Sol 5.6

  1. A dark wilderness, beneath the full moon, I crossed,

    to meet one slow of step, of Saʿd’s ancestral line.

  2. I rend the cloak of darkness, just as

    grief’s brother rends every robe his hands can reach.

  3. Every rider had drunk deep from slumber’s cup,

    then sagged, spent, while the steeds raced on with us.

  4. Longing loosed passion’s tether—a longing as though it were

    a spark flying from the firestick’s tip.

  5. Tears I scattered weighed my eyelids down,

    over my camel-litter like pearls strewn from a necklace.

  6. Love left of me nothing but life’s last flicker,

    and the passion I endure wrestles me for even that.

  7. And a thirsty beauty does not requite her lover’s devotion—

    by God—neither what he hides of it nor what he reveals.

  8. Through treachery she frays the stout-twisted cords of vows

    to one pure in love, a keeper of affection and covenant.

  9. She gladly lends the slanderer a receptive ear,

    snatching from him whatever he weaves or spins out.

  10. She denies even our night at al-Jazʿ, within the sanctuary,

    our nights on the slope beside Najd’s two landmarks.

  11. I visited her while cutting swords cried out

    against us, and the supple shafts of Rudaynī spears.

  12. I tasted her saliva—God forgive me—

    like white wine blended with red, rose-colored.

  13. I won an encounter that nearly eclipsed my exploits

    on the towering peak beside its lone white-legged ibex.

  14. When we parted, what she had promised proved

    a mirage—and who can draw water from solid stone?

  15. Is it any wonder that a graceful maiden breaks her pledge,

    though my father and hers come of people true to their word?

  16. My heart bears a tattoo left by her love, and never could

    my own betrayal erase it, for shame before honor.

  17. I yearn for her while the ʿUlaymī woman, reproaching me, cries:

    “Hudhaym, wake from words that have cut into my skin!”

  18. But for al-Saʿīdī’s daughter, my dwelling would not be

    where fresh ʿarār twines around fragrant rand.

  19. Nor would a Ghaḍawī breeze have stirred my longing

    the morning the high ridges caught it from Najd.

  20. For her sake I humble myself before her people,

    give them my pure affection, and lay my cheek beneath their feet.

  21. Yet mine is a hard, unbending nature that feeds ravenously on pride,

    and drives my sword away from sharing the sheath’s bed.

Sol 5.6