عَفا المُصَلّى وَأَقوَتِ الكُثُبُ

مِنِّيَ فَالمِربِدانِ فَاللَبَبُ

The mosque, the great gathering place of religion, has crumbled,

The prayer-ground is effaced, the dunes are desolate,

As have the monasteries and the open plains.

From Mina, to Al-Mirbadan, to Al-Labab.

فَالمَسجِدُ الجامِعُ المُروأَةِ وَال

دينِ عَفا فَالصِحانُ فَالرَحَبُ

I built them up over years of hard work

The Congregational Mosque of virtue and of

Until my youthful vigor began to fade.

Faith is effaced—its courtyards and its halls.

مَنازِلٌ قَد عَمَرتُها يَفعاً

حَتّى بَدا في عِذارِيَ الشَهَبُ

They were filled with young men like swords -

Dwellings I inhabited in the bloom of adolescence,

Cracked by the flame of youth but tempered with discipline.

Until the gray of age appeared upon my temples.

في فِتيَةٍ كَالسُيوفِ هَزَّهُمُ

شَرخُ شَبابٍ وَزانَهُم أَدَبُ

Then time turned against them, and they scattered,

Among young men like swords, shaken and unsheathed

Taking up the reins of fate in foreign lands.

By the prime of youth, and graced with courtly art.

ثُمَّ أَرابَ الزَمانُ فَاِقتَسَموا

أَيدي سَبا في البِلادِ فَاِنشَعَبوا

Never again will time produce their like -

Then Time cast doubt, and they were torn apart,

How wondrous they were! Their memory amazes me!

Scattered through the lands like the hands of Saba.

لَن يُخلِفَ الدَهرُ مِثلَهُم أَبَداً

عَلَيَّ هَيهاتَ شَأنُهُم عَجَبُ

When I was certain their company would not return

Never will Fate replace the likes of them, ever;

As long as I lived, my heart was crushed,

Alas, their story weighs upon me with wonder.

لَمّا تَيَقَّنتُ أَنَّ رَوحَتَهُم

لَيسَ لَها ما حَيِيتُ مُنقَلَبُ

I showed a patience no other has shown,

When I became certain that their journey hence

And misfortunes beset me from all sides.

Held no return for as long as I might live,

أُبلَيتُ صَبراً لَم يُبلِهِ أَحَدٌ

وَاِقتَسَمَتني مَآرِبٌ شُعَبُ

Thus, when I lose a brother,

I wore out a patience that none had worn before,

No bond of blood remains between us.

And distinct desires divided me in pieces.

كَذاكَ إِنّي إِذا رُزِئتُ أَخاً

فَلَيسَ بَيني وَبَينُهُ نَسَبُ

My tribe is Ghutayr, and my homeland the meadows

Thus am I: when afflicted by the loss of a brother,

Of Al-Kharaj - a summer home, where grapes nursed me.

Between whom and myself no bloodline runs.

قُطرَبُّلٌ مَربَعي وَلي بَقُرى الـ

ـكَرخِ مَصِيفٌ وَأُمِّيَ العِنَبُ

Their sap nourished me, their shade embraced me,

Qutrabbul is my spring camp; and in the villages of

And flames leapt high in the brushwood.

Karkh is my summer home, and my mother is the Vine.

تُرضِعُني دَرَّها وَتَلحَفُني

بِظِلِّها وَالهَجيرُ يَلتَهِبُ

When the boughs swayed low, they covered me,

She suckles me with her milk and wraps me round

So none could see what lay in my lap.

Within her shade when the midday sun is blazing.

إِذا ثَنَتهُ الغُصونُ جَلَّلَني

فَينانُ ما في أَديمِهِ جُوَبُ

At night I stayed in a shelter, mourning

When the boughs bend low, she covers me with a cloak,

Like bereft women mourning what was stolen.

Lush and leafy, with no gap within its skin.

تَبيتُ في مَأتَمٍ حَمائِمُهُ

كَما تُرَثّي الفَواقِدُ السُلُبُ

My longing and theirs rose up together,

Its doves pass the night in a funeral wake,

As if some mischief had made us rave.

Lamenting like mothers bereft of their children.

يَهُبُّ شَوقي وَشَوقُهُنَّ مَعاً

كَأَنَّما يَستَخِفُّنا طَرَبُ

So I took to the breast that nursed me, like a child

My longing and theirs stir up together,

Clutching his mother when gripped by colic.

As if a sudden rapture makes us light.

فَقُمتُ أَحبو إِلى الرَضاعِ كَما

تَحامَلَ الطِفلُ مَسَّهُ سَغَبُ

Until I chose a lass from Daskarah,

So I rose, crawling toward that suckling-draught,

Whom the years and epochs had worn down.

As a child struggles to move when touched by hunger.

حَتّى تَخَيَّرتُ بِنتَ دَسكَرَةٍ

قَد عَجَمَتها السِنونُ وَالحِقَبُ

I unveiled her on a moonless night

Until I chose the daughter of a vintage tavern,

When the weaver of fates stirred in the gloom,

Tested and seasoned by the passing epochs.

هَتَكتُ عَنها وَاللَيلُ مُعتَكِرٌ

مُهَلهَلَ النَسجِ ما لَهُ هُدُبُ

Weaving a threadbare shroud, with no cloak,

I tore the veil from her while the night was dark,

No grave-niche in the earth, and no tombstone.

A flimsy weave that possessed no fringed hem,

مِن نَسجِ خَرقاءَ لا تُشَدُّ لَها

آخِيَّةٌ في الثَرى وَلا طُنُبُ

Then I cinched her waist with the belt of chastity,

Spun by a clumsy weaver who fastens down

And she flamed up before me like fire.

No tether in the dust, nor any tent-rope.

ثُمَّ تَوَجَّأتُ خَصرَها بِشَبا الـ

ـإِشفى فَجاءَت كَأَنَّها لَهَبُ

The forbidden draft was poured for the remorseful,

Then I struck her waist with the sharp point of the awl,

And the thorns of parting were our lot.

And she gushed forth as though she were a flame.

فَاِستَوسَقَ الشُربُ لِلنَدامى وَأَجـ

ـراها عَلَينا اللُجَينُ وَالغَرَبُ

I say, as the two vie in their likeness,

The drinking order was set for the boon companions,

"Which of the two is golden?"

While silver and gold vessels circulated her among us.

أَقولُ لَمّا تَحاكَيا شَبَهاً

أَيُّهُما لِلتَشابُهِ الذَهَبُ

They are the same, but between them lies

I asked, when the two resembled one another:

The fact that they are solid, while I flow.

"Which of the two, in this likeness, is the gold?"

هُما سَواءٌ وَفَرقُ بَينِهِما

أَنَّهُما جامِدٌ وَمُنسَكِبُ

Polished idols like her stand engraved,

They are equals, and the only difference between them

With priests and crosses carved on them.

Is that one is frozen solid, and one flows.

مُلسٌ وَأَمثالُها مُحَفَّرَةٌ

صُوِّرَ فيها القُسوسُ وَالصُلُبُ

They recite their Gospel, and above them

Smooth cups, while their counterparts are engraved,

Is a wine-red sky with clusters for stars,

Depicted upon them are priests and crucifixes.

يَتلونَ إِنجيلَهُم وَفَوقَهُمُ

سَماءُ خَمرٍ نُجومُها الحَبَبُ

As though pearls scattered by the hands

They recite their Gospel, while above them hangs

Of maidens roused to play.

A sky of wine, its stars the rising bubbles.

كَأَنَّها لُؤلُؤٌ تُبَدِّدُهُ

أَيدي عَذارى أَفضى بِها اللَعِبُ

As if they were pearls being scattered about

By the hands of virgins carried away in play.