متى لاح برق أو بدا طلل قفر — Albohtry

Whenever lightning flashed or a desolate ruin appeared,

A torrent of tears flowed, neither slow nor scant.

And longing is nothing but burning pang upon burning pang,

And a flood from the eye-corners, followed by further floods.

So do not, you two, recall the days of youthful folly, for

That age passed away without our noticing it.

May God water the days of people—severed is

Their affection, save for imagining and remembrance.

Faithfulness from the days would be the return of their camel-litters,

Just as time's scattering them is treachery.

Is life anything but separation favoring us

With union with Su'ad, or time coming to our aid?

Yet she has nothing for one seeking union—

No union; nor has one enduring her absence any patience.

Whenever the reprover forbade me, passion grew stubborn in me;

She listened to the slanderer, and estrangement grew stubborn in her.

And on the day she swayed to bid farewell and greeted me

With two eyes whose glances were bound to magic,

I thought drowsiness had bent her eyelids—

The drowsiness of sleep—or wine had swayed her form.

By your life, the world lacks no bounty

So long as al-Fath ibn Khaqan and rain remain.

A young man whose dwellings are always ringed

By his white hands of kindness and green courtyards.

He lit the land's horizon for us, and laid bare

Through his presence what dawn cannot lay bare,

With a face that is the radiant full moon, banishing darkness

With its light, and virtues that are the shining stars.

A cloud of generosity whose life-giving rain never pauses,

And a kindler of war, who lets no wrong go unavenged;

And a guardian of kingship, whose armament is always

White Indian swords and brown Khatti spears.

The sons of al-'Abbas hold the force of his valor in reserve

For enemies' recurring unrest or a calamity that strikes.

He spends his nights for them where fidelity and piety abide,

And sets forth for them where competence and victory abide.

He counts it rebellion that a hand should challenge them,

And reckons it a sin that a heart should deceive them.

He is humble through nobility; though he has no

Haughtiness among his peers, he has greatness.

And a man of scruple, who never accepts a course

If neither praise nor reward points the way to it.

May men be your ransom whose stinginess keeps their gifts far off;

So no draught of their bounty comes on the fifth day or the tenth.

Their dispositions grew base, and their hands grew stingy;

So their beneficence is evil, and their kindness wickedness.

Unlike them, your concern is the fullness of honor,

While those men's concern is that their wealth grow plentiful.

And even if they took a share in noble deeds,

The scant portion would be theirs, and the abundance yours.

The endurance of noble endeavors lies in prolonging your life,

And the life of lofty achievements in lengthening your life.

Indeed, the day of the river was a day of great calamity

That loomed, and of blessing—the river flowed with both.

You crossed over it, and a contest began

Among its waves, when the sea swelled above it.

The bridge's moorings gave way, and beneath him crumbled

Its mighty foundations; the bridge was not to blame.

It bore forbearance like Quds, and ambition

Like Radwa, and a worth that no worth could equal.

But for God's protection of you, and His favor

Upon you, and overflowing grace among His gifts,

The world would have darkened, and its beauty collapsed,

And the green leaves would have fallen from its boughs.

And when I saw the crisis, its path constricted,

And harm had grown grave, and the affair dreadful,

You acted decisively, so your resolve was not checked by the bewilderment of the

Terrified man, nor did dread block your paths.

And that terror was nothing but a dark hollow;

The full moon appeared, rising from beneath its darkness.

So if we forget God's blessing in you, then our share

We have squandered; and if we give thanks, thanks are indeed due.

I behold you with the eye of one clad in the leaves of wealth,

Through your blessings, which poetry enumerates.

And my need of you delights me; never would

Poverty delight me, but for my love of you.

And by God, no favors have gone to waste that you bestowed

On me, nor has ingratitude diminished their goodness.

And I have no excuse for failing to acknowledge your favor,

And even if I had an excuse, the excuse would not be fitting.