أكفُّ البَرَايَا مِنْ تُرَاثِهِمُ صُفْرُ
وبِيْضُ المَنَايا من دِمَائِهُمُ حُمْرُ
The yellow hands have inherited their legacy,
And the white of death is from their blood red.
وخيلُ الرَزَايَا ماتزالُ مُعدَّةً
تقاتلُنَا فُرْسانُها ولها النَّصْرُ
The horses of misfortune are still prepared,
Their horsemen fight us and they have victory.
تكُرُّ علينا البِيضُ والسُّمْرُ بالردَى
فتبلغُ ما لا تبْلُغُ البِّيضُ والسُّمْرُ
The white and the brown attack us with calamity,
Reaching what neither white nor brown can reach.
ومَوْردُ هذا الدهرِ مُرٌّ وإنَّهُ
لأَعْذَبُ شيءٍ عندَنا ذَلكَ المُرُّ
The course of this life is bitter, yet for us,
That bitterness is the sweetest thing.
خليليَّ من أبناءِ بكرِ بنِ وائلٍ
قِفَا وانْدُبَا شَيْخاً بهِ فُجِعتْ بَكْرُ
My friend from the Bani Bakr tribe,
Stop and mourn for a shaykh who brought anguish to Bakr.
وبدراً تراءَى للنواظرِ فاهتدتْ
بِهِ بُرْهةً ثم اختفَى ذَلِكَ البَدْرُ
A full moon appeared to onlookers and guided
Burhah for a moment, then that moon disappeared.
وعَضْباً ثَنَتْ أيدي النوائِبِ حَدَّهُ
فهلاَّ اعتراها من مضاربِهِ عَقْرُ
Calamity bent its blade against him
So why didn't his thrusting spear counter it?
أرامي الرَّدَى أَخطَأْتَنا وأَصَبْتَهُ
أسأتَ لنا جُذَّتْ أَنامِلُكَ العَشْرُ
You who lie in the dust aimed the arrows of misfortune at us
And hit him - you did us wrong when your fingers missed their mark.
فَيَا أيُّها الثَّاوي الذي اتخَذَ الثَّرَى
مُقَاماً فَهَلاّ كَانَ صَدْري لَكَ القبرُ
O you who settled in the earth as a dwelling,
Why wasn't my chest your grave instead?
وهَلاَّ استخارَ الغَاسِلونَ مَدَامعي
لجسْمِكَ غُسْلاً ثم شِيبَ به السِّدْرُ
Why didn't the washers consult my tears
To wash your body, turning the myrtle trees white?
فإنْ جُعِلَ الماءُ القُرَاحُ برغمِ مَنْ
رآه لكم طُهْراً فأنتُمْ له طُهْرُ
If the washing water was seen as impure despite
Being cleansing for you, then you are purity itself.
وإن بَلِيتْ أكفانُكَ البيضُ في الثرى
فما بَلِيَ المعروفُ منكَ ولا الذكْرُ
If your white shrouds are worn in the earth,
Then neither your kindness nor your mention are worn.
أُوالُ سُقِيتِ صَوْبَ كلِّ مجلجلٍ
من المُزْنِ هَامٍ لا يجِفُّ له قَطْرُ
My tears were poured towards every rumbling
Cloud heavy with rain whose drops never cease.
كأنَّكِ مغناطيْسُ كلِّ مُهَذَّبِ
فما كاملٌ إلاّ وفيكِ له قَبْرُ
It is as if you are a magnet to every refined one -
No one is perfect unless in you he has his grave.
لِيَهْنِكَ فَخراً أنْ ظَفِرتَ بتربةٍ
يُعفَّرُ خَدٌّ دُونَ إدْرَاكِها الغُفْرُ
May it bring you pride that you obtained earth
Whose cheeks blush without attaining forgiveness.
ثوَى بِكَ من آلِ المُقَلَّدِ سَيّدٌ
هو الذَهَبُ الإبرِيزُ والعَالِمُ الصُّفْرُ
A master of the adorned family lies in you,
He is golden, brilliant, and learned.
فَتًى كَرُمتْ آبَاؤُهُ وجُدُودُهُ
وطَابَتْ مَسَاعيهِ فتمَّ لهُ الفخرُ
His fathers and forefathers were generous,
And his efforts were fruitful, bringing him pride.
عَفِيفٌ مُلاثُ البُرْدِ عن كلِّ زَلَّةٍ
وفي أذْنِهِ عن كلِّ فاحِشةٍ وَقْرُ
Virtuous, wearing the coat of chastity, safe from sin,
In his ear a barrier against every lewdness.
جَوَادٌ له في كلِّ أُنْمُلَةٍ بَحْرُ
بصيرٌ لهُ في كلِّ جَارِحَةٍ فِكْرُ
Generous, in each of his fingers an ocean,
Perceptive, in each of his senses deep wisdom.
ويا بَلَدَ الخَطِّ اعْتَرَاكِ لفقدِهِ
مدَى الدهرِ كَسْرٌ لا يُرَامُ لهُ جَبْرُ
O city of calligraphy, loss of him for eternity
Is a wound for which there is no mending.
مِنَ الآنَ بَدْءُ الشَّرِّ فيكِ وإنَّهُ
لمُتَّصِلٌ بَاقٍ وآخِرُهُ الحَشْرُ
From now begins the evil in you, which
Continues, remaining until the Day of Judgment.
فأيُّ فتًى لا يَرْهَبُ الضيمَ جَارُهُ
فقدتِ ويُسْرٌ لا يُمازِجُهُ عُسْرُ
What young man does not fear wronging his neighbor?
You have lost a comfort not mixed with hardship,
وليثُ وغىً لو قَابَلَ الليثَ أَعْزَلاً
وحَارَبَهُ لم يُغْنِهِ النابُ والظُّفْرُ
A lion, though fierce when facing a lion unarmed,
Who fights him cannot be helped by fang or victory.
فأُقسمُ لولا مَوْتُهُ في فِرَاشِهِ
لجُرِّدَتِ البِيضُ المُهنَّدَةُ البُتْرُ
I swear, were it not for his death in bed,
The readied white swords would be let loose,
وأُرعِشَتِ المُلْدُ المثقّفةُ السُّمرُ
وأقبلتِ الخَيْلُ المُسَوَّمَةُ الشُّقْرُ
The trained brown steeds roused,
The marked blond horses mobilized,
عليهنَّ من آلِ المُقَلَّدِ غِلْمَةٌ
مَسَاعِيرُ حَرْبٍ لا يضيعُ لها وِتْرُ
Against them, from the adorned family, some youths
Like the sparks of war, for whom no bowstring breaks.
تُثَقِّفُ مُنآدَ الرماحِ أكُفُّهُمْ
وتمنحُها طُوْلاً إذا شانَها قِصْرُ
They train the necks of the lances if they are short,
As if they and the horses in armor on them
كأنَّهُمُ والسابغاتُ عليهِمُ
إذَا ما دجَى ليلُ الوغَى أنجمٌ زُهرُ
Are shining stars when the darkness of battle descends.
If kindness made one man immortal,
ولو خَلَّدَ المعروفُ في الناسِ وَاحِداً
لَخلَّدَ عبدَاللهِ نَائِلُهُ الغَمْرُ
It would make immortal Abdullah, who attained its perfection.
But time came to him seeking
ولكنَّها الأيامُ جَاءَتْهُ تبتغِي
نَوَالاً فأَولاها نَوَالاً هُوَ العمرُ
His life, so he graciously granted it that request.
So greetings, O his grave, may its vegetation bloom
فيا قَبرَهُ حَيَّاكَ مُنْعَبِقُ الكَلا
ونَشَّرَ من أَبرادِهِ حَولَكَ الزَّهْرُ
And scatter flowers around you.
My sons, be patient - patience is the most beautiful garment
بَنِيهِ اصْبِرُوا فالصبرُ أَجملُ حُلَّةٍ
تردَّى بها مَنْ مَسَّ جَانِبَهُ الضُّرُّ
That covers one touched by harm.
If not for the passing of years, time itself would not perish,
فلولا انقضا الأَعْوَامِ ما فَنِي الدَّهرُ
ولولا فَنَا الأيامِ ما نَفَدَ الشهر
If not for the death of days, the months would not run out.
Below you is a pearl of deep thought,
ودونَكُمُ من لُجَّةِ الفِكْرِ دُرَّةً
مُنظَّمةً يعنُو لها النظمُ والنثرُ
Strung together, prose and verse inspired by it.
A maiden of eloquent speech bought for a bargain -
وعَذْرَاءَ من حُرِّ الكلامِ خريدةً
بأمثالِها في الشِّعْرِ يفتَخِرُ الشِّعْرُ
Poetry boasts no equal to her.
Her bride price is only your acceptance,
وَمَا مَهْرُهَا إلاَّ قَبُولُكُمُ لها
لقد كَرُمَتْ مَمْهُورَةً وغَلا المَهْرُ
She was honored for little, but her worth is high.
