نسيم الصّبا كيفَ المنازِل من نجد

كَمَا كُنّ عَهْدي أم تَغيّرنَ مِن بَعْدي

O east wind, how are the dwellings in Najd?

Are they as I knew them, or have they changed since I left?

ويا عَذَبات البَانِ مِن سفْحِ حَاجرٍ

هَلِ السَّفحُ معمور الربوع على عَهْدي

O graceful bān branches on the slope of Hājir,

Is that slope, with all its quarters, still inhabited as in my day?

ويا أَثلاث الجزْع من شعب عامرٍ

لقد زادني ذكراكِ وجداً على وجدِي

O tracts of the valley-bend in the ravine of ʿĀmir,

The memory of you has added longing upon my longing.

منازل روّى تُربَها مثلُ أدمعي

من الغيث مُنْهلّ الحيا صادق الرّعدِ

Dwellings whose soil was watered, like my tears,

By a cloudburst of life-giving rain, faithful in its thunder.

قَضَيتُ بها حَقَّ الصِّبا والزّمان لَمْ

يُقابلْ إراداتي بعكسٍ ولا طَردِ

There I gave youth its due, while Time did not

Oppose my wishes, thwart them, or turn them back.

وقومٍ بنَعمانِ الأراك عهدتُهمْ

سقوني بها كأساً دِهَاقاً مِن الودِّ

And people at Nuʿmān al-Arāk—I knew them well—

There gave me a brimming cup of affection.

وكم هِمتُ فيهمْ والزّمان مُساعدٌ

وصرفُ القضا يُجْري الأُمور على قصْدي

How often I wandered love-mad among them, while Time was my ally

And the course of fate directed all things toward my desire—

بمعسول أَطراف الحديثِ كأنّما

يدير على أَهْلِ الغرام جَنَى الشّهدِ

With honeyed turns of speech, as though

He offered lovers the gathered sweetness of honey.

مِن الغيدِ سحّار الّلحاظِ مُعَطّر

اللَّمى جائر الأَحكام معتدل القدِّ

One of the graceful beauties, bewitching in glance and fragrant,

Dark-lipped, tyrannical in judgment, yet perfectly proportioned.

وقد كان طوعي والحوادثُ نوّمٌ

فها أَنا إن سلّمتُ يبخَلُ بالردُ

He once obeyed me, while all misfortunes slept;

Now, even when I greet him, he begrudges me a reply.

وكَم ليلةٍ قد زارني في ظلامِها

وددتُ بها نّي فَرشتُ له خدّي

How many a night he visited me amid its darkness;

I wished that night I had spread my cheek beneath him.

إلى أن سَعَتْ فينا اللّيالي بفُرقةٍ

وغرَّبنَني عَنهُ وغَيّرنَهُ بَعْدي

Until the nights conspired between us to bring separation,

Banished me far from him, and changed him once I was away.

وما زالَ دهري منذ كان يَريشُ لي

سِهاماً مِن الأَحداث تصمي على عَمْدِ

Ever since my life began, my fortune has kept feathering for me

Arrows of calamity that strike the deeply wounded to the heart.

ليَ اللهُ كم أَلقى الزّمانَ بعزمةٍ

تُقصِّر عنها عزمة الصّارمِ الهندي

By God, how often I have faced Time with a resolve

Before which even the resolve of an Indian sword falls short.

وكم حشدتْ يوماً عليّ جنودَه

فما كَلَّ عَنْ حربٍ لَهُ أبداً حدّي

How often it has mustered all its armies against me,

Yet never has my edge grown dull in war with it.

وكم يَلْتَقِيني منْ بنيهِ محارباً

بأخبثِ مِن صلٍّ وألأم مِن قردِ

How many warriors among its sons have met me,

More vicious than an asp and baser than an ape.

إلى اللهِ مِن أبناء دهري أشتكي

مرامي تُصمي كلَّ مُحْكمةٍ السّردِ

To God I complain of the sons of my age:

Missiles that pierce every tightly woven coat of mail.

وما جَهلوا قدري لديهم ورفعتي

وأنّ زماني فيهمُ زمن الوردِ

They were not ignorant of my worth among them or my stature,

Nor that my time among them was a season of roses.

وما ضرَني أن لا يرون فضائلي

فما خَفِيتْ إلاّ على أَعْينِ رُمْدِ

It has not harmed me that they fail to see my virtues;

They are hidden only from rheumy eyes.

وما لي ذنبٌ غي أنّي في العُلَى

تقدَّمتُ مَن قَبْلي وأتعبتُ مَن بعدي

I have no fault except that, in the heights,

I outstripped those before me and exhausted those who followed.

سَلِي الدهرَ عنّي إن شكَكْتِ وعَنْهمُ

لِمَنْ قصبات السَّبق في حلبة المجدِ

Ask Time about me, if you doubt—and ask about them:

Who holds the reeds of precedence in the arena of glory?

وقلةٍ لا عزّ إلاّ مع الغِنَى

فَبِالمال يَسْتكْسِي الفتى حُلَلَ الْحَمْدِ

She said, “There is no honor except with wealth;

By wealth a young man clothes himself in robes of praise.

فأعمِل إلى نيل الغِنى كلَّ حيلةٍ

وشق أديمَ الأرضِ في طلب الرّفدِ

So employ every stratagem to attain riches,

And split the earth’s hide in your search for bounty.”

فقلتُ لها مهلاً فليس بنافعي

دها ثُعَلٍ والمالُ في غُرَر الأُسْدِ

I said to her, “Gently—this would profit me nothing:

What use is foxlike cunning when wealth lies in the lions’ grasp?”