دعِ العيسَ تَرْفُلُ في الفَدْفَدِ

عِجالاً إلى بُرْقَتَي تَهْمَدِ

Let the camels stride proudly through the open waste,

Hurrying to the two bright tracts of Tahmad—

أيانِقُ تقطعُ عَرْضَ الفلا

صَوادٍ إلى الأمدِ الأبعدِ

Noble she-camels crossing the desert’s breadth,

Thirsting toward the farthest goal.

سِواهمِ تهدي إلى حاجرٍ

اِذا ضلَّتِ الاِبْلُ عن مَقْصَدِ

Their sure course guides them toward Hājir

Whenever the camels stray from their destination.

فكم بازلٍ حينَ لاحَ السرابُ

وحنَّ إلى بحرِه المُزْبِدِ

How many a full-grown camel, when the mirage appeared,

Yearned for its foaming sea

وأعمَلَ يأتمُّهُ كالظليمِ

حثيثاً فعادَ بِلا مَوْرِدِ

And raced after it, taking it for a guide, like an ostrich—

Only to return swiftly, without reaching water.

اِذا لمعَ البرقُ مِن أرضِها

وأومضَ كالقَبَسِ المُوقَدِ

Whenever lightning flashed from her land

And gleamed like a kindled brand,

طربتُ كأنّي نزيفٌ سَقَوْهُ

سُلافَةَ غُمدانَ أو صَرْخَدِ

I thrilled as though, already drained by wine, I were given

The pure vintage of Ghumdān or Ṣarkhad.

فللّهِ قلبيَ قبلَ الهوى

لقد كانَ كالصخرةِ الجَلْمَدِ

By God, my heart before love—

It was as hard as a massive rock.

ولكنَّه الوجدُ ما للقلوبِ

بهِ مِن قَبيلٍ ولا مِن يَدِ

But passion! Against it, hearts possess

Neither champion nor power.

سلامٌ على بانةِ المازِمَيْنِ

سَلامُ شَجٍ بالجوَى مُفْرَدِ

Peace upon the ben-tree of al-Māzimayn—

The greeting of one grief-stricken, alone in anguish.

فهاتيكَ أوَّلُ أرضٍ بها

عَرَفْتُ هوى العُرُبِ النُّهَّدِ

For that was the first land where

I learned the love of full-breasted Arab beauties:

منازلُ غيدٍ حِسانِ الوجوهِ

عَقائلَ شِبْه الدُّمى خُرَّدِ

The dwellings of graceful women, fair of face,

Noble maidens, secluded and doll-like.

فلا زالَ يسقي ثراها العِهادُ

دِراكاً على ذلكَ المعهدِ

May the returning rains never cease to water its soil,

Downpour after downpour upon that remembered place.

واِنْ أنفدَ القطرُ تَسكابَهُ

فدِيمةُ جفنيَّ لم تَنْفَدِ

And though the clouds exhaust their showers,

The raincloud of my eyelids will never be exhausted.

سأسفحُها أربَعاً لا تغيضُ

على سُفْعِ أحجارِها الركَّدِ

I shall pour my tears fourfold, never ebbing,

Upon its dark, motionless stones.

كأنَّ دموعيَ في تُربِها

تَحَدَّرُ مِن ناظرٍ أَرْمَدِ

It is as though my tears, upon its soil,

Streamed from an inflamed eye.

أما وهوًى بِتُّ مِن حَرَّه

أُراعي غراماً سنا الفَرْقَدِ

By a love whose heat I spent the night enduring,

Keeping watch in longing by al-Farqad’s gleam;

وزفرةِ صدرٍ غداةَ النوى

وقد قوَّضَ الحيُّ لم تَبْرُدِ

And a sigh from my breast on separation’s morning,

When the encampment was struck, has still not cooled.

لقد حلَّ بي مِن نواهنَّ ما

يَهُدُّ الشوامخَ مِن ضَرْغَدِ

Their distance has brought upon me anguish

That could topple the lofty peaks of Ḍarghad.

ومذْ بانَ عن حاجرٍ حُورُه

خَفِيتُ سقاماً عنِ العوَّدِ

Since Hājir’s dark-eyed beauties departed,

I have hidden my wasting illness from those who visit the sick.

فيا عينُ كم تألفينَ السُّهادَ

أحتماً على الوجدِ أن تسهدي

O eye, how long will you remain accustomed to sleeplessness?

Is it decreed by passion that you must keep vigil?

ويا طَيْفَهُنًّ إذا ما هَجَعْتُ

بحقَّكَ زُرني بِلا موعدِ

O phantom of those women, whenever I fall asleep,

By your honor, visit me without an appointed hour.

فليتَ الحبائبَ لما ظَعَنَّ

ودّعتني بالبنانِ النَّدي

Would that, when the beloved women journeyed away,

They had bid me farewell with dewy fingertips.

خليليَّ لولا الهوى والنوى

لما قلتُهل ليَ مِن مُنْجِدِ

My two companions, but for love and separation,

I would never have asked, “Is there anyone to aid me?”

ولا كنتُ لولاهما ضَلَّةًً

أديمُ سَنا البارقِ المنجدِ

Nor, but for those two, would I be a lost wanderer,

Forever watching the highland lightning’s gleam.

ولولا ولوعي بِسكّانها

وهبتُ التغزُّلَ للمجتدي

Were it not for my passion for those who dwell there,

I would give love-song away to any petitioner.

فما أنا مِمَّنْ يرى صوغَهُ

عطاءً مِنَ الزمنِ الأنكَدِ

Yet I am not one who regards its wild strangeness

As a gift from bitter time,

ولا أشتهيِهِ إذا حكتُهُ

يمرُّ على شفةِ المنشدِ

Nor do I desire it if, when I fashion it,

It merely passes over the singer’s lip.

واِنْ كانَ يَعْبَقُ مِن حسنِه

دلالاً بجيدِ الطَّلا الأجْيَدِ

Though from its beauty it may breathe fragrance,

Like dalliance along the neck of the fairest fawn.

اِذا ما القريضُ مشى في

الحضيضِ تطلَّعَ مِن شاهقٍ أقوَدِ

Whenever verse walks through the lowlands,

It looks forth from a lofty, long-necked height.