عَجِبتُ كُلَّ العَجَبِ
مِن سَيرِ هذا المَركَبِ
I am filled with wonder
At the sailing of this ship
وَما لَهُ عَينٌ وَلا
روحٌ جَرَت في عَصَبِ
Though it has no eyes or
Spirit flowing through its veins
لِجامُهُ مِن خَلفِهِ
مُرَكَّبٌ في الذَنَبِ
Its rudder is attached
To its rear end
مُزَيَّنٌ بِالوَدعِ في ال
صَدرِ وَرَمعِ العَذَبِ
Adorned with calm in its
Chest and gleaming elegance
وَمالَهُ مِن ثَفَرٍ
وَمالَهُ مِن لَبَبِ
It has no lips or
Articulate speech
سِياطُهُ في سَيرِهِ
دَفعُ مَرادي الخَشَبِ
Its whips propel it
According to my desires
إِذا اِستَحَثَّتهُ مَجا
ذيفٌ لَهُ في الطَلَبِ
When its sails are stirred
By the winds pursuing it
أَعنَقَ فَوقَ الماءِ في
هَملَجَةٍ أَو خَبَبِ
It rears up over the water
Snorting and bellowing
لِلماءِ في حَيزومِهِ
مِن صَوتِ مُوجٍ صَخِبِ
The water in its nozzle
Roars like tumultuous waves
حَشرَجَةٌ كَالرَعدِ في
عارِضِ غَيثٍ لَجِبِ
Thundering as when
Heavy rains pour down
يَنسابُ كَالحَيَّةِ في
عَطفِ ذُنابي العَقرَبِ
It glides like a snake
Slithering sideways
لَهُ شِراعٌ مُشرِفٌ
كَالبَندِ يَومَ الشَغَبِ
With a towering sail
Like a banner on a day of turmoil
مُنتَصِبٌ تَجذُبُهُ ال
أَرسانُ جَذبَ الطُنُبِ
Standing erect, pulled
By the anchors, as rope is pulled
لِلرّيحِ فيهَ حَنَّةٌ
مِن جَريِهِ المُنجَذِبِ
The wind makes it hum
As it is drawn swiftly along
فُرسانُهُ الأَنباطُ مِن
مَيسانَ أَهلِ الرِيَبِ
Its riders are the Anbat,
Devious people
وَكُلُّهُم مَنطِقُهُ
عِندَ الرِضا بِالغَضَبِ
Their speech at the point
Of contentment is wrath
وَالخَيرُ وَالشَرُّ سَوا
ءٌ عِندَهُ في سَبَبِ
Good and evil are equal
To them in every respect
فَاِرمِ بِعَينَيكَ إِلى ال
شَطَّينِ عِندَ الكُثُبِ
Cast your eyes along the banks
Where at high tide
تَرى رِجالاً رُكَّعاً
في جَريِهِم كَالحُدُبِ
You see men bent over
As they race like hunchbacks
يَقفونَ آثاراً عَلى
جَذبَةِ خَيطِ القُنَّبِ
Following the wake
Of a hemp rope’s pull
كَأَنَّهُم في وَهَقِ ال
أتراكِ عِندَ الهَرَبِ
As if they were Turks
In headlong flight
إِذا اِستَراحوا فَهُمُ
في راحَةٍ مِن تَعَبِ
When they rest, their rest
Is from exhaustion
عالِيَةٌ أَصواتُهُم
عِندَ الغِناءِ المُطرِبِ
Loud are their voices
When they sing cheerfully
بِماءِ بانا كُلُّهُم
لا بِلِسانِ العَرَبِ
All speaking the tongue
Not of the Arabs, but of Bana
