وَسارٍ تَعَنّاهُ المَبيتُ فَلَم يَدَع

لَهُ طامِسُ الظَلماءِ وَاللَيلِ مَذهَبا

Weary of night's gloom, a traveller found no rest.

Darkness denied him refuge or place to lie.

رَأَى ضَوءَ نارٍ مِن بَعيدٍ فَخالَها

لَقَد أَكذَبَتهُ النَفسُ بَل راءَ كَوكَبا

He spied a distant fire and thought it a star,

His spirit lied that it was nought but a star.

فلَمّا اِستَبانَ أَنَّها آنِسِيَّةٌ

وَصَدَّقَ ظَنّاً بَعدَ ما كان كَذَّبا

When he found it was a kindly fire instead,

He trusted what he'd once thought must be false.

رَفَعتُ لَهُ بِالكَفِّ ناراً تَشُبُّها

شآمِيَّةٌ نَكباءُ أَو عاصِفٌ صَبا

I raised a blaze to hail him with my palm

A Syrian fire, or storm from North or South.

وَقُلتُ اِرفَعاها بِالصَعيدِ كَفى بِها

مُنادٍ لِسارٍ لَيلَةً إِن تَأَوَّبا

"Lift it on high," I said, "that it may call

To a lonely traveller on a lonely night.”

فَلَمَّا أَتاني وَالسَماءُ تَبُلُّهُ

فَلَقَّيتُهُ أَهلاً وَسَهلاً وَمَرحَبا

As rain soaked him, he came to me for shelter.

I welcomed him, with ease and wished him well.

وَقُمتُ إِلى البَركِ الهَواجِدِ فَاِتَّقَت

بِكَوماءَ لَم يَذهَب بِها النَّيُّ مَذهَبا

I turned towards the pool, still topped with drifts

The rain had not yet drained to their depths away.

فَرَحَّبتُ أَعَلى الجَنبِ مِنها بِطَعنَةٍ

دَعَت مُستَكِنَّ الجَوفِ حَتّى تَصَبَّبا

I gashed its neck that the entrails might gush out

And furnish forth a feast for both of us.

تَسامى بَناتُ الغَليِ في حُجُراتِها

تَسامي عِتاقِ الخَيلِ وَرداً وَأَشهَبا

The bubbles rose like pearls in their own spheres

Like cornelian and grey in their own globes.