إِنَّما التَهنِئاتُ لِلأَكفاءِ

وَلِمَن يَدَّني مِنَ البُعَداءِ

Formal congratulations are meant for peers,

And for strangers seeking to draw near.

وَأَنا مِنكَ لا يُهَنِّئُ عُضوٌ

بِالمَسَرّاتِ سائِرَ الأَعضاءِ

But I am part of you; does one limb offer praise

To the rest of the body for its delights?

مُستَقِلٌّ لَكَ الدِيارَ وَلَو كا

نَ نُجوماً آجُرُّ هَذا البِناءِ

I deem these dwellings too small for you,

Even were the stars the very bricks of this construction,

وَلَوَ أَنَّ الَّذي يَخِرُّ مِنَ الأَم

واهِ فيها مِن فِضَّةٍ بَيضاءِ

And even if the waters that cascade within

Flowed not as liquid, but as molten silver white.

أَنتَ أَعلى مَحَلَّةً أَن تُهَنّى

بِمَكانٍ في الأَرضِ أَو في السَماءِ

Your station is far too high to receive acclaim

For any place on earth or in the sky.

وَلَكَ الناسُ وَالبِلادُ وَما يَسـ

ـرَحُ بَينَ الغَبراءِ وَالخَضراءِ

Yours are the people, the lands, and all that roams

Between the dusty earth and the verdant heavens.

وَبَساتينُكَ الجِيادُ وَما تَحـ

ـمِلُ مِن سَمهَرِيَّةٍ سَمراءِ

Your true gardens are your steeds and what they bear

Of tawny lances, sharp and straight.

إِنَّما يَفخَرُ الكَريمُ أَبو المِسـ

ـكِ بِما يَبتَني مِنَ العَلياءِ

The noble Abu al-Misk takes pride only

In the edifices of glory he constructs,

وَبِأَيّامِهِ الَّتي اِنسَلَخَت عَنـ

ـهُ وَما دارُهُ سِوى الهَيجاءِ

And in the days that have passed him by,

Knowing no home but the heart of battle,

وَبِما أَثَّرَت صَوارِمُهُ البيـ

ـضُ لَهُ في جَماجِمِ الأَعداءِ

And in the marks his sharp white blades have left

Upon the shattered skulls of his enemies,

وَبِمِسكٍ يُكنى بِهِ لَيسَ بِالمِسـ

ـكِ وَلَكِنَّهُ أَريجُ الثَناءِ

And by that 'Musk' of his name—not the scent itself,

But rather the fragrant aroma of high praise.

لا بِما يَبتَني الحَواضِرُ في الريـ

ـفِ وَما يَطَّبي قُلوبَ النِساءِ

Not by what settlers build upon the fertile land,

Nor by trinkets that ensnare the hearts of women.

نَزَلَت إِذ نَزَلتَها الدارُ في أَحـ

ـسَنَ مِنها مِنَ السَنا وَالسَناءِ

The house, when you entered, settled into a state

Surpassing its own radiance and grandeur.

حَلَّ في مَنبِتِ الرَياحينِ مِنها

مَنبِتُ المَكرُماتِ وَالآلاءِ

There descended into its beds of sweet basil

The very root of all nobilities and blessings.

تَفضَحُ الشَمسَ كُلَّما ذَرَّتِ الشَمـ

ـسُ بِشَمسٍ مُنيرَةٍ سَوداءِ

You shame the sun whenever it rises,

With a sun of your own that shines luminous and black.

إِنَّ في ثَوبِكَ الَّذي المَجدُ فيهِ

لَضِياءً يُزري بِكُلِّ ضِياءِ

Truly, within your robe where glory resides,

Is a brilliance that outshines all other light.

إِنَّما الجِلدُ مَلبَسٌ وَاِبيِضاضُ الـ

ـنَفسِ خَيرٌ مِنَ اِبيِضاضِ القَباءِ

Skin is but a garment; the whiteness of the soul

Is far better than the whiteness of the robe.

كَرَمٌ في شَجاعَةٍ وَذَكاءٌ

في بَهاءٍ وَقُدرَةٌ في وَفاءِ

Generosity merged with courage, and wit

In splendor, and power bound by loyalty.

مَن لِبيضِ المُلوكِ أَن تُبدِلَ اللَو

نَ بِلَونِ الأُستاذِ وَالسَحناءِ

Who will tell the white kings to exchange their hue

For the complexion and color of the Master?

فَتَراها بَنو الحُروبِ بِأَعيا

نٍ تَراهُ بِها غَداةَ اللِقاءِ

That the sons of war might view them with the awe

With which they view him on the morning of battle.

يا رَجاءَ العُيونِ في كُلِّ أَرضٍ

لَم يَكُن غَيرَ أَن أَراكَ رَجائي

O hope of all eyes in every land,

My only hope was simply to behold you.

وَلَقَد أَفنَتِ المَفاوِزُ خَيلي

قَبلَ أَن نَلتَقي وَزادي وَمائي

The barren deserts have worn out my steed,

My stores and water, before we ever met.

فَاِرمِ بي ما أَرَدتَ مِنّي فَإِنّي

أَسَدُ القَلبِ آدَمِيُّ الرُواءِ

So cast me where you will, for I remain

A lion in heart, though human in form.

وَفُؤادي مِنَ المُلوكِ وَإِن كا

نَ لِساني يُرى مِنَ الشُعَراءِ

My heart belongs to the rank of kings,

Even if my tongue is counted among the poets.