رُوَيدَكَ أَيُّها المَلِكُ الجَليلُ

تَأَنَّ وَعُدَّهُ مِمّا تُنيلُ

Go gently, O noble king

Slow your pace, O majestic King,

Delay your promise from what you obtain

Tarry awhile, and count this delay as a gift you bestow.

وَجودَكَ بِالمُقامِ وَلَو قَليلاً

فَما فيما تَجودُ بِهِ قَليلُ

Your generosity, even if little, in this abode

Be generous with your presence, though the stay be brief,

For in what you give generously, nothing is little

For nothing you grant can ever be reckoned small.

لِأَكبِتَ حاسِداً وَأَرى عَدُوّاً

كَأَنَّهُما وَداعُكَ وَالرَحيلُ

So you frustrate the envious and see an enemy

That I may stifle the envious and gaze upon a foe,

As if they are bidding you farewell and departing

Who seem to me bitter as your farewell and departure.

وَيَهدَأَ ذا السَحابُ فَقَد شَكَكنا

أَتَغلِبُ أَم حَياهُ لَكُم قَبيلُ

And this cloud calms down for we doubted

And let this storm-cloud settle, for we have fallen into doubt:

Will it overcome or is its life for you a tribe

Is it the Taghlib tribe charging, or is this rain their kin?

وَكُنتُ أَعيبُ عَذلاً في سَماحٍ

فَها أَنا في السَماحِ لَهُ عَذولُ

And I used to blame ardour in forgiving

I once found fault with those who censured generosity,

Yet here I am in forgiving him, blamer

Yet here I stand, finding fault with such munificence.

وَما أَخشى نُبوَّكَ عَن طَريقٍ

وَسَيفُ الدَولَةِ الماضي الصَقيلُ

And I do not fear your deviating from a path

I do not fear that you might stray from the path,

And the polished sword of the state of the past

For Sayf al-Dawla is the sharp and polished blade.

وَكُلُّ شَواةِ غِطريفٍ تَمَنّى

لِسَيرِكَ أَنَّ مَفرِقَها السَبيلُ

And every twig of Ghutrif wished

And every noble chieftain’s scalp has surely wished

That for your travel their separation is the way

That the parting of his hair might be the road you tread.

وَمِثلِ العَمقِ مَملوءٍ دِماءً

جَرَت بِكَ في مَجاريهِ الخُيولُ

And like a deep filled with blood

And through lands like al-Amq, brimming over with blood,

It flowed through it with you, the horses

Your horses have galloped with you through its crimson streams.

إِذا اِعتادَ الفَتى خَوضَ المَنايا

فَأَهوَنُ ما يَمُرُّ بِهِ الوُحولُ

When the young man gets used to plunging into calamities

When a warrior grows accustomed to wading through death,

Then the circling vicissitudes are easiest for him

The easiest obstacle he meets is mere mud.

وَمَن أَمَرَ الحُصونَ فَما عَصَتهُ

أَطاعَتهُ الحُزونَةُ وَالسُهولُ

And whoever commanded the fortresses, they did not disobey him

He who commanded fortresses, and they dared not disobey—

The rugged and the plains obeyed him

To him, both rugged heights and sweeping plains yield.

أَتَخفِرُ كُلَّ مَن رَمَتِ اللَيالي

وَتُنشِرُ كُلَّ مَن دَفَنَ الخُمولُ

You humiliate everyone whom the nights threw

Do you offer protection to all whom the nights assail,

And uncover everyone whom laziness buried

And raise the dead whom obscurity has buried?

وَنَدعوكَ الحُسامَ وَهَل حُسامٌ

يَعيشُ بِهِ مِنَ المَوتِ القَتيلُ

And we call you the sword, and is there a sword

We call you the Sword, but does a sword ever exist

With which the slain can escape death?

By which the slain are brought back from death to life?

وَما لِلسَيفِ إِلّا القَطعَ فِعلٌ

وَأَنتَ القاطِعُ البَرُّ الوَصولُ

The sword has no deed but cutting

For the blade knows no function but to sever and shear,

And you are the cutter, the righteous, the reacher

Yet you are the Cutter, the Righteous, the Unifier.

وَأَنتَ الفارِسُ القَوّالُ صَبراً

وَقَد فَنِيَ التَكَلُّمُ وَالصَهيلُ

And you are the eloquent knight, patient

You are the knight who cries out 'Endure!'

Speaking and neighing are over

When all speech has failed and the neighing has ceased.

يَحيدُ الرُمحُ عَنكَ وَفيهِ قَصدٌ

وَيَقصُرُ أَن يَنالَ وَفيهِ طولُ

The spear deviates from you while it aims

The spear veers away from you, though aimed with intent,

And falls short that it reaches you despite its length

And falls short of its mark, despite its great length.

فَلَو قَدَرَ السِنانُ عَلى لِسانٍ

لَقالَ لَكَ السِنانُ كَما أَقولُ

If the spearheads were able to speak

If the spearhead possessed the power of a tongue,

The spearheads would say to you what I say

It would speak to you the very words I speak.

وَلَو جازَ الخُلودُ خَلَدتَ فَرداً

وَلَكِن لَيسَ لِلدُنيا خَليلُ

And if immortality was possible, you would be immortal alone

Were immortality permitted, you alone would remain,

But the world has no intimate friend

But this world has no constant friend.