Sol 6.1

  1. Ah, if only I knew: shall I spend a night

    Beside the ghada groves, driving the swift young she-camels?

  2. Would that the caravan had not crossed the ghada's expanse,

    And would that the ghada had walked beside the mounts for nights!

  3. And would that the ghada groves, the day we departed, had grown shorter

    Along their length, so I could see those behind me!

  4. There was, among the ghada's people—if the ghada were near—

    A place to visit; but the ghada is not near.

  5. Did you not see me trade error for guidance,

    And become a campaigning warrior in Ibn Affan's army?

  6. And I came to be in the enemies' land, after

    Having seen myself far from the enemies' land.

  7. Longing called me from the people of Awd, while my companions

    Were at Dhu al-Tabasayn; and I turned behind me.

  8. I answered longing, when it called me, with a sigh;

    Because of it, lest I be reproached, I veiled myself in my cloak.

  9. I say, with the Kurdish villages standing between us:

    May God reward Amr with the best reward He ever gave.

  10. If God brings me back from the campaign, I shall not be—

    Even if my wealth is little—a seeker of what lies beyond me.

  11. My daughter says, on seeing my departure draw near:

    'This journey of yours will leave me fatherless.'

  12. By my life, if Khurasan should take my head,

    Indeed, I had been far from Khurasan's two gates.

  13. If I escape Khurasan's two gates, I shall not return

    To it, even if you fill me with hopes.

  14. By God, how wondrous I was, the day I willingly left

    My sons at upper al-Raqmatayn, and my wealth!

  15. And how wondrous the gazelles crossing rightward at evening,

    Telling me from behind that I was doomed!

  16. And how wondrous my two elders, both of whom

    Are caring and sincere toward me—if only they had restrained me!

  17. And how wondrous the men who witnessed my recklessness

    In my affairs, yet did not shorten my tether!

  18. And how wondrous longing, from wherever it calls my companions,

    And how wondrous my stubbornness, and how wondrous my desisting!

  19. I thought of who would weep for me, but found

    None weeping but the sword and the Rudayni spear,

  20. And a well-built chestnut horse, dragging his rein

    Toward the water; death has left him no one to water him.

  21. He is led in humiliation after his master has died,

    Sold for a pittance after being highly prized.

  22. Yet near al-Sumayna there are women

    For whom my plight makes life hard to bear.

  23. Stricken in the hands of men, in a wilderness,

    They shape my grave's niche where my fate was decreed.

  24. And when my death came into sight at Marw,

    And my body wasted there, and my end drew near,

  25. I say to my companions: 'Lift me up, for

    It gladdens my eye that Suhayl has appeared to me.'

  26. O my two traveling companions, death is near; dismount

    On a rise: I shall be staying for nights.

  27. Stay beside me today, or part of a night,

    And do not hurry me; my condition has become plain.

  28. And when my spirit is drawn out, rise and prepare

    For me the lote leaves and shrouds at my passing.

  29. And mark out my resting place with the tips of spearheads,

    And draw the remainder of my cloak over my two eyes.

  30. And do not begrudge me—may God bless you both—

    The room you would make for me in the broad earth.

  31. Take me and drag me toward you by my garment,

    For before today I was hard to lead.

  32. And I would turn back to charge when the horses retreated,

    Swift amid battle to whoever called me.

  33. And I was steadfast against my opponent in battle,

    Hard upon enemies, sharp of tongue.

  34. And I was praised for provisions and hospitality,

    Refraining from insulting my cousin or my neighbor.

  35. At times you see me in shade and comfort,

    And at times you see me with thoroughbreds as my mounts.

  36. And one day you see me in a whirling mill,

    The spearpoints tearing my clothes.

  37. And stand at al-Samina's well, and tell

    The radiant, fair, beautiful, gazing women there

  38. That you two left me in a wilderness,

    Where the wind heaps drifting sand upon me.

  39. And do not forget my friendship, my two friends, after

    My limbs are severed and my bones decay.

  40. Those close to me will not lack grief that strikes them,

    Nor will my kinsmen lack an inheritance from me.

  41. They say, 'Be not far away,' while they bury me,

    Yet where is the place of distance, if not my place?

  42. Tomorrow morning—oh, my soul's anguish for tomorrow!—

    When they depart by night from me, and I remain here.

  43. And my wealth, newly gained and long held, becomes

    Another's, though yesterday that wealth was mine.

  44. Ah, if only I knew: has al-Raha changed,

    Raha al-Muthl—or is it, this evening, at Falj just as it was?

  45. When the whole tribe settled there and brought down

    Cattle with dark, tranquil eyes,

  46. They grazed, with darkness about to enfold them,

    Now cropping lavender, now daisies.

  47. And shall I leave the tall pale camels at midmorning,

    With their riders, climbing the firm desert uplands?

  48. When bands of riders, between Unayza

    And Bulan, turn aside their enduring, swift mounts?

  49. Ah, if only I knew: has Umm Malik wept

    As I would have wept, had they announced your death?

  50. When I die, visit the graves often, and greet

    The burial mound; may the morning clouds water you.

  51. A grave over which the wind has swept

    Drifting dust like the tatters of Marnubani cloth.

  52. A captive of stones and soil; there lie enclosed

    In their depths my decaying bones.

  53. O companion, if you pass that way, be sure to tell

    Banu Mazin and al-Rayb that we shall meet no more.

  54. And unsaddle my young she-camel among the riding camels, for she

    Will cleave livers and set mourners weeping.

  55. And I saw the fire of the Mazini women late at night,

    On a height, before which the gazing eye is turned back.

  56. Fueled with agarwood, its blaze lit up

    Wide-eyed oryxes in the lote shade, content with fresh pasture.

  57. A stranger, far from home, lying in a wilderness,

    Forever, known to be beyond reach.

  58. My companions set out at evening and left behind

    A trusted brother, lying in the dwelling's courtyard.

  59. I turn my gaze around my saddle, but do not see

    There any watchful eye of the women who bring comfort.

  60. And at al-Raml are women of our people who, if they saw me,

    Would weep and offer ransom for the physician treating me.

  61. And my memory of al-Raml and its people was never

    A bad one; nor did I bid farewell at al-Raml in hatred.

  62. Among them are my mother, my two daughters, and my maternal aunt,

    And another weeping woman who stirs the mourners to tears.

Sol 6.1