وَالشَمسُ شاحِبَةُ الجَبينِ مَريضَةٌ
وَالريحُ خافِقَةُ الجَناحِ بَليلُ
The sun is pale-faced, sickly,
The wind flutters its wings in the night,
وَالبَرقُ مُنخَزِلٌ يُكِبُّ لِوَجهِهِ
وَيَمُجَّ روحَ الراحِ مِنهُ قَتيلُ
Lightning scowls and turns its face,
As the soul of comfort dies by its hand.
وَالكَأسُ طِرفٌ أَشقَرٌ قَد جالَ في
عَرقٍ عَلَيهِ مِن الحَبابِ يَسيلُ
The goblet has a blond rim that glimmers
With beads of sweat rolling down.
يَسعى بِها قَمَرٌ لَهُ وَلِكَأسِهِ
وَجهٌ أَغَرُّ وَمَبسِمٌ مَعسولُ
The moon pursues it, for the cup and its face
Are most tender, its smile sweetened.
شاكي السِلاحِ لِقَدِّهِ وَلِطَرفِهِ
رُمحٌ أَصَمُّ وَصارِمٌ مَسلولُ
My friend complains of its sword and edge,
A spear, deaf and unsheathed.
وَأَخٍ تَهُزُّ لَهُ العُلى أَعطافَها
فَكَأَنَّهُ رَيحانَةٌ وَشُمولُ
A brother whose stately height sways,
As though he were fragrant basil.
راضَعتُهُ كَأسَ المُدامِ وَبَينَنا
بِجَنى الحَديثِ حَديقَةٌ وَقَبولُ
I suckled at the wine’s cup ‘twixt us
A garden bloomed in the paradise of talk.
مَيّاسُ أَعطافِ السَماحِ كَأَنَّهُ
غُصنٌ تَنَفَّسَ نَورُهُ مَطلولُ
The inclination of his genteel sides seems
A branch breathing light set free.
تَندى لَها وَرداً أَسِرَّةُ كَفِّهِ
أَبَداً وَبَطنُ يَمينِهِ مَبلولُ
The petals of his palm distill dew,
The belly of his right hand overflowing.
طَلقُ الجَبينِ وَلِلحُسامِ تَبَسَّمٌ
طاوي المَصيرِ وَبِالقَناةِ ذُبولُ
Serene of brow, his sword smiles,
Fateful, languorous, withering in its sheath.
لِلناسِ فيهِ مِنَ الكَلامِ شَواهِدٌ
وَبِمَضرَبِ السَيفِ الجُرازِ فُلولُ
In him, people find eloquent testaments,
And in the strike of his sword, remnants.
يَمتاحُ أَرواحَ الكُماةِ بِكَفِّهِ
شَطنٌ يُمَرُّ مِنَ القَنا مَفتولُ
With his palm he quenches the souls of warriors,
A torrent pouring out the valleys.
في حَيثُ مِن حُرِّ الطِعانِ هَجيرَةٌ
تُحمى وَمِن ظِلِّ اللِواءِ مَقيلُ
Where the whinny of the piercing blades sounds,
Sheltered, and in the shade of banners, rest.
وَالنَقعُ أَدهَمُ لِلرِماحِ بِوَجهِهِ
غُرَرٌ تَلوحُ وَلِلسُيوفِ حُجولُ
The plain turns red for the spears on its face,
Temptations glisten, swords blaze.
وَالخَيلُ سَطرٌ بِالأَسِنَّةِ مُعجَمٌ
وَبِحَدِّ أَلسِنَةِ الظُبى مَشكولُ
Horses inscribe occult letters with their tongues,
Encrypted by the tongues of mountain gazelles.
