ضَيفٌ أَلَمَّ بِرَأسي غَيرَ مُحتَشِمِ

وَالسَيفُ أَحسَنُ فِعلاً مِنهُ بِاللِمَمِ

A guest has squeezed my head without modesty

A guest has struck my head without shame, / And the sword deals better with hair than he.

And the sword acts better than it with gentleness

Begone—may you be far! A whiteness with no light, / For you are blacker in my eyes than the deepest gloom.

إِبعِد بَعِدتَ بَياضاً لا بَياضَ لَهُ

لَأَنتَ أَسوَدُ في عَيني مِنَ الظُلَمِ

Stay away, you have kept away paleness without paleness for it

My sustenance is the love of my slayer and old age; / My passion is a child, while my gray hair is full-grown.

You are darker in my eyes than darkness

I pass no ruin without questioning its stones, / Nor a veiled beauty who does not shed my blood.

بِحُبِّ قاتِلَتي وَالشَيبِ تَغذِيَتي

هَوايَ طِفلاً وَشَيبي بالِغَ الحُلُمِ

With love for my killer and gray hair I was nourished

She sighed, revealing a loyalty unbroken, / On the day of departure, amidst a union torn apart.

My passion a child and my gray hair of mature wisdom

I kissed her, my tears mingling with hers, / And she kissed me, amidst her fear, mouth to mouth.

فَما أَمُرُّ بِرَسمٍ لا أُسائِلُهُ

وَلا بِذاتِ خِمارٍ لا تُريقُ دَمي

I do not pass by a depiction I do not ask about

I tasted the water of life from her lips; / Had it fallen on dust, it would have revived nations long dead.

Nor a veiled one whose wine does not shed my blood

She gazes at me with a gazelle's eye, sobbing, / Wiping dew from the rose with fingers soft as red branches.

تَنَفَّسَت عَن وَفاءٍ غَيرِ مُنصَدِعٍ

يَومَ الرَحيلِ وَشَعبٍ غَيرِ مُلتئِمِ

She breathed with loyalty that was not fragmented

Go gently with your judgment, O unjust one; / I ransom you above all mankind as my judge.

The day of departure and people that were not brought together

You revealed such grief as I revealed, / But you did not harbor the pain that I held hidden.

قَبَّلتُها وَدُموعي مَزجُ أَدمُعِها

وَقَبَّلَتني عَلى خَوفٍ فَماً لِفَمِ

I kissed her while my tears blended with her tears

Then the least of it would have stripped you of beauty's robe, / And you would be, like me, clad in the twin garments of sickness.

And she kissed me in fearful mouth to mouth

To comfort myself with empty hopes is not my desire, / Nor is contentment with little part of my nature.

فَذُقتُ ماءَ حَياةٍ مِن مُقَبَّلِها

لَو صابَ تُرباً لَأَحيا سالِفَ الأُمَمِ

I tasted the water of life from her kiss

I do not think the daughters of Fate will leave me be, / Until my ambitions block every path against them.

If it poured on dust it would revive past nations

Blame the nights that have ravaged my substance / With the frailty of my state; excuse me, and cast no blame.

تَرنو إِلَيَّ بِعَينِ الظَبيِ مُجهِشَةً

وَتَمسَحُ الطَلَّ فَوقَ الوَردِ بِالعَنَمِ

She looks to me with the eye of a startled gazelle

I see men whose harvest is but sheep, / And fame of generosity whose harvest is mere words.

And wipes the morning dew over roses with her Softness

Many a wealthy man is a pauper in chivalry, / Gaining no riches there, though he rose from nothing.

رُوَيدَ حُكمَكِ فينا غَيرَ مُنصِفَةٍ

بِالناسِ كُلِّهِمِ أَفديكِ مِن حَكَمِ

Restrain your judgement of us, unjustified

The blade shall find in me a companion sharp as its edge, / And my fame shall ring out, clearing the deafest ears.

With all the people, I ransom you from judgement

I have endured until endurance is no more; / Now I shall charge until no breach remains to storm.

أَبدَيتِ مِثلَ الَّذي أَبدَيتُ مِن جَزَعٍ

وَلَم تُجِنّي الَّذي أَجنَنتُ مِن أَلَمِ

You have shown the same despair I have shown

I shall leave the faces of the horses gaunt and grim, / While war stands straighter than a leg upon a foot.

And did not drive me mad like I have been driven mad from pain

The thrusts burn them, the shouts unsettle them, / Until they seem possessed by a touch of madness.

إِذاً لَبَزَّكَ ثَوبَ الحُسنِ أَصغَرُهُ

وَصِرتِ مِثلِيَ في ثَوبَينِ مِن سَقَمِ

So the garment of beauty loosened upon you while still small

The spear-points have wounded them, leaving them scowling, / As if bitter colocynth were bound upon their bits.

And you became like me in two garments of sickness

With every drawn blade that has long awaited me, / Until I raised it from servitude to sovereign power.

لَيسَ التَعَلُّلُ بِالآمالِ مِن أَرَبي

وَلا القَناعَةُ بِالإِقلالِ مِن شِيَمي

Coveting hope is not the habit of a sound person

A master who deems the five prayers but a voluntary act, / And makes lawful the blood of pilgrims in the Sanctuary.

Nor is contentment with less the trait of my character

Whenever the lions of the battalions are struck by it in the dust, / They aim for it, yet it remains unyielding.

وَلا أَظُنُّ بَناتِ الدَهرِ تَترُكُني

حَتّى تَسُدَّ عَلَيها طُرقَها هِمَمي

Nor do I think the daughters of fate will leave me

My lightning makes the lands forget the storm-cloud's flash, / Content with flowing blood instead of falling rain.

Until its paths are blocked to them by my resolves

Drink from the pools of death, O my soul, and leave / The pools of fear to the sheep and the cattle.

لُمِ اللَيالي الَّتي أَخنَت عَلى جِدَتي

بِرِقَّةِ الحالِ وَاِعذُرني وَلا تَلُمِ

Blame the nights that cheated my grandmother

If I do not leave you flowing upon the spears, / Then let me not be called the son of Glory and Grace.

With the delicacy of the situation, excuse me and do not blame

Does mere meat upon a butcher's block possess the realm, / While the swords go thirsty and the vultures starve?

أَرى أُناساً وَمَحصولي عَلى غَنَمٍ

وَذِكرَ جودٍ وَمَحصولي عَلى الكَلِمِ

I see people whose harvest is sheep

One who, if he saw me as water, would die of thirst, / And if I appeared in his dreams, would never sleep again.

And the mention of generosity while my harvest is words

The tryst of every sharp, thin blade is set for tomorrow, / With all who rebel among the kings of Arab and Persian lands.

وَرَبَّ مالٍ فَقيراً مِن مُروَّتِهِ

لَم يُثرِ مِنها كَما أَثرى مِنَ العَدَمِ

And a wealthy man made poor by his magnanimity

If they submit, I aim not my steel at them; / If they turn away, I deem them unworthy prey for my sword.

He did not become rich from it as he enriched from non-existence

سَيَصحَبُ النَصلُ مِنّي مِثلَ مَضرِبِهِ

وَيَنجَلي خَبَري عَن صِمَّةِ الصِمَمِ

The blade will accompany from me like its wielder

And my matter will become clear from the deafness of the deaf

لَقَد تَصَبَّرتُ حَتّى لاتَ مُصطَبَرٍ

فَالآنَ أُقحِمُ حَتّى لاتَ مُقتَحَمِ

I have endured until I surpassed the enduring

Now I plunge until I surpass the plunged

لَأَترُكَنَّ وُجوهَ الخَيلِ ساهِمَةً

وَالحَربُ أَقوَمُ مِن ساقٍ عَلى قَدَمِ

I will leave the faces of horses quivering

And war is more erect than a leg upon a foot

وَالطَعنُ يُحرِقُها وَالزَجرُ يُقلِقُها

حَتّى كَأَنَّ بِها ضَرباً مِنَ اللَمَمِ

And the stab sets them ablaze and the shout startles them

As if among them is a kind of test from afflictions

قَد كَلَّمَتها العَوالي فَهيَ كالِحَةٌ

كَأَنَّما الصابُ مَعصوبٌ عَلى اللُجُمِ

The lofty places have spoken to them, so they yearn

As if the bridle is clasped upon the gums

بِكُلِّ مُنصَلِتٍ ما زالَ مُنتَظِري

حَتّى أَدَلتُ لَهُ مِن دَولَةِ الخَدَمِ

With every blade that is unsheathed, it awaits me

Until I submit to it from the course of servants

شَيخٍ يَرى الصَلَواتِ الخَمسَ نافِلَةً

وَيَستَحِلُّ دَمَ الحُجّاجِ في الحَرَمِ

An old man who sees the five prayers as voluntary

And sees shedding the blood of pilgrims in the sanctuary as permissible

وَكُلَّما نُطِحَت تَحتَ العَجاجِ بِهِ

أُسدُ الكَتائِبِ رامَتهُ وَلَم يَرِمِ

And whenever he is gored beneath the nostrils with it

The lion of battalions, his thrower, did not throw

تُنسى البِلادَ بُروقَ الجَرِّ بارِقَتي

وَتَكتَفي بِالدَمِ الجاري عَنِ الدِيَمِ

The lands forget the flashes of the drawn sword blazing

And are content with the blood pouring from the veins

رِدي حِياضَ الرَدى يا نَفسُ وَاِتَّرِكي

حِياضَ خَوفِ الرَدى لِلشاءِ وَالنِعَمِ

Return the paddocks of destruction, O self, and leave

The paddocks of fear of destruction for the sheep and goats

إِن لَم أَذَركِ عَلى الأَرماحِ سائِلَةً

فَلا دُعيتُ اِبنَ أُمِّ المَجدِ وَالكَرَمِ

If I do not leave you asking about the spears

Then I am not called the son of the mother of glory and generosity

أَيَملِكُ المُلكَ وَالأَسيافُ ظامِئَةٌ

وَالطَيرُ جائِعَةٌ لَحمٌ عَلى وَضَمِ

Do I possess the kingdom while swords are thirsty

And birds hungry for flesh upon worry

مَن لَو رَآنِيَ ماءً ماتَ مِن ظَمَأٍ

وَلَو مَثَلتُ لَهُ في النَومِ لَم يَنَمِ

One who if he saw me thirsty, he would die of thirst

And if I appeared to him in sleep, he would not sleep

ميعادُ كُلِّ رَقيقِ الشَفرَتَينِ غَداً

وَمَن عَصى مِن مُلوكِ العُربِ وَالعَجَمِ

The promised time for all soft bellied slaves is tomorrow

And those among the kings of Arabs and non-Arabs who disobeyed

فَإِن أَجابوا فَما قَصدي بِها لَهُمُ

وَإِن تَوَلَّوا فَما أَرضى لَها بِهِمِ

If they respond, I do not intend them by it

And if they turn away, I am not pleased with them for it