عجبت وكم عجب في الزمان — Almaarri

I marvel—and how much in Time there is to marvel at—

at the erring judgment of the men of your age.

So, contempt for whatever wealth they bequeathed

and whatever bounty they bestowed!

Never bear them any debt of gratitude,

even if you spend the night in a pauper’s guise.

The young man devours the land at a pounding gallop,

yet there is no escaping a ruinous event.

He seeks sustenance, though the provision of the Sov—

—ereign is sought by the seeking supplicant.

Have you not seen me—and all human—

—kind—beneath the sway of falsehood bound to pass away?

Egypt’s Caesar has gone to his Lord,

leaving statecraft to the caretaker.

They said, “He will return.” We said, “That may be—

by the power of the Creator of the tamarisks—

if Zayd rises again among Tayy

and Kulayb rises again among Wa’il.”

A warrior charges on a swimming steed,

that it may swim the surging flood.

He will shorten that long spear

and lift the trailing part of his mail.

Our ears incline to lies,

and we yearn for the speaker’s gilded words.

How can I keep straight while this day

goes off with its balance askew?

Even Mount Thabir has a lightness

made plain on the weigher’s scale-pan.

Time’s calamities charge upon us;

why, then, is the assailant not assailed?

Sand has defied the counter,

just as the sea defies one who would measure it.

Earth is heaped over whoever lies dead,

and what dreadful tidings lie therein!

How many a slow-stepping elder Time has shackled,

though once he roamed like a racer.

All that surrounds our life is hypocrisy,

and we shall join those gone and vanished.

Were the reproachers not around you,

I would weep over the altered dwelling.

It spares you from casting an omen—you re—

—turn with good fortune—your thrust at the erring augur.

We rejoice when al-Nathrah—the Lion’s nose—bleeds rain,

and rejoice when the Lion urinates rain.