أَتُنكِرُ الدارَ أَم عِرفانَ مَنزِلَةٍ
لَم يَبقَ غَيرُ مُناخِ القِدرِ وَالحُمَمِ
Do you not recognize the abode—or is this recognition of a dwelling-place?
Nothing remains but the pot’s resting-stones and ashes,
وَغَيرُ نُؤيٍ رَمَتهُ الريحُ أَعصُرَهُ
فَهوَ ضَئيلٌ كَحَوضِ الآجِنِ الهَدِمِ
And a tent trench the wind has battered through the ages,
Now faint as the hollow of a ruined, stagnant pool.
كانَت مَنازِلَ أَقوامٍ فَغَيَّرَها
مَرُّ اللَيالي وَنَضخُ العارِضِ الهَزِمِ
These once were a people’s dwellings, transformed
By passing nights and the downpour of a thunderous cloud.
وَقَد تَكونُ بِها هيفٌ مُنَعَّمَةٌ
لا يَلتَفِعنَ عَلى سوءٍ وَلا سَقَمِ
Slender, pampered women may once have lived there,
Veiling themselves for neither blemish nor illness;
لا يَصطَلينَ دُخانَ النارِ شاتِيَةً
إِلّا بِعودِ يَلَنجوجٍ عَلى فَحَمِ
In winter they warmed themselves by no smoky fire
Except yalankūj wood crackling over coals.
يَمشينَ مَشيَ الهِجانِ الأُدمِ روَّحَها
عِندَ الأَصيلِ هَديرُ المُصعَبِ القَطِمِ
They walked like tawny, high-bred she-camels driven home
At evening by the roar of a fierce, biting stallion-camel.
لَقَد حَلَفتُ بِما أَسرى الحَجيجُ لَهُ
وَالناذِرينَ دِماءَ البُدنِ بِالحَرَمِ
I have sworn by that to which the pilgrims journey by night,
And by those who vow the sacrificial camels’ blood within the Sanctuary:
لَولا الوَليدُ وَأَسبابٌ تَناوَلَني
بِهِنَّ يَومَ اِجتِماعِ الناسِ بِالثَلَمِ
Had it not been for al-Walid, and the ties that reached me
Through them on the day the people gathered at al-Thalam,
إِذاً لَكُنتُ كَمَن أَودى وَوَدَّأَهُ
أَهلُ القَرابَةِ بَينَ اللَحدِ وَالرَجَمِ
I would have been like one who perished and was laid low
By his own kin, between the grave-niche and the piled stones.
أَهلي فِداؤُكَ يَومَ المُجرِمونَ بِها
مُقاسَمُ المالِ أَو مُغضٍ عَلى أَلَمِ
May my people ransom you, on the day when wrongdoers there
Must divide the wealth or swallow their pain in silence—
يَومَ المَقاماتِ وَالأَموالِ مُحضَرَةٌ
حَولَ اِمرِئٍ غَيرِ ضَجّاجٍ وَلا بَرِمِ
The day of assemblies, when fortunes are brought forth
Around a man neither clamorous nor peevish.
بِالثَنيِ تَضرِبُ عَنهُ الناسَ شُرطَتُهُ
كَاللَيثِ تَحتَ ظِلالِ الغابَةِ الضَرِمِ
At the mountain pass his guards beat the people back from him,
Like a lion beneath the shade of a blazing thicket.
إِنَّ اِبنَ مَروانَ أَسقاني عَلى ظَمَإٍ
بِسَجلِ لا عاتِمٍ رَيّاً وَلا خَذِمِ
The son of Marwan gave me drink when I was parched,
From a brimming bucket—neither slow to quench nor cut short.
لا يَحرُمُ السائِلَ الدُنيا إِذا عَرَضَت
وَلا يُعَوَّذُ مِنهُ المالُ بِالقَسَمِ
He never denies a petitioner worldly bounty when it appears,
Nor can wealth take refuge from him behind an oath.
لا يَستَقِلُّ رِجالٌ ما يُحَمَّلَهُ
وَلا قَريبونَ مِن أَخلاقِهِ العُظُمِ
No band of men could bear alone what is laid upon him,
Nor could they approach his mighty virtues:
مِن آلِ مَروانَ فَيّاضُ العَطاءِ إِذا
أَمسى السَحابُ خَفيفَ القَطرِ كَالصَرِمِ
A lavish giver from the house of Marwan, when
The evening cloud is as scant of rain as one wholly spent,
تَسوقُهُ تَحمِلُ الصُرّادَ مُجدِبَةٌ
حَتّى تَساقَطَ بَينَ الضالِ وَالسَلَمِ
Driven by a barren wind bearing piercing cold,
Until its drops fall among lote trees and acacias.
فَهُم هُنالِكَ خَيرُ الناسِ كُلِّهِمِ
عِندَ البَلاءِ وَأَحماهُم عَنِ الكَرَمِ
Those men there are the best of all mankind
In adversity, and the fiercest guardians of honor:
الباسِطونَ بِدُنياهُم أَكُفَّهُمُ
وَالضارِبونَ غَداةَ العارِضِ الشَبِمِ
They spread their hands with all the wealth of this world,
And strike on the morning of the cold storm-cloud;
وَالمُطعِمونَ إِذا ما أَزمَةٌ أَزَمَت
وَالمُقدِمونَ عَلى الغاراتِ بِالجِذَمِ
They feed the people whenever a crisis tightens,
And charge into raids in close-packed bands,
عَوابِسَ الخَيلِ إِذ عَضَّت شَكائِمَها
وَأَصحَرَت عَن أَديمِ الفِتنَةِ الحَلِمِ
On scowling horses, when the bits bite hard,
And bring forth forbearance when strife bares its face.
هُمُ الأُلى كَشَفوا عَنّا ضَبابَتَها
وَقَوَّموها بِأَيديهِم عَنِ الضَجَمِ
They are the ones who cleared its fog away from us
And straightened it with their hands out of crookedness.
فَإِذ أَتَتكُم فَأَعطَتكُم بِدِرَّتِها
فَاِحتَلِبوها هَنيئاً يا بَني الحَكَمِ
So when it comes to you and lets its full udder flow,
Milk it in good health, O sons of al-Hakam.
بَني أُمَيَّةَ قَد أَجدَت فَواضِلُكُم
مِنكُم جِيادي وَمِنكُم قَبلَها نَعَمي
O sons of Umayya, your favors have brought me gain:
From you came my steeds, and before them my herds.
فَهيَ إِذا ذُكِرَت عِندي وَإِن قَدُمَت
يَوماً حَديثٌ كَخَطِّ الكَفِّ بِالقَلَمِ
Whenever that favor is recalled to me, though it has grown old,
It remains ever fresh, like writing traced by a pen upon the palm.
لَئِن حَلَفتُ لَقَد أَصبَحتُ شاكِرَها
لا أَحلِفُ اليَومَ مِن هاتا عَلى إِثِمِ
If I swear, I have indeed risen grateful;
Today I swear no sinful oath concerning this.
لَولا بَلاؤُكُمُ في غَيرِ واحِدَةٍ
إِذاً لَقُمتُ مَقامَ الخائِفِ الزَرِمِ
Had it not been for your exploits on more than one occasion,
I would have stood like a terrified, helpless man.
أَسمَعتُكُم يَومَ أَدعو في مُوَدَّأَةٍ
لَولاكُمُ شَعَّ لَحمي عِندَها وَدَمي
You heard me on the day I cried out from within a burial pit;
Without you, my flesh and blood would have been scattered.
لَولا تَناوُلُكُم إِيّايَ ما عَلِقَت
كَفّي بِأَرجائِها القُصوى وَلا قَدَمي
Had you not reached out and taken hold of me, my hand would never have clung
To its farthest edges, nor would my foot have found purchase.
لَقَد عَلِمتُم وَإِن أَصبَحتُ نائِيَكُم
نُصحي قَديماً وَفِعلي غَيرُ مُتَّهَمِ
You know, though I have now become far removed from you,
My longstanding loyal counsel and my conduct beyond suspicion.
لَقَد خَشيتُ وُشاةَ الناسِ عِندَكُمُ
وَلا صَحيحَ عَلى الأَعداءِ وَالكَلِمِ
I have feared the people’s tale-bearers in your presence—
For no man remains whole amid enemies and wounds.
