي راسِهِ حتى جَرى في المفاصِلِ

I called him when sorrow crept into his bones,

And drenched his head till it pierced his very joints,

كما دَبَّ صافي الخمرِ في مُخِّ شارِبٍ

يميلُ بِعِطفَيهِ عن اللُبِّ ذاهِلِ

As pure wine soaks to the inner core of the drinker

Who lingers still though the first joy has declined.

فَلَبّى لِيَثنيني بِثَنيِ لسانهِ

ثَقيلَيهِ من نَومٍ غَلوبِ الغياطلِ

He answered as my request his heavy tongue could hardly utter,

Drowsy with the languor born of Mercedes' toils.

فقُلتُ لهُ قُل فاتَحِل لَيس ها هنا

سوى وَقفَةِ الساري مُناخٌ لنازِلِ

I said: Speak up, and travel gear prepare, for this is not

A place to rest but a pausing site for travellers moving on.

فَقامَ اهتزازَ الرُمحِ يسرو قميصَهُ

وَيَحسُرُ عن عاري الذراعَين ناحِلِ

He rose shaking his spear, and doffing his shirt,

Baring arms grown hairy and sinewy with work.