أقول لعنس كالعلاة أمون — Albohtry

I say to a sturdy she-camel, anvil-like and dependable,

Thick-muscled, within a saddle strap and woven girth:

Beware the sword if you pass Satih's summit

And Tarun's valley enfolds you and goodness together.

Do not venture deep into Arsanas, lest you stumble

Upon one buried there beneath weathered stones.

For it is no wonder, if you see him, that you should see

The blaze of unmistakable blows upon your limbs.

My yearning for that well-pit, and my anguish

Over him—yet scant are my anguish and yearning!

O my reproacher, these tears are not from excessive passion,

Nor from a beloved's distance, so leave me be.

And do not ask what I wept over, for

My eyelids' water poured out for my face's water—my honor.

My hope was emptied of Yusuf ibn Muhammad,

And my thoughts and expectations grew desolate after him.

Alas, my shame! You perish while I live, though I had never

Before this been mistrusted in offering an excuse.

He was my hand, now paralyzed, and my soul, now snatched away,

And my world, which departed the day he did, and my faith.

Alas, my sorrow that I was not there with him,

So that my left hand and my right might have rotted beside him;

And that I did not meet red death in his defense,

As he used to face dust-gray Time in mine.

And my survival after him is surely treachery,

And before his passing I was never treacherous.

There is no vengeance until the horses climb the ascent

Of Khuwayt, bearing dark lions in armor;

And until the keen blades at Satih attain

Healing for souls from necks and skull-seams;

And until fire is fed with all that lies between Arzan

And the land of Juwakh—villages and fortresses;

And until the sword reaches Musa and shears

The tuft of a fat barbarian at the frontiers.

By God, do you hope to survive, when there has flowed

Blood of ours among you, consigned to destruction?

Where, then, is the Commander of the Faithful? For he

Is my guarantor for what will grieve you, and my surety.

The sleek thoroughbreds will come to you, traversing

The flanks of plains and rugged lands in the wilderness,

Grim-faced, plunging into terror on every battlefield,

Shifting their strides there, bearing lions of the lair,

Seeking vengeance for a young man who was neither feeble

Nor helpless or abject amid calamities;

A veteran of war, ever entrusted

With the axle of a mill that grinds men in armor;

And an army's commander, who brings prudence and reason

To firmness and gentleness on his two sides.

He saw death with his own eyes, no veil before it,

And doubtful death is not like certain death.

And he was told, "Escape its turmoil!" Yet he was denied

By a nature stubborn in battle and unyielding.

And when they hastened lightly to escape, there stood firm

The flanks of a steadfast man, unshaken before swords.

He shielded his shoulders, while the spears were leveled,

With the hollow of his fair throat and his brow.

Shall I forget you, or forget your tragic loss, after

I clung to a strong rope of your generosity?

And if you knew the intensity of my yearning—

Yet what knowledge has one lying buried in the dust?—

You would know for certain that my eye is truly overflowing

For you, and that my heart is truly sorrowful.

If I do not thank you for your bounty with weeping,

Then I am not faithful to any man's kindness.