وَنَفحَةٍ مِن رُبا ذي الأَثلِ قابَلَني
بِها نَسيمٌ يُزيرُ القَلبَ أَحزانا
A breeze from the fragrant abode greeted me,
Bringing a gentle wind that soothes the heart of its sorrows.
وَلَم يَطِب تُربُها مِن رَوضَةٍ أُنُفٍ
فَهاجَ رَيّاهُ أَطراباً وَأَشجانا
Yet its soil was not sweetened by any delicate garden,
So its downpour raged, arousing tumult and passions.
لكنَّ ذا الأَثْلِ طابَ الواديانِ بِهِ
حَيثُ الرَّبابُ تَجُرُّ الذَّيلَ أَحيانا
But this fragrance made the valleys delightful,
Where the rabab trails its skirt at times.
وَلَم يَكُن لِيَ أَطرافُ الحِمى وَطَناً
وَلا الفوارِسُ مِن نَبهانَ جيرانا
The frontiers of the sanctuary were not my homeland,
Nor were the horsemen of Najd my neighbors.
فَلَم يَزَل بي هَوى طائيَّةٍ عَلِقاً
حَتَّى اِستَفَدتُ بِهِ أَهلاً وَأَوطانا
So passionate love for Tâ’iya clung to me
Until through it I gained family and home.
نَجلاءُ إِن نَظَرَتْ قالَتْ بَنو ثُعَلٍ
عَيناكِ يابْنَةَ ذي البُردَينِ أَرمانا
Beautiful Najlâ’, if she looked, would say,
“O son of Dhi’l-Burdain, your eyes are quiet pools.”
تَمشي رُوَيداً فَلَو نامَ الثَّرى وَمَشَتْ
عَلَيهِ لَم يَعُدِ الوَسنانُ يَقظانا
She walks slowly. If the ground slept and she tread on it,
The peach trees would not awaken.
في خُرّدٍ عُرُبٍ أَكفالُها رُجُحٌ
هِيفٍ حَمَلنَ عَلى الكُثبانِ أَغصانا
On rutting camels, their young ones unsteady,
Lofty, they carried branches over the sand dunes.
وَمِن مَخافَةِ بَينٍ كُنتُ أَحذَرُهُ
لَم أَذكُرِ القَدَّ كَي لا أَذكُرَ البانا
Fearing the evil of some clans, I was wary of them,
Not mentioning the past, so I would not yearn for the bygone days.
فَهَل تَرى يا هُذَيمُ العِيسَ غاديَةً
أَم لا فَقَد آنَسَت عَينايَ أَظعانا
Do you see, O Hudhaifa, the ‘Is caravan passing
Or is it not? My eyes have glimpsed ghostly forms.
فيهِنَّ قَلبي وَعِندَ المُنحَنى بَدَني
فارحَمقُلوباً إِذا فارَقنَ أَبدانا
In them is my heart, and at the curved road is my body.
Have mercy on hearts when they part from bodies!
فَرَقَّ لي وَبَكى حَتّى بَكَت إِبِلِي
رِفقاً هُذَيمُ فَقَد أَدميتَ أَجفانا
He bade me farewell and wept until my camels wept,
Gently, Hudhaifa! You have made my eyelids run.
لا أَنتَ تُعجِبُنا يا نَجدُ بَعدَهُمُ
وَلا لَنا بالحِمى عَيشٌ كَما كانا
Neither you nor highland living delight us now after them.
The sanctuary no longer has the life it used to have.
