أَما حَيّاكُمُ عَبقُ النَّسيمِ
فَيُخبِرُ عَن ثَرى تِلكَ الرُّسومِ
The morning breeze's fragrance greets you,
Telling of the soil where those ruins lie,
وَتُنجِدُهُ الذَّوافِرُ حينَ تُرخى
عَلَيهِ ذَوائِبُ اللَّيلِ البَهيمِ
The singing birds assist it when released
At nightfall by the twisting winds on high.
أَما ذا البَرقُ بَيضُ بَني عَدِيٍّ
فَكَيفَ رَمى فُؤادَكَ بِالهُمومِ
That lightning flashing in the House of 'Adi,
Why did it strike your heart with melancholy?
هَنيئاً لِلمَدامِع بَثُّ وَجدي
لَقَد خَبَّرنَ عَن خُلُقٍ كَريمِ
Congratulations to the tears for their outpouring!
They have announced a generous, noble quality.
أَمِنكَ الطَّيفُ هَبَّ مَعَ الخُزامى
يُخادِعُ عِطفُهُ وَلَعَ النَّسيمِ
Was it your phantom that came with the wild creatures
Caressing them, made sportive by the breeze?
رَأَى قُربَ الحُسام وَغارَ مِنهُ
فَحاكَمَنا إِلى العَهدِ القَديمِ
He saw the swords close by and turned from them
To judge us by the ancient precedents.
أحِنُّ إِذا أَصابَ الغَيثُ نَجداً
وَقَعقَعَ بِالرُّعودِ عَلى الغُيومِ
I grieve when rain strikes the desert country
And thunder roars against the lowering sky,
وَلَمّا كُنتُ أَطرَبُ لِلغَوادي
ظَنَنتُ خَلائِقي زَهرَ الغَميمِ
Whenever I took pleasure in the valleys
I fancied my own temper like the rain-charged cloud.
أَفي مَجدي طَمِعتَ أَخا الهُوَينا
وَما بالُ البُوَيزِلِ وَالقُرومِ
Do you hope, my brother, for glory through me,
The glories of Buwairah and Qurum?
تُناكِرُكَ القَبائِلُ مِن نِزارٍ
كَأَنَّكَ فيهِمُ خُلُقُ اللَّئيمِ
The tribes deny your title to the name of Nizar,
As if among them you displayed the trait of villainy.
وَعَزمي يَستَقِلُّ الأُفقَ داراً
وَيَأنَفَ مِن مُصاحَبَةِ النُّجومِ
My purpose takes the horizon for its tenting place
And scorns the companying with the stars.
وَتربٍ يَدَّعيهِ المِسكُ طِيباً
إِذا وَسَمَتهُ أَندِيَةُ الحَميمِ
A soil it claims, that musk itself as sweet
When it is rained on by the valley's blowing air.
يَعِزُّ بِهِ إِذا سَفِه النُّعامى
وَيَعرِضُ عَن مُنازَعَةِ الحَليمِ
By it he glories if the brutes talk folly,
And he disdains to quarrel with a man of sense.
وَرَوض مَلَّ حَرَّ الشَّمسِ حَتّى
تَفَيَّأَ بِالسَّحائِبِ وَالغُيومِ
A meadow that the heat of sun did not affect
Till it was sheltered by the clouds on high.
إِذا عَبَثَت بِهِ ريحُ النُّعامى
تَمايَلَ طِربَةَ الرَّجُلِ السَّقيمِ
When the south wind sports with it and it sways
Like a sick man stricken by pain.
صَحِبتُ إِلَيهِ أَكوارَ المَطايا
فَجادَت بِالغَوارِبِ وَالرَّسيمِ
I travelled there with the riding camels' feet
That brought the evening and the soft night rain.
وَقَبَّلَ نورُهُ أَفواهَ خَيلي
فَغازَلَهُنَّ مِن نَصَبِ الشَّكيمِ
Its light kissed the mouths of my she-camels there
And wantoned with them from their hinder girths.
فَبِتنَ كَأَنَّهُنَّ بألِ حُزنٍ
وَذاكَ الربد تَلعَبُ بِالحُلومِ
They couched as though worn out with sorrow and grief
While the cold numbed their knees and joints.
لَهُنَّ إِذا سَرَحنَ بِهِ مَراحٌ
مَراحُ الحَمدِ في الحَسَبِ الصَّميمِ
For them, when they marched on with it, a marching place,
A march-place worthy of the praise of noble souls.
وَحَيٍّ مِن خَفاجَة رُحتُ فيهِ
عَلى جَرداء حالِيَةِ الأَديمِ
By a lively spring of Khafajah I dwelt,
Moving on its bare plateau the tent of palm-leaves.
أبيحُ الخَمرَ فيهِ حِمى هُمومي
فأَطرَبَها وَتفتِكُ بِالنَّديمِ
I loosed the wine within it, for it guarded my woes,
Maddened it and dealt destruction to the cup-companion.
وَكَحلاء الجُفونِ قَرَعتُ مِنها
نِجادَ السَّيفِ بِالعِقدِ النَّظيمِ
I made it the Kohl upon my eyelids, striking with it
The notches of the sword with chosen, jointed blows.
وَأَحياء حَبائِلُهُم كَراهُم
طَرَقتُهُمُ بِقاطِعَةِ النَّميمِ
In their living throats I made the death-dooms crash
By a straight cutting blade, dispenser of rebukes.
أَفي فَضلي يُباريني غَوِيٌّ
وَأَينَ الوَجهُ يُبذَلُ لِلسُّهومِ
Do you boast your merits to contend with mine,
Dishonorer of great names by your ignoble acts?
فَلا لَكَ ما نُسِبت إِلى سِنانٍ
وَلا عُزيت خُؤولكَ في تَميمِ
Then you have no share in what is attributed to Sinan,
Nor are you his offspring, traced to Temim.
نُجومُ اللَّيلِ يُسهِرُها حَذاري
وَسُمرُ الخَطِّ يُرعِدُها عَزيمي
The night-stars, my vengeance keeps them wakeful still,
The firmness of my resolution makes them tremble.
وَدَمعي في جُفونِ الرَّكبِ يَبدو
كَدَمعِ الغَيثِ في حَدَقِ النَّجيمِ
My tears upon my mount's cheeks are to be seen
Like the shower's tears upon the cheek of a leather bag.
وَقَد خُبِّرتَ عَن نَشَبٍ قَليلٍ
فَهَل خُبِّرتَ عَن خُلُقٍ ذَميمِ
You have been told of some little merit that I boast,
But have you been told of my most villainous defect?
