دِيارُ نَوارٍ ما دِيارُ نَوارِ
كَسَونَكَ شَجواً هُنَّ مُنهُ عَوارِ
The dwellings of Nawar—ah, what dwellings they are!
They have clothed you in sorrow, though they themselves stand stripped and bare.
يَقولونَ في الشَيبِ الوَقارُ لِأَهلِهِ
وَشَيبي بِحَمدِ اللَهِ غَيرُ وَقارِ
They say that gray hair brings dignity to those who bear it,
But my gray hair—praise be to God—signifies no such solemnity.
إِذا كُنتُ لا أَنفَكُّ عَن طاعَةِ الهَوى
فَإِنَّ الهَوى يَرمي الفَتى بِبَوارِ
For as long as I cease not from obeying the call of passion,
Passion shall surely cast a man into perdition.
فَها إِنَّ قَلبي لا مَحالَةَ مائِلٌ
إِلى رَشَإٍ يَسعى بِكَأسِ عُقارِ
Thus, my heart inevitably inclines
Towards a young gazelle who hastens with a cup of vintage wine.
شَمولٍ إِذا شُجَّت تَقولُ عَقيقَةٌ
تَنافَسَ فيها السَومُ بَينَ تِجارِ
A chilled wine which, when diluted, resembles carnelian stone,
For which merchants have vied in high-stakes bidding.
كَأَنَّ بَقايا ما عَفا مِن حَبابِها
تَفاريقُ شَيبٍ في سَوادِ عِذارِ
As though the remnants of bubbles fading upon its surface
Were scattered strands of gray amidst the blackness of a youth's sideburns.
تَرَدَّت بِهِ ثُمَّ انفَرَت عَن أَديمِهِ
تَفَرِّيَ لَيلٍ عَن بَياضِ نَهارِ
The foam cloaked the wine, then broke away from its surface,
Like the parting of night to reveal the whiteness of day.
تُعاطيكَها كَفٌّ كَأَنَّ بَنانَها
إِذا اعتَرَضَتها العَينُ صَفُّ مَدارِ
A hand offers it to you, with fingertips that seem—
When the eye falls upon them—like a row of polished stones.
حَلَفتُ يَميناً بَرَّةً لا يَشوبُها
فَجارٌ وَما دَهري يَمينُ فَجارِ
I have sworn a righteous oath, unsullied by
Falsehood, for it is not my nature to swear falsely:
لَقَد قَوَّمَ العَبّاسُ لِلناسِ حِجَّهُم
وَساسَ بِرَهبانِيَّةٍ وَوِقارِ
Al-Abbas has indeed set right the Pilgrimage for the people,
And managed it with pious devotion and solemn dignity.
وَعَرَّفَهُم أَعلامَهُم وَأَراهُمُ
مَنارَ الهُدى مَوصولَةً بِمَنارِ
He taught them their landmarks and revealed to them
The beacons of guidance, one light joined to another.
وَأَطعَمَ حَتّى ما بِمَكَّةَ آكِلٌ
وَأَعطى عَطايا لَم تَكُن بِضِمارِ
And he provided food until no soul in Mecca
Remained hungry, giving gifts that were immediate and sure.
وَحُملانُ أَبناءِ السَبيلِ تَراهُمُ
قِطاراً إِذا راحوا أَمامَ قِطارِ
And as for the mounts for the travelers, you see them
Moving in trains, one caravan following another.
أَبَت لَكَ يا عَبّاسُ نَفسٌ سَخِيَّةٌ
بِزِبرِجَ دُنيانا وَعَتقِ نَجارِ
O Abbas, a generous soul has refused for you,
Along with your noble lineage, the mere glitter of this world.
وَأَنَّكَ لِلمَنصورِ مَنصورِ هاشِمٍ
وَما بَعدَهُ مِن غايَةٍ لِفَخارِ
For you belong to Al-Mansur—the Victorious One of Hashim—
Beyond whom there is no summit left for glory to reach.
فَجَدّاكَ هَذا خَيرُ قَحطانَ واحِداً
وَهَذا إِذا ما عُدَّ خَيرُ نِزارِ
Your two forebears: the one, the single best of Qahtan,
And the other, when reckoned, the very best of Nizar.
إِلَيكَ غَدَت بي حاجَةٌ لَم أَبُح بِها
أَخافُ عَلَيها شامِتاً فَأُداري
A need has driven me to you, one I have not voiced,
Fearing the gloating of enemies, so I keep it hidden.
فَأَرخِ عَلَيها سِترَ مَعروفِكَ الَّذي
سَتَرتَ بِهِ قِدماً عَلَيَّ عُواري
So lower upon it the veil of your kindness, that same veil
With which you have long covered my faults and shame.
