ظُبى المَواضي وَأَطرافُ القَنا الذُبُلِ
ضَوامِنٌ لَكَ ما حازوهُ مِن نَفَلِ
The meadows are in bloom, the canals overflow,
Sheltering you, gaining merits not lightly won;
وَكافِلٌ لَكَ كافٍ ما تُحاوِلُهُ
عِزٌّ وَعَزمٌ وَبأسٌ غير مُنتَحلِ
Backing you, enough backing to attain your goal -
Honor and resolve no faint heart has claimed.
وَما يَعيبُكَ ما نالوهُ مِن سَلَبٍ
بالخَتلِ قَد توتَر الآسادُ بالحيَلِ
Do not fret if they took some small spoils By guile did the lions unsheathe to strike.
In their cowardice they chose to deceive,
وَإِنَّما أَخلَدوا جُبناً الى خُدَع
إِذ لَم يَكُن لَهمُ بالجَيشِ مِن قِبَلِ
When they had no might against your brave troops.
Rouse yourselves! God willed your heedlessness
واِستَيقظوا وَأَرادَ اللَهُ غَفلَتُكُم
لِيَنفُذَ القَدرُ المَحتومُ في الأَزلِ
To allow fate's decree, ordained from of old.
They came at you - no shying steeds amid the billows -
حَتّى أَتوكم وَلا الماذيُّ مِن أَمَمٍ
وَلا الظُبى كَثَبٌ من مُرهَقٍ عِجِلِ
No antelope bounding from weary roads.
Soft bows, slack string, restless horses
قَناً لَقىً وقِسيٌّ غَيرُ موتَرَةٍ
وَالخَيلُ عازِبَةٌ تَرعى مَع الهَمَلِ
Grazing with mountain goats. Of what use
Are fangs and claws against thickets and dens?
ما يَصنَعُ اللَيثُ لا نابٌ وَلا ظَفَرٌ
بِما حوالَيهِ مِن عُفرٍ وَمِن وَعُلِ
The lion bestrode the eagles and harried
The antelope into acacia woods.
هَلا وَقَد رَكِبَ الأُسدُ الصُقورَ وَقَد
سلّوا الظُبى تَحتَ غاباتٍ مِن الأَسَلِ
Arrows flew from the quivers of every lithe bowman.
And they were split into bands in their own land,
مِن كُلِّ ضافيَةِ السِربالِ صافيَة القِذاف
بالنَبل فيها الخَذف بالنبلِ
The least pushed the greatest in their haste.
Only - they squandered their wits trusting
وَأَصبَحوا فِرقاً في أَرضهم فَرَقاً
يَجوس أَدناهُم الأَقصى عَلى مَهَلِ
In their numbers...and many a confident one falls.
Sons of the blond! Your wiles brought you nothing,
وانَّما هُم أَضاعوا حَزمَهُم ثِقَةً
بِجَمعِهِم وَلَكم مِن واثِقٍ خَجِل
For cunning in every man is kin to failure.
You returned with no noble captives. Only weaklings, followers, the dregs!
بَني الأَصيفر ما نِلتُم بمكرِكُمُ
وَالمَكرُ في كُلِّ انسانٍ أَخو الفَشَلِ
You stripped the threshing floors, carried off Bare white grain bags, seized chickens from their coops!
Does he who takes horses match their riders for speed?
وَما رَجعتُم بأَسرى خابَ سَعيُكَمُ
غير الأَصاغِر والأَتباع وَالسَفَلِ
Is the man who takes arms like their owner in battle
Where conflict spins on the palm of the wrestler?
سَلَبتُمُ الجُردَ مُعراةً بِلا لُجُمٍ
والسُمرَ مَركوزَةً وَالبيضَ في الخِلَلِ
An army touched by the evil eye - though no army
Lacks some flaw, and this army of ours is peerless!
هَل آخذٌ الخَيلِ قَد أَردى فَوارِسَها
مثالُ أَخذِها في الشَكلِ وَالطوَلِ
The day of Hunain remains their exemplar
As they are the best of all people with the Seal of Prophets among them.
أَم سالِبُ الرُمحِ مَكوزا كَسالِبِهِ
وَالحَربُ دائِرَةٌ مِن كَفِّ مُعتَقِلِ
With a single strike they will squeeze you as though
You were but white chickens, quaking sparrows!
جَيشٌ أَصابَتهُمُ عينُ الكَمالِ وَما
يَخلو مِن العَينِ الّا غَيرُ مُكتَمِلِ
A king of utmost dignity, of proven integrity
In word and action purer than the immaculate pearl;
لهم بِيَومِ حُنَينٍ أُسوَةٌ وَهُمَ
خَيرُ الأَنام وَفيهم خاتمُ الرُسُل
Dawn has not yet faded, the sun has not set,
No sword has snapped, no thongs have given way.
سَيَتَضيكُم بِضَربٍ عِند أَهوَنِه
أَلبيضُ كالبيضِ والأدراع كالحُلَلِ
What multitudes the light of Faith has saved
From darkness! What throngs, for the darkness thick within,
مَلِكٌ بَعيدٌ مِن الأَدناس ذو كَلَفٍ
بِالصِدق في القَول والاخلاص في العمل
It has made to see! For how many, at the encounter
Did their eyes now modestly drop, gaze down in shame!
فالسمر ما أَصبحت وَالشَمسُ ما أَفلَتِ
وَالسَيفُ ما فُلّ وَالأَطواد لَم تَزُلِ
A land where none was visible but some hero;
Now none is seen but some old pile of rubble.
كَم قَد تَجَلَّت بِنورِ الدينِ مِن ظُلَمٍ
لِلظُلم واِنجابَ للاظلالِ مِن ظُلَلِ
Say to them who have turned their backs:
"Where is your modesty? Hide your gaze, eyes downcast!"
وَكَم لِعُمري كفّوا الطَرف مِن جُبُنٍ
عِندَ اللِقاء وَغضّوا الطَرف مِن خَجلِ
The easy way spelled salvation, but had you clung
To your king, you'd have found the uphill path more sweet.
وَبَلدةٍ ما يُرى فيها سِوى بَطَلٍ
فَأَصبحت ما يُرى فيها سِوى طَلَلِ
You left him exposed, but he granted you quarter Such as if a mountain goat sought would not find!
Still you raced off, hoards lost, neither stumbling nor forced,
قُل للمُولّين كُفّوا الطَرفَ مِن جُبُنٍ
عِندَ اللِقاء وَغضّوا الطَرف مِن خَجلِ
Bare steeds unsaddled, white stocks driven down no ravines,
Nor were you struck by the moan of bolts,
طَلَبتُم السَهلَ تَبغونَ النَجاةَ وَلَو
لُذتُم بِمَلكِكُم لُذتم إِلى الجَبَل
Nor were swords reddened for flesh in the evening light.
He stood alone
أَسلَمتُموهُ وَوَلَّيتُم فَسَلَّمَكُم
بِرِفقَةٍ لَو بَغاها الطَودُ لَم يَنَلِ
Till his troops were around him, a band
To witness it leopards would drop their jaws -
مُسارِعين وَلَم تُنثل كَنائنُكم
وَالسُمر لَم تُبتَذَل وَالبيض لَم تُذلِ
Some fled their reason, some firm-rooted stood stared,
Heedless of them, he walked his rage concealed,
وَلا طَرَقتُم بوَبلِ النَبلِ طارِقَةً
وَلا تَغَلغَلَت الأَسيافُ في القُلَلِ
To press them the more as the back way means no escape.
Your nearest is farther than those you deem farthest
فَقامَ فَرداً وَقَد دَلَّت عَساكِرُهُ
فَكانَ مِن نَفسه في جَحفَلٍ زَجِلِ
As though you had no notion of his whereabouts.
His firmness in your horses' hearts preserved Your spirits beyond what nerveless breasts could bear.
في مَشهَدٍ لَو لُيوثُ الغيل تَشدهُ
خَرَّت لأذقانها مِن شِدَّةِ الوَجلِ
The lion in repose is seldom surprised,
Nor does fate allow the valiant mid assault rash harm.
وسطَ العِدى وَحدَه ثبت الجِنان وَقَد
طارَت قُلوبٌ عَلى بُعدٍ مِن الوَهَلِ
God support you in your aim
As once he supported you in your first feats!
يَعودُ فيهم روَيداً غَيرَ مُكتَرِثٍ
بِهِم وَقَد كَرَّ فيهم غَيرَ مُحتَفِلِ
What spoils and wealth you gained without return!
What lands you took, keeping as your earned domains!
يَزدادُ قُدماً اليهم مِن تَيقُّنِهِ
أَنَّ التأخر لا يَحمي مِن الأَجَلِ
What flow you gave high streams from a lordly cloth!
What settlements you watered from a hero's bowl!
ما كانَ أَقربَهُم مِن أَسرِ أَبعدِكُم
لَو أَنَّهُم لَم يَكونوا عنه في شُغُلِ
Dark blood of gashed throats his courser wades;
No flesh is sweeter than the meager evening meal!
ثَباته في صُدورِ الخَيلِ أَنقَذَكُم
لا تَحسَبوا وَثَباتِ الضُمَّرِ الذُلَلِ
Your sword harvesting the foe you let lie a season.
Shorter his respite, the less your saber dulled!
ما كل حينٍ تُصابُ الأُسدُ غافِلَةً
وَلا يُصيبُ الشَديدَ البَطشِ ذو الشَلَلِ
Your arrows never miss their destined quoit;
No day has turned your hands from holding their course!
وَاللَه عَونكَ فيما أَنتَ مُزمِعُهُ
كَما أَعانَكَ في أَيّامِكَ الأَوَلِ
كَم قَد ملكت لهم مُلكاً بِلا عِوَضٍ
وَحُزتَ مِن بَلَدٍ مِنها بِلا بَدَلِ
وَكَم سَقَيتَ العَوالي مِن طُلى مَلِكٍ
وَكَم قَرَيتَ العَوافي مِن قَرا بَطل
وَأَسمَرٍ مِن وَريد النَحرِ مورِدُهُ
وَأَجَدلَ أَكلهُ مِن لَحمِ مُنجَدِلِ
حَصيدُ سَيفك قَد أَعفَيته زَمَناً
لَو لَم يَطُل عَهدُه بالسَيفِ لَم يَطُلِ
لانكَبَّت سَهمكَ الأَقدارُ عَن غَرَضٍ
وَلا ثَنَت يَدَكَ الأَيّامُ عَن أَمَلِ
