لعمر المغاني يوم صحراء أربد — Albohtry

By the life of the dwellings on the day in Arbad's desert,

they surely stirred longing in one already yearning.

Dwellings that have become dwellings for the winds,

which come and go there between a tent-trench and fine ashes.

Their ruins grieved my companion, and down streamed

his tears among them, though I had not said, 'Weep with me.'

And too little for al-Malikiyya's dwelling was a tear

of longing that patience could not master and hold back.

May morning rain-clouds water her wherever her dwellings lie,

though she gave no drink to the man parched with thirst.

She saw stray strands of gray and smiled at them,

and said, 'Stars—if only they had risen with lucky omens!'

O Atika, youth did not bring me nearer

to you, that I should blame gray hair for keeping me away.

You shun me more whenever my anguish grows,

seeking my death—and here I am, dead.

When shall I regain the life that slipped by just now,

if my today with you is better than my tomorrow?

By the life of the father of days, their judgment has not wronged

me, nor have I surrendered to them the loop of my rein.

And how should I fear calamities and their turning

against me, when Ahmad ibn Muhammad stands between them and me?

Blamed for giving away long-held wealth, judged foolish;

yet glory belongs only to one blamed and judged foolish.

And a bright, noble man, whose bounty reaches the water-drawer with the shortest

rope, and whose gifts go to the first petitioner.

When they rush to him with requests, he turns for their sake

against his wealth, until he wrongs it and exceeds all bounds.

He is too far ahead for the young men to catch him,

when he follows an ascending path to glory.

And among men are lords whose number is

great, yet one lord stands below another.

He has become peerless in his judgment and ability,

shouldering unrivaled loyal service to the caliphate.

At hand to safeguard for it all that is neglected,

swift to gather for it all that is scattered.

He cannot bear being cheated of even a trifle,

though he is broad of breast and generous of hand.

Abu Hasan, may our souls ransom you, the souls that

through your bounty redeem themselves from the turns of misfortune.

And our hopes in you have reached no goal

that we deem adequate to your ever-renewed stature.

Then how could they, when that judgment has not yet been relied upon

by a counselor, and that sword has not yet been girded on?