إِذا المُزنُ أَغفى وَالكَلالُ يَمسُّهُ

تَشَبَّثَ بِالأَضلاعِ مِن جَمرِهِ وَقدُ

When sadness overwhelms and lethargy touches him,

He clings to the ribs with the embers of his passion,

يَلوحُ كتوشيعِ اليماني وَأَدمُعي

تَفيضُ وَقَد شابَ النَجيعَ بها الوَجدُ

My tears flow copiously and my lament has turned grey,

Between Warqah and Al-Hima there still remains a house,

فَلا زالَ دارٌ بَينَ وَجرَةَ وَالحِمى

يَروحُ إِلى أَطلالِها لِها الصَبُّ أَو يَغدو

He goes to its ruins, morning or evening,

When you look, the white gazelle dances with its glance,

إِذا نَظَرتَ فالرِّيمُ يَرنو بِطَرفِها

وَإِن سَفَرَت فالشَّمسُ مِن وَجهِها تَبدو

And when it travels, the sun rises from its face,

Mimicking the she-camel’s gait and slim at the waist,

تُحاكي النَّقا رِدفاً وَبالخَصرِ دِقَّهٌ

وَأَعلى القَنا لَحظاً وَسائِرُهُ قَدُّ

Higher up slender, the rest firm,

Like a garden dripping dew from its freshness,

وَكالرَّوضِ يَرفَضُّ النَّدى مِن عِذارِهِ

غَدا يَرتَوي مِن فَيضِ عَبرَتِها الخَدُّ

In the morning the cheek imbibes from the stream of its tears,

At parting it stretched out fingers,

وَقَد بَسَطَت عِندَ الوَداعِ أَنامِلاً

لَها في دَمي لَونٌ وَمِن دَمعِها جِلْدُ

That matched my blood in color and my skin from its tears,

I brought my forearms close for a journey,

وَقَرَّبتُ فَتلاءَ الذِّراعِ لِرِحلَةٍ

بِها تُدفَعُ الجُلَّى وَيُستَمطَرُ الرِّفدُ

With it jewels are shed and rain is sought.

And my friends when they mounted their racing steeds,

وَصَحبي إِذا أَغْشَوْا مَطيَّهُمُ الرُّبا

دَعا بِالَّذي تَحثوهُ مِن تُربِها الوَهدُ

Called out what the soil urges from its affection.

They say why do you ride in the fading dusk,

يَقولونَ لي كَم أَمتَطي غارِبَ الدُّجى

وَتَبغي الغِنَى وَالجِدُّ يَعنيكَ لا الكَدُّ

Seeking wealth while toil concerns you not poverty.

I said do not despair for I

فَقُلتُ لَهُم لا تَيأَسوا مِنهُ إِنَّني

أُحاوِلُهُ ما دامَ مِن صارِمي حَدُّ

Will keep trying as long as my sword is sharp,

I have not turned the sad one back though his breath

وَلَم أَستَدِرَّ المُزنَ يَقدُمُ وَدقَهُ

بُرَيقٌ كَما يَفتَرُّ عَن سِقطِهِ الزِّندُ

Pants like sparks bursting forth from collision of flint.

For me many graces for relieving religion,

فَلي مِن غياثِ الدِّينِ نَعماءُ ثَرَّةٌ

يُقَطِّعُ أَنفاسَ الحَيا دونَها الجَهْدُ

That sever the neck veins before it exertion.

And he who possessed the hoped for lightning, his gifts

وَمَن مَلَكَ البَرقَ المُرَجّى نَوالُهُ

نَدىً لَم يُراقِب دونَ نَفحَتِهِ الرَّعدُ

A freshness that thunder does not monitor without its breeze.

When you visit him and weakness burns his fang,

إِذا زُرتَهُ وَالوَهنُ يَحرِقُ نابَهُ

ثَنى صَرفَهُ عَنّي وَأَنيابُهُ دَردُ

He turns it away from me though it gnashes,

Savagery prevails and his day is always

وَيَغشى الوَغى وَاليَومُ قانٍ أَديمُهُ

بَعَضبٍ لَهُ مِن هامَةِ البَطَلِ الغِمدُ

Hostile, possessing the wrath of the sheathed hero’s sword,

A short man brings them near what they intend,

يُقَرِّبُهُم مِمّا يَرومونَ ضُمَّرٌ

عِتاقٌ تَساوى عِندَها القُربُ وَالبُعدُ

Equalizing proximity and distance before it.

From coarse villages he left it for him,

مِنَ القرَياتِ الجُلحِ خَلَّفَها لَهُ

أَبٌ حينَ واراهُ وُقيتَ الرَدى لَحدُ

A father when he entrusted him the time of calamity.

When spring arrives it does not tremble

وليسَ إذا حلَّ الرَّبيعُ نِطاقَهُ

يَرِفُّ بِها الحَوذانُ والنَّفَلُ الجعدُ

With joy or fresh shoots or the tufted greenery,

The muddy partridge fears losing its way in it,

وَيَخشى القَطا الكُدْرِيُّ فيها ضَلالَهُ

وَيَشكو لَظاها في أَداحيِّها الرُّبْدُ

And complains of its harshness in its plains the dew.