مَلومُكُما يَجِلُّ عَنِ المَلامِ

وَوَقعُ فَعالِهِ فَوقَ الكَلامِ

Blameworthy are you though blame recoils from you,

The man you blame is far too great for scolding,

Your deeds surpass all talk.

And his deeds’ impact soars above mere speech.

ذَراني وَالفَلاةُ بِلا دَليلٍ

وَوَجهي وَالهَجيرَ بِلا لِثامِ

Leave me be, though trackless is the wilderness

Leave me to the wasteland with no guide to lead,

My face, the veil torn asunder.

My face unveiled against the scorching noon.

فَإِنّي أَستَريحُ بِذي وَهَذا

وَأَتعَبُ بِالإِناخَةِ وَالمُقامِ

I find rest in this, though that does weary me,

For in such hardships I find my repose,

Halting, not roaming, my wont.

While rest and settling only wear me down.

عُيونُ رَواحِلي إِن حُرتُ عَيني

وَكُلُّ بُغامِ رازِحَةٍ بُغامي

My steeds’ eyes guide when sight fails me.

My camels' eyes become my own when lost,

Each she-camel’s foal, my tribe entire.

And their exhaustion echoes in my voice.

فَقَد أَرِدُ المِياهَ بِغَيرِ هادٍ

سِوى عَدّي لَها بَرقَ الغَمامِ

I seek the waters sans guide, none but my count

I find the water holes without a guide,

Of lightning streaks through the clouds’ loom.

Led only by the lightning in the clouds.

يُذِمُّ لِمُهجَتي رَبّي وَسَيفي

إِذا اِحتاجَ الوَحيدُ إِلى الذِمامِ

My Lord and sword suffice my tribe,

My Lord and sword stand surety for my soul,

When the lone soul cries for aid.

When the lone wanderer needs a guarantee.

وَلا أُمسي لِأَهلِ البُخلِ ضَيفاً

وَلَيسَ قِرىً سِوى مُخِّ النِعامِ

No guest am I in misers’ abodes,

I will not be a guest to miserly folk,

My only shelter, ostrich plumes.

Nor feast on aught but marrow of the wild.

فَلَمّا صارَ وُدُّ الناسِ خِبّاً

جَزَيتُ عَلى اِبتِسامٍ بِاِبتِسامِ

So when goodwill in people soured like milk,

When human friendship turned to mere deceit,

I returned smiles for smiles in kind.

I paid back feigned affection with a smile.

وَصِرتُ أَشُكُّ فيمَن أَصطَفيهِ

لِعِلمي أَنَّهُ بَعضُ الأَنامِ

I doubt even those I thought elect,

I came to doubt the very friends I chose,

For I know, we are all but human.

Knowing that they, too, are but humankind.

يُحِبُّ العاقِلونَ عَلى التَصافي

وَحُبُّ الجاهِلينَ عَلى الوَسامِ

The wise love sincerely, fools for show;

The wise base love on pure sincerity,

I scorn a brother to my mother and sire,

While fools base theirs on outward beauty’s form.

وَآنَفُ مِن أَخي لِأَبي وَأُمّي

إِذا ما لَم أَجِدهُ مِنَ الكِرامِ

If he lack all nobility.

I scorn my very brother, flesh and blood,

Sires oft outdo sons in villainy.

If he proves not a man of noble soul.

أَرى الأَجدادَ تَغلِبُها كَثيراً

عَلى الأَولادِ أَخلاقُ اللِئامِ

No ancestor’s glory contents me,

I see high lineage often overcome

If valor he did not evince.

In offspring by the habits of the vile.

وَلَستُ بِقانِعٍ مِن كُلِّ فَضلٍ

بِأَن أُعزى إِلى جَدٍّ هُمامِ

I wonder at one with grit yet runs

I am not satisfied with virtue’s claim

As prey while predator he could have been.

Merely to cite a valiant grandsire’s name.

عَجِبتُ لِمَن لَهُ قَدٌّ وَحَدٌّ

وَيَنبو نَبوَةَ القَضِمِ الكَهامِ

One who can reach the heights should not then leave

I marvel: one with strength and blade to wield,

His mount unsaddled, reins astray.

Yet dull and blunt as useless, broken steel.

وَمَن يَجِدُ الطَريقَ إِلى المَعالي

فَلا يَذَرُ المَطِيَّ بِلا سَنامِ

In people's faults I find none worse

Whoever finds the path to glory’s peak

Than failing at what they perfect could.

Will ride his mount until its hump is gone.

وَلَم أَرَ في عُيوبِ الناسِ شَيئاً

كَنَقصِ القادِرينَ عَلى التَمامِ

In Egypt have I stayed, no more beyond me

I see no flaw in mankind quite so tragic

Or ahead can my steed now fare.

As falling short when capable of greatness.

أَقَمتُ بِأَرضِ مِصرَ فَلا وَرائي

تَخُبُّ بِيَ المَطِيُّ وَلا أَمامي

My sickbed palls, my side now pines

I stayed in Egypt; my mounts do not run

For meetings that may never come.

Behind me now, nor lead the way ahead.

وَمَلَّنِيَ الفِراشُ وَكانَ جَنبي

يَمَلُّ لِقاءَهُ في كُلِّ عامِ

Few care for me, my heart is sick,

The bed has grown weary of my weight, though once

Many envy, harsh my plight.

My side would tire to touch it once a year.

قَليلٌ عائِدي سَقِمٌ فُؤادي

كَثيرٌ حاسِدي صَعبٌ مَرامي

Weak in body, unable to rise,

My visitors are few, my heart is sick,

Drunk without wine, such is my bane.

My enviers many, and my goal far off.

عَليلُ الجِسمِ مُمتَنِعُ القِيامِ

شَديدُ السُكرِ مِن غَيرِ المُدامِ

My lover comes to me as if ashamed,

My body frail, unable to arise,

Only under night’s cover she’ll draw near.

Heavily drunk, though I have tasted no wine.

وَزائِرَتي كَأَنَّ بِها حَياءً

فَلَيسَ تَزورُ إِلّا في الظَلامِ

I offered up my coat, my rations,

My visitor arrives as if with shyness,

She refused them all, down to my bones.

For she will only visit in the dark.

بَذَلتُ لَها المَطارِفَ وَالحَشايا

فَعافَتها وَباتَت في عِظامي

My hide shrinks from my flesh and hers,

I offered her my linens and my silks;

Which she expands with every other woe.

She spurned them all to sleep within my bones.

يَضيقُ الجِلدُ عَن نَفسي وَعَنها

فَتوسِعُهُ بِأَنواعِ السِقامِ

When she leaves me, still she’ll wash me

My skin is far too tight to hold us both,

As if we both in penance were.

So she expands it with a strange disease.

إِذا ما فارَقَتني غَسَّلَتني

كَأَنّا عاكِفانِ عَلى حَرامِ

As if the dawn were chasing her, she runs,

And when she leaves, she bathes me in my sweat,

Four tears flow down like swords stabbed in.

As though we had committed secret sins.

كَأَنَّ الصُبحَ يَطرُدُها فَتَجري

مَدامِعُها بِأَربَعَةٍ سِجامِ

I watch her times with no yearning,

As if the morning drives her out, she flees,

As the enamored watches his beloved.

Her tears streaming in four distinct flows.

أُراقِبُ وَقتَها مِن غَيرِ شَوقٍ

مُراقَبَةَ المَشوقِ المُستَهامِ

And her promise is true, though truth can be

I watch for her arrival without love,

Dire when deep sorrow it does confirm.

Yet with the vigilance of one obsessed.

وَيَصدُقُ وَعدُها وَالصِدقُ شَرٌّ

إِذا أَلقاكَ في الكُرَبِ العِظامِ

To me, all womankind like daughters are,

She keeps her promise faithfully; yet truth

How did you pass through the throng to me?

Is evil when it brings such agony.

أَبِنتَ الدَهرِ عِندي كُلُّ بِنتٍ

فَكَيفَ وَصَلتِ أَنتِ مِنَ الزِحامِ

You have wounded one already wounded beyond cure,

O Daughter of Time, I have all your kin;

No place in him for swords or arrows more.

How did you find me through the crowding throng?

جَرَحتِ مُجَرَّحاً لَم يَبقَ فيهِ

مَكانٌ لِلسُيوفِ وَلا السِهامِ

Oh would that I knew if my hands might one day

You wound a body wounded everywhere,

Take reins or hold the bridle’s straps!

With no spot left for arrows or for swords.

أَلا يا لَيتَ شَعرَ يَدي أَتُمسي

تَصَرَّفُ في عِنانٍ أَو زِمامِ

Shall I toss my love to dancing girls

Oh, would my hand but know if it will hold

With anklets on their platforms jingling loud?

The horse’s rein or camel’s lead again?

وَهَل أَرمي هَوايَ بِراقِصاتٍ

مُحَلّاةِ المَقاوِدِ بِاللُغامِ

How often I have healed my bosom’s wounds

Shall I pursue my aim on dancing mounts,

With horse or canal or sword in hand!

Their leather halters decorated with foam?

فَرُبَّتَما شَفَيتُ غَليلَ صَدري

بِسَيرٍ أَو قَناةٍ أَو حُسامِ

Straitened the path, I slipped out from it

For often I have cured my burning chest

As wine slips free from the flask’s swollen womb.

By journey, or by spear-point, or by sword.

وَضاقَت خُطَّةٌ فَخَلَصتُ مِنها

خَلاصَ الخَمرِ مِن نَسجِ الفِدامِ

Without farewells, I left my darling one,

When circumstances tightened, I broke free,

Without greetings, I left the lands beyond.

As wine escapes the strainer's woven mesh.

وَفارَقتُ الحَبيبَ بِلا وَداعٍ

وَوَدَّعتُ البِلادَ بِلا سَلامِ

The doctor says, “You’ve eaten such and such,”

I left the beloved with no parting word,

But my malady is in my food and drink.

And quit the land without a last farewell.

يَقولُ لي الطَبيبُ أَكَلتَ شَيئاً

وَداؤُكَ في شَرابِكَ وَالطَعامِ

It vexes him that I’m a steed

The doctor asks me, "Did you eat some thing?

Whose body is weakened by prolonged thirst.

Your sickness lies within your food and drink."

وَما في طِبِّهِ أَنّي جَوادٌ

أَضَرَّ بِجِسمِهِ طولُ الجِمامِ

Who grew used to roaming through manor houses

His art knows not that I am like a steed

And plunging from darkness into darkness more.

Whose body suffers from too long a rest.

تَعَوَّدَ أَن يُغَبِّرَ في السَرايا

وَيَدخُلَ مِن قَتامِ في قَتامِ

Now held back, no more range does he have,

Accustomed to the dust of charging raids,

Neither pasture, nor tether, nor rein.

Plunging from battle-cloud to battle-cloud.

فَأُمسِكَ لا يُطالُ لَهُ فَيَرعى

وَلا هُوَ في العَليقِ وَلا اللِجامِ

If I fall ill, still my patience is unmarred,

Now held in check, denied the range to graze,

If I go blind, still my resolve is firm,

With neither bridle nor the feed he needs.

فَإِن أَمرَض فَما مَرِضَ اِصطِباري

وَإِن أُحمَم فَما حُمَّ اِعتِزامي

And if I die, nothing remains, but I have passed

For if I sicken, patience stays immune;

From sanctuary to sanctuary of my soul.

And if I burn, my will remains un-scorched.

وَإِن أَسلَم فَما أَبقى وَلَكِن

سَلِمتُ مِنَ الحِمامِ إِلى الحِمامِ

Take your pleasure in sleep or rest,

And if I live, I do not live for aye;

Yearn not for tombs beneath the earth.

I am but spared one death to meet the next.

تَمَتَّع مِن سُهادِ أَو رُقادٍ

وَلا تَأمُل كَرىً تَحتَ الرِجامِ

For the third of life’s states has meaning

So take your joy in wakefulness or sleep,

Other than your heedfulness, or dreams.

And hope for no repose beneath the stones.

فَإِنَّ لِثالِثِ الحالَينِ مَعنىً

سِوى مَعنى اِنتِباهِكَ وَالمَنامِ

For that third state holds meaning far distinct

From what you know of waking or of dreams.