هو منزل النجوى بخالي الأعصر — Sardar

It is the abode of intimate converse in bygone ages.

Whenever the riding camels pass beyond it, may they be hamstrung.

I yearn for their home, and nothing draws my yearning

but the nearness of the dark-eyed gazelle.

I favor the visiting phantom, for they

have deserted me, while their phantoms have not.

I am content with a promise from them that is not awaited,

and with a visit from the phantom that does not pass.

Neither is their water for one complaining of thirst, nor

their fires for one seeking a firebrand and light.

They grew wealthy, yet did not pay the debts owed their creditor.

And baseness, worthy of every blame, is a rich man's delaying payment.

Will you heed a groan from one wasted by illness,

or grant a request from an impoverished man?

Or will you leave some tears remaining

for my eye to face the day of separation?

Not one of you passed by herds of oryx

without their recognizing in him an oryx calf's eye.

O you who linger bewildered among the traces of the protected pasture,

tracing its landmarks with unrecognizing eyes:

seek the ban-tree's slender bough among their cloaks,

and seek the sand dune beneath the waistcloth.

And if you desire the full moon, cast a glance

toward its rising places between al-Liwa and Muhajjar.

Will you redress, O meadow of al-Aqiq, a grievance

brought before you by the lean young she-camels?

Beware of treading tender herbage with a pad

of theirs, and of grazing Hellfire with a lip.

Were it not for the swift travel of the camels swaying through the desert,

the man of Najd would not be bereft of the one bound for the lowlands.

So may they go deaf, until their ears no longer hear

thunder's neighing in a massed, rain-bearing cloud.

And may they go blind, until their eyes no longer see

lightning like the chestnut stallion's forelock.

If you see what I see, then look at

ban-trees upon the shoulders of laden palms.

It is as though they raised their domes upon

trees whose fruit is the ladies of the howdahs.

O you who delight the desert's wild beasts with their beauty,

what sin has the lovesick, besotted man's eye committed?

You left your true-hearted friend behind you,

like a dead man, save that he was not buried,

with tear-streams that have not yet ebbed, and fractures

unmended, and wounds that have not been probed.

Whenever the reproaching women extinguish his passions,

a sigh of remembrance rekindles their blaze.

Beware your cheek-down while the cheek-down is still dark;

when the dawn of gray hair appears, desist.

A white blemish that fair women shun for fear of

contagion: if it comes near them, they flee.

I never thought that the sword of my forelock

would be blunted by repeated gleaming burnishing.

Rust on the blades of hair is more telling than

the hue of polish as a sign of noble substance.

Shall I travel through pitch-dark night and find my way,

yet go astray when journeying through a moonlit night?

You praised to me the hue of gray hair, saying it

was camphor, forgetting the hue of ambergris.

And if you couple praise of the vizier

with those two, both yield to the keen-scented, more fragrant one.

For Dhu al-Sa'adat, Ibn Ja'far, has a disposition

of unmixed strong wine and pungent musk.

There are seven seas on earth, while his right hand

and his left flow with ten seas.

The two are rainclouds whose water is his silver,

and whose lightning is red gold.

His fingertips divided gifts among mankind,

as though they had cast the gaming arrows.

When the heavily pregnant she-camels of wealth seek refuge in his hand,

they have indeed hobbled themselves at a slaughtering place.

And a reproached man—his reproachers found it beyond them

to clip, in his generosity, a howling wind's wing.

He is the generous one; they merely envied his name,

and so, among themselves, called him a squanderer.

They sought what was allotted him, but their hopes were dashed;

and it is toil to seek what has not been decreed.

The noblest imitated him in his deeds,

and were credited with counterfeit generosity.

He kept searching the hidden thoughts of his visitors

until he answered their unspoken request.

The impoverished march upon him, knowing

that his bounty lies unguarded.

Every day they bridle their mounts for a raid,

so his years contain no sacred months.

He inhales the perfume of praise with his hearing;

not every fragrance is smelled through a nostril.

Ever vigilant, whenever a breath touches him

of thanks upon the knots of hopes, he is bewitched.

He strives and labors, then dissipates what he has amassed:

the habits of a splendid man placed at mankind's service.

By God, we swear there is no worth in

standing or lineage for one who earns no thanks.

Were his roots unknown, his qualities would tell

of the goodness of his stock.

He adorned his inner worth with the fairest appearance,

and supported his appearance with the finest inner worth.

No one crowned or girdled with gold

equals one necklaced and braceleted with noble deeds.

The reed-pen shafts in his hand imitate

the action of spears swaying in Samhar.

They seem like orators above his fingertips,

yet their eloquence is the pulpit's speech.

May his high ambitions never perish—if they were lodged

among the stars, Jupiter would claim them.

And resolves that weld notched sword-edges

and straighten the spines of bent spears.

His bowed head is feared, and his silence dreaded;

a sword is feared even when not unsheathed.

But for you, the earth would not have been roused by camel-pads

mixing the belly of its soil with its back,

and by gaunt camels whose gaze rests on the Daughters of Na'sh,

while their pads comb through the 'Daughters of al-Awbar' truffles.

So they came to you like she-ghouls, paired

with shadowy riders like the jinn of Abqar.

They forced the stars to journey by night, and learned

from the crooked-necked mounts how to wade through darkness.

They do not see their fatigue and pallor

except in the mirror of brightening morning.

They wore coats of mail only out of suspicion,

not from fear of a white sword or a brown spear.

If they do not kneel their mounts in your shelter, then I

am surely guarantor for every congratulator and bearer of good news.

Renew at the Persians' Nowruz a rank

toward the Milky Way, or a little above the Eagles.

Let your grazing herd roam in gardens of happiness

and abundant grass flowering with exalted glory.

When you come to water, may it be the sweetest watering place's water;

and when you depart, repose in the most spacious place of departure.

I have offered you, from my words, a greeting,

radiant, calling forth the lute's plaintive strains.

Had I stored away money or kept it

for a day, I would have repaid you in white silver and yellow gold.