أَجَدَّ بِعَمرَةَ غُنيانُها
فَتَهجُرَ أَم شَأنُنا شانُها
Amrah's youth has made her wealth grow
So did she shun us or was it just our affair?
وَإِن تُمسِ شَطَّت بِها دارُها
وَباحَ لَكَ اليَومَ هِجرانُها
And if she grazed in her abode
Today her estrangement has reached you
فَما رَوضَةٌ مِن رِياضِ القَطا
كَأَنَّ المَصابيحَ حَوذانُها
No garden of gardens is like Qata’s
As if its lanterns are its firebrands
بِأَحسَنَ مِنها وَلا مُزنَةٌ
دَلوحٌ تَكَشَّفُ أَدجانُها
None fairer than she nor slender as a branch
A bucket whose darkness has cleared
وَعَمرَةُ مِن سَرَواتِ النِسا
ءِ تَنفَحُ بِالمِسكِ أَردانُها
Amrah is of the lofty women
Who scent with musk their veils
وَنَحنُ الفَوارِسُ يَومَ الرَبي
عِ قَد عَلِموا كَيفَ فُرسانُها
And we are the horsemen on the day of mounted foray
Who know well how to charge as horsemen
جَنَبنا الحِرابَ وَراءَ الصَري
خِ حَتّى تَقَصَّفَ مُرّانُها
We kept the swords behind the bow cases
Until their sharp edges were blunted
فَلَمّا اِستَقَلَّ كَلَيثِ الغَري
فِ زانَ الكَتيبَةَ أَعوانُها
When the lion of war grew independent
His helpers strengthened the battalion
تَراهُنَّ يُخلَجنَ خَلجَ الدِلا
ءِ تَختَلِجُ النَزعَ أَشطانُها
You see them quiver with the quiver of shields
As the death-throes make the spears quiver
وَلاقى الشَقاءَ لَدى حَربِنا
دُحَيٌّ وَعَوفٌ وَإِخوانُها
And at our battle Duhy and Awaf met doom
And their brothers and comrades
رَدَدنا الكَتيبَةَ مَفلولَةً
بِها أَفنُها وَبِها ذانُها
We turned back the battalion routed
Destroying it with the same that made it
وَقَد عَلِموا أَن مَتى نَنبَعِث
عَلى مِثلِها تَذكُ نيرانُها
And they knew that whenever we rise against its like
Its fires will remember us
وَلَولا كَراهَةُ سَفكِ الدِماءِ
لَعادَ لِيَثرِبَ أَديانُها
And but for abhorrence of bloodshed
Its rivers would have watered its valleys
وَيَثرِبُ تَعلَمُ أَنَّ النَبي
تَ راسٍ بِيَثرِبَ ميزانُها
Yathrib knows well that the Prophet
Makes Yathrib's scales even
حِسانُ الوُجوهِ حِدادُ السُيو
فِ يَبتَدِرُ المَجدَ شُبّانُها
Beauty of face, mourning of swords
Youths hastening to glory
وَبِالشَوطِ مِن يَثرِبٍ أَعبُدٌ
سَتَهلِكُ في الخَمرِ أَثمانُها
And by trot from Yathrib Abbed
Will waste its riches in wine
يَهونُ عَلى الأَوسِ أَثمانُهُم
إِذا راحَ يَخطِرُ نَشوانُها
Cheap to the Aws seem their riches
When their drinking-bouts grow riotous
أَتَتهُم عَرانينُ مِن مالِكٍ
سِراعٌ إِلى الرَوعِ فِتيانُها
There came to them maidens of Malik
Youths rushing to fright them
وَقَد عَلِموا أَنَّ ما فَلَّهُم
حَديدُ النَبيتِ وَأَعيانُها
And they knew that what undid them
Were the Prophet's swords and helpers
