ألا ليْتَ صَولةَ يومِ الحُبيلِ

وقد كشَر الموتُ عن نابهِ

Alas! O day of al-Hubyal,

When death bared its fangs,

وَقد صاحت الحربُ بالمُعلمين

ونادى الهَياجُ بأصحابِه

And war cried out to the banners,

And tumult called to its people,

وقد جَاش بالخيل بحرٌ يموجُ

فيرمي القُرُومَ بعَبَّابِه

When the sea surged with horses frothing,

Throwing riders with their mounts.

وَقد فرَّ عن نارها المائقونَ

وكلٌ تكشَّف عن عابِه

Those who would flee have fled

From its fires, all exposed in their shame.

يُشاهدُني والقنا شُرَّعٌ

وكلٌّ يكنَّى باْلقابِه

They see me though spears are leveled,

Each hinted by his nickname.

فَما ليثُ عِرّيسةٍ خادرٌ

يصُدُّ الكَتيبةَ عن غابِه

No cowardly lion in his den,

Warding off troops from his lair,

هزبرٌ همُوسٌ نجيعُ الأسودِ

عَلى لُبدَتيهِ وأنيابِه

Snoring, roaring, inciting the blacks,

His forepaws and fangs prepared.

بأشجَعَ مني غَداةَ الحُبيلِ

إذا الروّعُ سُرّي بجِلبابِه

Braver than I on the morn of Hubyal,

When fright dressed itself in gowns.

رَددتُ بسيفي خَميسَ الكُماة

على أثريِه وَأعقابِه

With my sword I repelled the violent assailants,

In their tracks and on their heels.

وممَّا شفاني عندَ اللّقاءِ

فَرارُ المليكِ وأنسابِه

And what delighted me in the encounter

Was the flight of the king and his noblemen.

كررْتُ عليهمْ فلْم يلبثوا

ومَا الموتُ عذبٌ لِشرَّابِه

I pressed them again and again, and soon

Death is not painful for its victim.

كأنَّهم دَرْدَق مُرتهنٌّ

تَوجَّسَ نَبأةَ كلاَّبِه

As if they were a flock of birds

Frightened of the barking of dogs.

تناوَلت عكلَّيُهمْ في الهياج

فَالثق سَلحاً بأثوبه

I grasped the tallest of them in the tumult

So stick to your weapon, lad!

كفَرخِ الحُباري بذي هبوةٍ

توَّخاهُ بازٍ بمخلابِه

Like the kite with the fox in its claws

That she gripped in her talons.

فخَرَّ على الحَزنِ مُستسلماً

يقي الرُّوحَ ذلاً بأسلابِه

He fell to grief in surrender,

Shielding his soul in rags.

فَظلَّ القُضاعيُّ تحت العجاجِ

وللنَّجع نضحٌ بأقرابِه

And so Quda'i remained under the dust,

As his family poured out their laments-

تطيلُ النساءُ عليه العَويلَ

ويَصرخن ثُكلاً بتَندابه

The women crying and wailing for him,

Scratching their cheeks in grief.

سخَوتُ بِه لذئاب المروِت

وَلم يكُ قدماً ليسُخَي بِه

I sacrificed him to the wolves of Murit,

And none could ransom him with treasure.

شريتُ بنفسي ثنَا الجَحْفلين

ولَلْحَمْدُ خير لِطُلاَّبهِ

I bought glory at the price of myself,

And praise belongs to its seeker.

وَمنْ يكُ مثلي كذا يَصطلي

بِنار الوَطيسَ وتلهابِه

And he who contends with me in glory,

With the fires of war and their heat,

فَيا من يُجاذبُني في الفخار

فأني وذي العرش أولى بِه

Then I, by God on High, am worthier of it

So spare yourself what you hoped for.

أرِحْ ويْك نفسَك مما رجوت

وخلِّ العظيمَ لرَكَّابِه

Leave the Glorious One to His riders,

Who kindles war after tranquility,

لِمن يُسعرُ الحربَ بعد الخُمود

ويدخل لليثِ في غابِه

And who makes the horses race madly

To the praiser's gate for his odes,

وَمن يهَبُ الخيلَ مجنوبةً

لهادي المديح لأبوابِه

The food of riders with narcissus wine

And pure drink in goblets,

وَقودِ الرَّكابِ معَ البهكنات

ومحض النُّضار بأكوابه

Who protects the innocent from harm

When fright wraps itself in gowns,

وَمن يمنعُ البيض ممَّا يسوءُ

إذا الرَّوُع ألوى بِهيّابِه

Who lays bare the sea's depths like

Clouds shedding their rain in torrents,

وَمنْ يفضحُ البحرَ عِلماً كَما

يسوءُ الغمامَ بتسْكابه

Who waters with sword and reddened blade,

As generosity is his nature.

ومن يُروِ بالسَّيف والسمْهريِّ

وذلك والجُودُ من دابِه

Ask the people, each will guide you to me,

So you may know the true from the false.

سل الناسَ يرشدْكَ كلٌّ عليَّ

لكيْ تعرِفَ الشُّهدَ من صابِه