يا طُرَّةَ الشّيحِ بسفْحِ عاقِلِ
كيفَ تُناجيكِ صَبا الأصائِلِ
O dove of the valley near the wise elder,
How does the morning breeze whisper to you?
لا خَطَرَ النَّعامُ فيكِ مَوْهِناً
يَريغُ تَوشيمَ الخِضابِ النّاصِلِ
The ostriches do not tread on you wearily,
Trampling their yellow hennaed legs.
وصافَحَتْكِ الرّيحُ حَسْرى والثّرى
مُرْتَضِعٌ دَرَّ الغَمامِ الهاطِلِ
The wind greeted you in sorrow, and the soil
Suckled the dripping clouds' downpour.
فرُبَّ أعْرابيّةٍ نَشْوى الخُطا
تُقْلِقُ أثناءَ الوِشاحِ الجائِلِ
Many a Bedouin girl, alluring and slender,
Disturbs the folds of her billowing cloak,
تَرمي حَواليكِ بأحْداقِ المَها
إذا ارْتَقَبْنَ غِرَّةَ الحَبائِلِ
Casting glances around you with the eyes of does
When they anticipate the knots of tribulation.
وَيْحَ الهَوى كيفَ أصابَ لحْظُها
وقد أطاشَ أسْهُمي مَقاتِلي
Alas! How has passion afflicted her glance
When my arrows went wild against my fighters?
أما كَفاها القَدُّ وهْوَ رامِحٌ
ألا تُراميني بطَرْفٍ نابِلِ
Did her stature not suffice, erect with spears,
That she should assail me with a casting glance?
أصْغَتْ إِلى الواشينَ بعْدَ صَبْوَةٍ
أرُدُّ فيها لَغَطَ العَواذِلِ
She listened to the slanderers after soberness
While I refute the prattle of the calumniators.
فلَيْتَها أوْصَتْ بِنا خَيالَها
غَداةَ أبْدتْ صَفحةَ المُزايلِ
If only she had shared with us her imagination
The morning after she revealed the page of separation.
تَضحكُ منْ ذي ولَهٍ يَبكي الصِّبا
شَوْقاً إِلى أيّامِهِ القَلائِلِ
She laughs at the lovesick one crying over Sibāʾ
Yearning for his few days long gone.
أيا أخا حَنظَلَةَ بنِ مالِكٍ
ناضِلْ عنِ الفِهْرِيِّ أُخْتَ وائِلِ
O brother Ḥanẓala son of Mālik,
Struggle for me against the sister of Wāʾil.
فالنَّثْرَةُ الحَصْداءُ لمْ تَسُنَّها
إلا على عَبْلِ الذِّراعِ باسِلِ
The blonde gazelle was not adorned
Except on the forearm of the resolute hunter.
والثّأْرُ لا تَغْفُلُ عنهُ خِنْدِفٌ
فكيْفَ أغْضَيْتَ على الطّوائِلِ
Vengeance is not forgotten by one who bears a grudge,
So how could you overlook the long travails?
إنْ لمْ أرَوِّعْ قَوْمَها بفِتْيَةٍ
يَمْشونَ مَشيَ الأُسْدِ بالمَناصِلِ
If I do not startle her people with some youths
Who walk with the gait of lions brandishing swords,
تَشُلُّهُمْ بأذْرُعٍ مَفْتولَةٍ
على الرِّقابِ في عُرا السّلاسِلِ
Paralyzing them with brawny arms
Collaring necks with chains,
فما انْتَضَتْ أفْرى حُسامٍ للطُّلى
منْ خَيرِ جَفْنٍ ضمَّهُ قَوابِلي
Then no sword blades were ever unsheathed
For battle by the excellent scabbards of my heroes.
وقد أرابَ والرّقيبُ هاجِعٌ
طُروقُها تَرفُلُ في الغَلائِلِ
Though the guard was asleep, her procession marched on
With their long trains trailing in the darkness.
مرّتْ بجَرْعاءِ الحِمى فعَطّرَتْ
أشباحَ أطْلالٍ بها نَواحِلِ
They passed by scorched encampments, scenting
The ruins with perfumes of musk-pod trees.
تَبغي كأنْضاءِ السّيوفِ فِتْيَةً
مُوَسَّدينَ أذْرُعَ الرّواحِلِ
They seek youths like the gleam of swords, resting
Their arms on well-stuffed saddles.
فأرَّقَتْ أسْوانَ خاطَ جَفْنَهُ
كَرىً هوَ الصّهْباءُ في المَفاصِلِ
So she deprived the eyelids of sleep, which forms
Crescents that gleam white at the joints.
عَدِّ عنِ الطّيفِ فما أتى بهِ
حُلْمٌ جَنَتْهُ سَوْرَةُ البَلابِلِ
Stop imagining this specter which
Wisdom cloaked in the robe of confusion.
والشِّعْرُ في غَيرِ الإمامِ صادِرٌ
عنْ فِكَرٍ تعلّلَتْ بالباطِلِ
Poetry without a noble theme emerges
From a mind debilitated by falsehood―
منْ مَعْشَرٍ شُمِّ الأنوفِ ذادَةٍ
بَيضِ الوجوهِ سادَةٍ أماثِلِ
From a crowd with arrogant leaders
Of white faces, equal in rank.
دلّتْ على أعراقِهِمْ أفعالُهُمْ
والمَكْرُماتُ جمّةُ المَخائلِ
Their deeds point to their lineage
And generous gifts reveal noble dispositions.
فطرّفوا عنِ العُلا بأذْرُعٍ
شابَتْ أسابيَّ دَمٍ بِنائِلِ
So turn away from eminence with arms
Whose fingertips are dyed red with blood.
شنّوا على الأعْداءِ غاراتِهمْ
تَتْرى كوَلْغِ الأذْؤُبِ العَواسِلِ
Raid your enemies with continuous assaults
That seem like the raids of ferocious jackals.
وكم أناخُوا الحَربَ وهْيَ تَلْتَظي
على مُسِرِّ الضِّغْنِ بالكَلاكِلِ
How often they halted war while it boiled
With the clashing of weapons at the thick of battle!
وقد وفَوْا إذا ضمنوا يومَ الوَغى
رِيَّ القَنا للأَسْل النَّواهلِ
They fulfilled their vows on the day of turmoil
To make the channels run with the blood of heroes.
فهاشمٌ خيرُ بَني فِهْرٍ وهُمْ
خَيْرُ الوَرى وأشْرَفُ القَبائِلِ
For Hāshim is the best of the clan of Fihr
And they are the best of mankind and noblest of tribes.
لِلّهِ بَيْتٌ شَدَّ مِنْ أطْنابِهِ
رَكْزُ القَنا في ثُغَرِ القَنابِلِ
Allah has a House whose pillars
Anchor the poles of warfare at the throats of passes.
عَبدُ مَنافٍ ضُرِبَتْ أوْتادُهُ
على طُلى الأعْداءِ والكَواهِلِ
The peg of Manāf was driven in
Upon the shoulders and clavicles of enemies.
هلْ يَخفِضُ السّادِرُ منْ هَديرِهِ
فالمَجْدُ لا يَعْبَقُ بالأراذِلِ
Can the flow of superiority decrease its roar?
Glory does not reek with rottenness.
كمْ يُلْقِحُ الآمالَ وهْيَ تَرْعَوي
إليهِ في أعقابِ جَدٍّ حائِلِ
How he sets hopes grazing toward him
In the footsteps of an obstructing ancestor!
يُمْسي إذا الليلُ ارْجَحَنَّ ظِلُّهُ
في شُغُلٍ عنِ الرُّقادِ شاغِلِ
He remains sleepless as night drapes its shadow,
Preoccupied with wakefulness instead of rest.
وإنْ أضاءَ الصُّبْحُ زَرَّ صَدْرُهُ
على الجَوى مُرْتَعِدَ الخَصائِلِ
If dawn illuminates, it flutters his breast
With shuddering determination and zeal.
سيَخْطِرُ الآبي على شَكيمِهِ
منْ زُبَرِ الحَديدِ في الخَلاخِلِ
The valiant man will be struck on his intellect
By sparks from the steel links in his armor.
ودونَ ما يُعْلي إليهِ طَرْفَهُ
عَيْطاءُ تُدمي قَدَمَ المُساجِلِ
Beneath what draws his gaze upward
Is a battlefield that dyes the feet of wrestlers.
يا خَيْرَ مَنْ تَفترُّ كلَّ شارِقٍ
عَنْ ذِكْرِهِ ضَمائِرُ المَحافِلِ
O best of all those whose mention
Thrills the consciences of every assembly!
جاءَكَ شَهْرُ اللهِ طَلْقَ المُجْتَلى
مُبارَكَ الأيّامِ واللّيائِلِ
The month of Allah has come to you benign,
Blessed in its days and nights.
يُهْدي لكَ الأجْرَ وتَقْريهِ الندىً
مِنْ نِعَمٍ مُتْرَعَةِ المَناهِلِ
It brings you reward while the dew nourishes you
With abundant blessings from fountains.
فلْيَرْعَ حَوْذانَ الغُمَيْرِ هَجْمَةٌ
لِعامِرٍ طائِرَةُ النّسائِلِ
So let a flood pounce on the watering places of wild cows―
Good fortune takes wing through the lineages.
فَلي بأكْنافِ العِراقِ مَسْرَحٌ
رَحْبُ المندىً أرِجُ الخَمائِلِ
I have in the regions of Iraq an arena
Vast, beloved, and most fertile.
ومِنْحَةٌ ضافيَةٌ أرْمي بِها
طَرْفِيَ في إثْرِ الغَمامِ الوابِلِ
I have a gift of hospitality with which I cast
My gaze in the wake of pouring clouds.
وأستَدِرُّ صَوْبَها بمِدْحَةٍ
تَغْرَى لَها الأسْنانُ بالأنامِلِ
I turn toward it with praise
That makes teeth shine through fingers.
غَرّاءُ لو ذابَتْ لَصاغَتِ الدُّمى
منها حُلى أجْبادِها العَواطِلِ
Radiant one―if she melted she would mold
Idols from her flowing tresses.
ولَوْ رَضِيتُ حَبَّرَتْ رُواتُها
بِها كَلامَ العَرَبِ الأوائِلِ
If I were satisfied, her transmission would adorn
The speech of early Arabs with it.
