ضُروبُ الناسِ عُشّاقٌ ضُروبا

فَأَعذَرُهُم أَشَفُّهُمُ حَبيباً

The ways of men are diverse, and they are lovers of diverse things,

But the most excusable is he whose beloved is the most noble.

وَما سَكَني سِوى قَتلِ الأَعادي

فَهَل مِن زَورَةٍ تَشفي القُلوبا

My solace lies only in the slaying of foes—

Is there, then, an assault to heal these hearts?

تَظَلُّ الطَيرُ مِنها في حَديثٍ

تَرُدُّ بِهِ الصَراصِرَ وَالنَعيبا

Birds linger there in conversation,

Answering the shrill crickets with the raven's croak.

وَقَد لَبِسَت دِمائَهُمُ عَلَيهِم

حِداداً لَم تَشُقَّ لَها جُيوباً

They have donned the blood of foes as mourning garb,

Yet they tore no collars in their grief.

أَدَمنا طَعنَهُم وَالقَتلَ حَتّى

خَلَطنا في عِظامِهِمِ الكُعوبا

We persisted in stabbing and slaughter

Until we mingled the spear-knots with their very bones.

كَأَنَّ خُيولَنا كانَت قَديماً

تُسَقّى في قُحوفِهِمِ الحَليباً

It is as if our steeds, in days of old,

Were watered with milk from within their skulls,

فَمَرَّت غَيرَ نافِرَةٍ عَلَيهِم

تَدوسُ بِنا الجَماجِمَ وَالتَريبا

So they passed over them without shrinking back,

Trampling beneath us skulls and chests alike.

يُقَدِّمُها وَقَد خُضِبَت شَواها

فَتىً تَرمي الحُروبُ بِهِ الحُروبا

Driving them on, while their shanks are dyed red,

Is a youth whom War hurls against War itself.

شَديدُ الخُنزُوانَةِ لا يُبالي

أَصابَ إِذا تَنَمَّرَ أَم أُصيبا

Of mighty pride, he pays no heed,

When his rage turns leopard-wild, if he strikes or is struck.

أَعَزمي طالَ هَذا اللَيلُ فَاِنظُر

أَمِنكَ الصُبحُ يَفرَقُ أَن يَؤوبا

O my resolve, this night has grown long; look and see—

Does the Dawn fear you, that it dares not return?

كَأَنَّ الفَجرَ حِبٌّ مُستَزارٌ

يُراعي مِن دُجُنَّتِهِ رَقيبا

As though the Dawn were a lover sought in secret,

Watching for a guardian from out the gloom.

كَأَنَّ نُجومَهُ حَليٌ عَلَيهِ

وَقَد حُذِيَت قَوائِمُهُ الجُبوبا

As if the stars were jewels adorning the night,

While its legs are shod deep within the earth.

كَأَنَّ الجَوَّ قاسى ما أُقاسي

فَصارَ سَوادُهُ فيهِ شُحوبا

As if the very air endured my suffering,

Turning its blackness into a sickly pallor.

كَأَنَّ دُجاهُ يَجذِبُها سُهادي

فَلَيسَ تَغيبُ إِلّا أَن يَغيبا

As if my insomnia drags at its darkness,

So it shall not depart until my wakefulness departs.

أُقَلِّبُ فيهِ أَجفاني كَأَنّي

أَعُدُّ بِهِ عَلى الدَهرِ الذُنوبا

I turn my gaze within it, as though I were

Counting the sins of Time against me.

وَما لَيلٌ بِأَطوَلَ مِن نَهارٍ

يَظَلُّ بِلَحظِ حُسّادي مَشوبا

Yet no night is longer than a day

That remains tainted by the glaring eyes of envy.

وَما مَوتٌ بِأَبغَضَ مِن حَياةٍ

أَرى لَهُمُ مَعي فيها نَصيبا

And no death is more loathsome than a life

Wherein I see they hold a share beside me.

عَرَفتُ نَوائِبَ الحَدَثانِ حَتّى

لَوِ اِنتَسَبَت لَكُنتُ لَها نَقيبا

I have known the calamities of fortune so intimately

That were they to trace their kin, I would be their chief.

وَلَمّا قَلَّتِ الإِبلُ اِمتَطينا

إِلى اِبنِ أَبي سُلَيمانَ الخُطوبا

When camels grew scarce, we mounted calamities

To ride toward Ibn Abi Sulayman.

مَطايا لا تَذِلُّ لِمَن عَلَيها

وَلا يَبغي لَها أَحَدٌ رُكوبا

Mounts that yield not to the rider,

Beasts upon which no man seeks to sit.

وَتَرتَعُ دونَ نَبتِ الأَرضِ فينا

فَما فارَقتُها إِلّا جَديبا

They graze upon us rather than the pasture,

So I parted from them only when stripped bare.

إِلى ذي شيمَةٍ شَعَفَت فُؤادي

فَلَولاهُ لَقُلتُ بِها النَسيبا

To one whose character enraptured my heart;

Were it not for him, I would have sung love-verses to those perils.

تُنازِعُني هَواها كُلُّ نَفسٍ

وَإِن لَم تُشبِهِ الرَشَأَ الرَبيبا

Every soul vies with me in love for his nature,

Though it resembles not the gazelle raised in grace.

عَجيبٌ في الزَمانِ وَما عَجيبٌ

أَتى مِن آلِ سَيّارٍ عَجيبا

A wonder in this age, yet no wonder at all,

For a marvel has sprung from the house of Sayyar.

وَشَيخٌ في الشَبابِ وَلَيسَ شَيخاً

يُسَمّى كُلُّ مَن بَلَغَ المَشيبا

An elder in his youth, yet not the elder

So named merely for reaching the age of gray hair.

قَسا فَالأُسدُ تَفزَعُ مِن قُواهُ

وَرَقَّ فَنَحنُ نَفزَعُ أَن يَذوبا

He is harsh, so that lions tremble at his might;

He is gentle, so that we fear he might melt away.

أَشَدُّ مِنَ الرِياحِ الهوجِ بَطشاً

وَأَسرَعُ في النَدى مِنها هُبوبا

Fiercer in assault than the gale-force winds,

Yet swifter than their gusts in bestowing generosity.

وَقالوا ذاكَ أَرمى مَن رَأَينا

فَقُلتُ رَأَيتُمُ الغَرَضَ القَريبا

They said, "He is the truest marksman we have seen."

I replied, "You have only seen the target close at hand."

وَهَل يُخطي بِأَسهُمِهِ الرَمايا

وَما يُخطي بِما ظَنَّ الغُيوبا

How could he miss the mark with his arrows,

When his intuition misses not the secrets of the unseen?

إِذا نُكِبَت كِنانَتُهُ اِستَبَنّا

بِأَنصُلِها لِأَنصُلِها نُدوبا

When his quiver is upturned, we discern

Upon the arrowheads the scars made by their very kin.

يُصيبُ بِبَعضِها أَفواقَ بَعضٍ

فَلَولا الكَسرُ لَاِتَصَلَت قَضيبا

He strikes the notch of one arrow with another;

Were they not to shatter, they would form a single rod.

بِكُلِّ مُقَوَّمٍ لَم يَعصِ أَمراً

لَهُ حَتّى ظَنَنّاهُ لَبيبا

With every straightened shaft that disobeyed no command,

Until we deemed the wood itself wise.

يُريكَ النَزعُ بَينَ القَوسِ مِنهُ

وَبَينَ رَمِيِّهِ الهَدَفَ المَهيبا

The draw reveals the bond between his bow

And the awesome target he strikes.

أَلَستَ اِبنَ الأُلى سَعِدوا وَسادوا

وَلَم يَلِدوا اِمرَءً إِلّا نَجيبا

Are you not the son of those who prospered and ruled,

Begetting none but the noble-born?

وَنالوا ما اِشتَهَوا بِالحَزمِ هَوناً

وَصادَ الوَحشَ نَملُهُمُ دَبيبا

They attained their desires with ease through resolve,

As their ants might hunt wild beasts by mere stealth.

وَما ريحُ الرِياضِ لَها وَلَكِن

كَساها دَفنُهُم في التُربِ طيبا

The scent of the gardens is not their own;

It is your ancestors' burial that clothed the earth in perfume.

أَيا مَن عادَ روحُ المَجدِ فيهِ

وَعادَ زَمانُهُ التالي قَشيبا

O you in whom the spirit of Glory has returned,

Making its latter days as fresh as the first,

تَيَمَّمَني وَكيلُكَ مادِحاً لي

وَأَنشَدَني مِنَ الشِعرِ الغَريبا

Your messenger sought me out with praise,

Reciting to me verses of wondrous strain.

فَآجَرَكَ الإِلَهُ عَلى عَليلٍ

بَعَثتَ إِلى المَسيحِ بِهِ طَبيبا

May God reward you for the sake of a sick man,

To whom you sent a physician with the healing touch of the Messiah.

وَلَستُ بِمُنكِرٍ مِنكَ الهَدايا

وَلَكِن زِدتَني فيها أَديبا

I do not deny the bounty of your gifts,

Yet through them, you have increased my own refinement.

فَلا زالَت دِيارُكَ مُشرِقاتٍ

وَلا دانَيتَ يا شَمسُ الغُروبا

May your abodes remain forever radiant,

And may you, O Sun, never approach your setting,

لِأَصبِحَ آمِناً فيكَ الرَزايا

كَما أَنا آمِنٌ فيكَ العُيوبا

That I may be safe from calamities through you,

Just as I am safe from finding any fault in you.