رويدك إن شأنك غير شاني — Albohtry

Take your time: your concern is not mine.

And desist: I do not obey anyone who forbids me.

For if you had seen a dune of sand,

its two flanks tugging at a bough of the ban tree,

and one in beauty's first bloom, for whom I spent my night

suffering what I suffer from loving him,

you would excuse whoever indulges in youthful dalliance,

and prefer waywardness among fair women.

How often I set out before dawn, traveling by night with my companions,

to safflower-hued, deep-crimson wine in its flagon.

At dawn I drink the wine's crimson, undiluted,

beside the apple of a crimson cheek.

Whenever my hand swayed with the cup, it was brought back

by a hand with dye-stained fingertips.

Look closely through the curtain, and see

with your own eyes what I drank and who gave me drink.

You will find the midmorning sun bringing a sun

to me, of pure wine fit for Khosrow.

Saturdays of morning drinking are cherished,

and most favored of them is Mihrajan's Saturday.

It came offering winter, amid a longing

for it, and the downpour of approaching, steady rains.

It greets us with its narcissi and brings near

saffron blossoms in place of roses.

Part of honoring it is urging on the drinking companions,

and hastening the third and second lute-strings.

By the blessing of al-Mu'tazz's caliphate, they became

truth for us—the false promises of our hopes.

His bounty pours upon us and makes needless

the deep wells and water-drawing camels.

Radiant as the lightning of longed-for rain,

he is beloved among those far and near.

Faces bowed before the beauty of a face

that reveals his noble qualities.

And the subjects saw, close at hand,

the presence among them of one granted success and aid.

Surely the world's splendor was restored to it,

and time's beauty returned as it once was.

And sovereignty became radiant and illumined

by a radiant man of Fihr's sons, pure of lineage,

and a victorious one, aided against his enemies

through the returning fortunes of renewed war.

Indeed, the courier came spreading words

sweet in wording, clear in meaning.

If news from afar has thrilled you

through its telling, what would you think of seeing it yourself?

The rebels were annihilated and torn apart

by God's swords—some lying slain, others captive.

And the mountains of al-Tib choked on them

on a day like the day of Nahrawan.

And the doomed, deluded man fled, hoping

for safety—what an hour to seek safety!

He fears to turn around, for already lying in wait

for a turn of his eye is the point of a spear.

He renounced his caliphate and fled,

as though the slave were running in a wagered race.

And his subjects of old were

nothing but two mixed herds of goats and sheep.

Commander of the Faithful, may you live long among us,

mighty in sovereignty, protected in your station.

For you are first in every excellence

we recount, and Abd Allah is second.