أهلاً بدارٍ سباك أغْيدُها

أبعد ما بان عنك خُرَّدُها

Welcome to a house whose inhabitants I lament,

Welcome to the abode whose slender beauty captivated you, long after its maidens have departed.

The further you are from it, the more tattered it becomes.

You lingered there, bent over a liver burning with grief, your hand pressed tight against its aching sheath.

ظِلْتَ بِهَا تَنْطَوِي عَلى كَبِدٍ

نَضِيجَةٍ فَوْقَ خِلْبِهَا يَدُهَا

You remained in it, writhing with anguish,

O drivers of her white camels, I fear that I shall be found dead before I lose sight of her.

Her hands boiling above its ashes.

Halt them briefly for my sake, for the least I can take as provision is a single glance.

يَا حَادِيَيْ عيسِهَا وَأحْسَبُني

أُوجَدُ مَيْتاً قُبَيْلَ أفْقِدُهَا

O you who rouse her passion, I reckon

Within the lover's heart burns a fire of passion; the hottest flames of Hell are but its coolest embers.

I will be found dead before I lose her.

From abandonment, the parting of his hair turned grey, while its blackness became as dark as silk.

قِفَا قَليلاً بها عَليّ فَلا

أقَلّ مِنْ نَظْرَةٍ أُزَوَّدُهَا

Stop for a while with her, spare me

O censurer of lovers, leave this company be; God has led them astray, so how can you guide them?

No less than a glance with which I am provided.

Blame weaves no effect upon souls whose closest intent is still far beyond your reach.

فَفي فُؤادِ المُحِبّ نَارُ جَوًى

أحَرُّ نَارِ الجَحيمِ أبْرَدُهَا

For in the heart of a lover is the fire of passion―

Wretched are the nights I spent awake in yearning, longing for one who passes them in slumber.

Hotter than the fires of Hell, her coolness.

I kept the night alive while tears came to my aid, as the darkness came to aid the night itself.

شَابَ مِنَ الهَجْرِ فَرْقُ لِمّتِهِ

فَصَارَ مِثْلَ الدّمَقْسِ أسْوَدُهَا

Separation has turned his once jet-black hair

My mount accepts no rider behind me, nor do I exhaust her with the whip on the day of the race.

To the white of an old goat from torment.

Her sandal-strap is her saddle, her thong her rein, and her laces serve as her halter.

يَا عَاذِلَ العَاشِقِينَ دَعْ فِئَةً

أضَلّهَا الله كَيفَ تُرْشِدُهَا

O you who censure lovers, leave a group―

The fiercest gust of wind is outstripped by the swaying of her stride beneath my feet.

That God has led astray―how can you guide them?

Traversing ground smooth as a shield's back, joined to rough terrain like the shield's inner belly.

لَيْسَ يُحِيكُ المَلامُ في هِمَمٍ

أقْرَبُهَا مِنْكَ عَنْكَ أبْعَدُهَا

Reproach does not suit proud souls,

Her lowlands and barren deserts cast us forward, aiming toward the son of Ubayd Allah.

The nearest of them to you, the furthest from you.

To a youth who withdraws his spears only after their bearer has quenched their thirst within hearts.

بِئْسَ اللّيَالي سَهِدْتُ مِنْ طَرَبٍ

شَوْقاً إلى مَنْ يَبِيتُ يَرْقُدُهَا

Miserable are the nights I stayed awake from rapture

He has bestowed prior favors upon me; I acknowledge them, yet cannot number them all.

Yearning for she who spends the night asleep.

He gives without the murk of delay, nor does any reminder of the favor spoil the gift.

أحْيَيْتُهَا وَالدّمُوعُ تُنْجِدُني

شُؤونُهَا وَالظّلامُ يُنْجِدُهَا

I brought them to life, and tears help me,

The best of Quraysh in lineage and glory, the most bountiful in giving and the most generous.

Her affairs and darkness help her.

The fiercest thruster with the spear, the swiftest striker with the sword, their chieftain and lord.

لا نَاقَتي تَقْبَلُ الرّدِيفَ وَلا

بالسّوْطِ يَوْمَ الرّهَانِ أُجْهِدُهَا

Neither can my she-camel endure a rider,

The finest horseman among them, of longest reach, their daring raider and their master.

Nor can I, on a race day, push her to exhaustion.

He is the crown of Lu'ayy bin Ghalib; through him, her branch and root have soared to the heights.

شِرَاكُهَا كُورُهَا وَمِشْفَرُهَا

زِمَامُهَا وَالشُّسُوعُ مِقْوَدُهَا

Her saddle-strap, her knee-pads and her bridle

The sun of her morning, the crescent moon of her night, the pearl of her necklace, her emerald gem.

Are her reins, and the Pleiades her guide.

Would that I bore a strike destined for me, as the name Muhammad was destined for him.

أشَدُّ عَصْفِ الرّيَاحِ يَسْبُقُهُ

تَحْتيَ مِنْ خَطْوِهَا تَأوّدُهَا

The fiercest desert wind she outruns,

He left his mark upon the battle and the iron, yet the Indian blade left no mark of fear upon his face.

Beneath me, made gentle by her pacing.

The scar rejoiced to see itself adorned by such a man, while other wounds looked on in envy.

في مِثْلِ ظَهْرِ المِجَنّ مُتّصِلٍ

بمِثْلِ بَطْنِ المِجَنّ قَرْدَدُهَا

Her back continuous with her belly

And people knew for certain that he who planted it by treachery would harvest the result in his own heart.

Like a tanned waterskin joined to another.

His enviers are now in such a state that fear of him rattles their very souls up and down.

مُرْتَمِياتٌ بِنَا إلى ابنِ عُبَيْـ

ـدِ الله غِيطَانُهَا وَفَدْفَدُهَا

Hastening to Ibn Ubayd Allah are our high-bred mounts,

The scabbards weep over the blades when he gives warning that he intends to unsheathe them,

Their neighing and trotting.

For they know they shall turn into liquid blood, and that he will sheath them within the necks of foes.

إلى فَتًى يُصْدِرُ الرّمَاحَ وَقَدْ

أنْهَلَهَا في القُلُوبِ مُورِدُهَا

To a knight who lunges with the spears, and whose

He set them loose; now the enemy, in panic, reviles them, while the friend sings their praise.

Watering-places in hearts have quenched their thirst.

Fire sparks from their striking edges, extinguished only by the pouring water of severed necks.

لَهُ أيَادٍ إليّ سَابِقَةٌ

أعُدّ مِنْهَا وَلا أُعَدّدُهَا

He has outstanding favors to me

If a hero loses his life-blood one day, it is the tips of these blades that have sought it out.

I cannot count, though I try to number them.

All creation has agreed, for my sake, that you, O son of the Prophet, are its unique one.

يُعْطي فَلا مَطْلَةٌ يُكَدّرُهَا

بِهَا وَلا مَنّةٌ يُنَكّدُهَا

He gives without delay to mar it,

And that yesterday, though barely of age and beardless, you were already the Elder of the Ma'add tribe.

Without reminders to embitter it.

How many a majestic favor have you nurtured, a grace that found its very birth in you.

خَيْرُ قُرَيْشٍ أباً وَأمْجَدُهَا

أكثَرُهَا نَائِلاً وَأجْوَدُهَا

The best of Quraysh in lineage and most generous,

And how many a need have you granted, its fulfillment arriving closer to me than my own self.

Fullest of bounty and most open-handed.

And noble deeds that walked upon the foot of righteousness to my home, repeating their visits.

أطْعَنُهَا بالقَنَاةِ أضْرَبُهَا

بالسّيْفِ جَحْجاحُهَا مُسَوَّدُهَا

I thrust with the spear, I strike with the sword―

My very skin has acknowledged these gifts; I cannot deny them so long as I live.

Its brown flash blackened.

So grant them again—may I never lack them—for the best gifts of the generous are those that return.

أفْرَسُهَا فَارِساً وَأطْوَلُهَا

بَاعاً وَمِغْوَارُهَا وَسَيّدُهَا

Her horseman is the bravest horseman, her camel-driver

The farthest-traveling, and her master and chief.

تَاجُ لُؤيّ بنِ غَالِبٍ وَبِهِ

سَمَا لَهَا فَرْعُهَا وَمَحْتِدُهَا

The crown of Lu'ayy ibn Ghalib, it is he

Who gave her branches height and sharpened her point.

شَمْسُ ضُحَاهَا هِلالُ لَيلَتِهَا

دُرُّ تَقَاصِيرِهَا زَبَرْجَدُهَا

Sun of her daytime, crescent of her night,

Pearl of her anklets, chrysolite.

يَا لَيْتَ بي ضَرْبَةً أُتيحَ لهَا

كمَا أُتِيحَتْ لَهُ مُحَمّدُهَا

Would that I had been struck a blow made possible

As his Muhammad was made possible.

أثّرَ فِيهَا وَفي الحَدِيدِ ومَا

أثّرَ في وَجْهِهِ مُهَنّدُهَا

He left his mark on it and on iron although

His dashing one had left no blemish on his face.

فَاغْتَبَطَتْ إذْ رَأتْ تَزَيّنَهَا

بِمِثْلِهِ وَالجِرَاحُ تَحْسُدُهَا

It congratulated itself when it saw its adornment

With the like of him, though wounds may envy it.

وَأيْقَنَ النّاسُ أنّ زَارِعَهَا

بالمَكْرِ في قَلْبِهِ سَيَحْصِدُهَا

People realized that he who planted it

Through his scheming would one day reap it.

أصْبَحَ حُسّادُهُ وَأنْفُسُهُمْ

يُحْدِرُهَا خَوْفُهُ وَيُصْعِدُهَا

His enviers woke up with their souls

Fearfully humbling him and exalting him.

تَبْكي علَى الأنْصُلِ الغُمُودُ إذَا

أنْذَرَهَا أنّهُ يُجَرِّدُهَا

The sword weeps for the polished blade when

It warns it will strip it bare.

لِعِلْمِهَا أنّهَا تَصِيرُ دَماً

وَأنّهُ في الرّقَابِ يُغْمِدُهَا

Knowing it will become blood

And plunge it into the necks.

أطْلَقَهَا فَالعَدُوّ مِنْ جَزَعٍ

يَذُمّهَا وَالصّدِيقُ يَحْمَدُهَا

He unleashed it, so the enemy in panic

Curses it while the friend praises it.

تَنْقَدِحُ النّارُ مِنْ مَضارِبِهَا

وَصَبُّ مَاءِ الرّقابِ يُخْمِدُهَا

Fire sparks from its striking,

And the pouring of the blood quenches it

إذَا أضَلّ الهُمَامُ مُهْجَتَهُ

يَوْماً فَأطْرَافُهُنّ تَنْشُدُهَا

When passions lose their way one day

Their tips seeking it out.

قَدْ أجْمَعَتْ هَذِهِ الخَلِيقَةُ لي

أنّكَ يا ابنَ النّبيّ أوْحَدُهَا

All creation has agreed for me

That you, O son of the Prophet, are its unique one,

وأنّكَ بالأمْسِ كُنْتَ مُحْتَلِماً

شَيْخَ مَعَدٍّ وَأنْتَ أمْرَدُهَا

And that yesterday you were a hot-blooded

Elderly Mādī, while you are its most virile one,

وَكَمْ وَكَمْ نِعْمَةٍ مُجَلِّلَةٍ

رَبّيْتَهَا كانَ مِنْكَ مَوْلِدُهَا

So many glorious blessings

You have cultivated, your birth was their origin,

وَكَمْ وَكَمْ حَاجَةٍ سَمَحْتَ بهَا

أقْرَبُ منّي إليّ مَوْعِدُهَا

So many needs you have granted

Closer to me than their appointed time,

وَمَكْرُمَاتٍ مَشَتْ علَى قَدَمِ الْـ

ـبِرّ إلى مَنْزِلي تُرَدّدُهَا

And gifts of kindness walking step after step

To my house, repeating them.

أقَرّ جِلْدي بهَا عَليّ فَلا

أقْدِرُ حَتّى المَمَاتِ أجْحَدُهَا

They make my skin cling to my bones, so I cannot

Till death, peel them away.

فَعُدْ بهَا لا عَدِمْتُهَا أبَداً

خَيْرُ صِلاتِ الكَرِيمِ أعْوَدُهَا

Then return with them―I will never lack them―

The best prayers of the generous one I shall repeat.