مِن كُلِّ خَوَّاضِ الغِمارِ بِلأْمَةٍ
نُسِجَتْ عليهِ مِن حَبابِ الماءِ
Every bold plunger into the depths is clad in a coat of mail,
woven over him out of the water’s bubbles.
وكأنَّهُ وَيَداهُ في مِجْذافهِ
رَامَ الطّعانَ بِصَعْدةٍ سَمْراءِ
As though he, with both hands at his oar,
were intent on thrusting with a dark iron spear.
وتَخالُ جِلْستَهُ على كُرْسيّهِ
لِلجَذْفِ فَوقَ طِمِرَّةٍ جَرْداءِ
You would take his posture upon his seat
for that of a light, nimble rider on a fleet, sleek-coated mare.
Sol 5.6