ذكر الصبا منه لي هاجت صبابات — Alshaghouri

The memory of youth has stirred longings in me;

their arrows have left wounds deep within my breast.

When the doves of the sanctuary sing at dusk,

the doves circle, intent on breaching my secret's sanctuary.

The tents of my youth's night were struck before dawn;

then tents spread their ropes for the morning of gray hair.

So the fair women turned away from me, never looking back;

and I became a Qays from whom the Ruqayyas had withdrawn.

Gray hair has left my tears spent;

and words are exhausted in condemning it.

How can one reach life's serenity, when

my head holds serpents of white hair?

My life's pleasures and my youth have fled; and are

pleasures still pleasures, I wonder, when the hair is gray?

It is time for the closing salutation of one who has prayed, and already

the greetings after the final prostration have been recited.

Gray hair's crime, in my view—no dispute has arisen

that all other crimes fall short of it.

How, then, can I laugh or praise an age

in which the premolars and incisors have perished?

O my reproacher, the Babylonian eyes

that breathe sorcery upon us are nothing but afflictions.

They have come to loathe me after affection; so the cores

of hearts have had their loves stripped away.

And they have taken to calling me 'uncle' in mockery;

alas for the 'uncle' whom young girls call by that name!

I shall surely complain of my gray hair, writing with my own hand,

to a minister through whom complaints are erased.

That most august minister, al-Sahib ibn Ali,

whose name brings glory to ministries;

he whose appointments endure only for those loyal to him,

when the offices come with his approval.

If a verse were revealed after the Prophet, then

verses would surely be revealed concerning Safi al-Din.

A pen is in his palm—ah, what a pen!

Through it wishes appear, and deaths as well.

Abd Allah remains, among men, more honored in the sight of

God than all those among them who hold lordly rank.

As for the flourishing congregational mosque, when the

minister called, clear signs answered him.

So he filled its courtyard with beneficence and generosity;

so prayers for him gain renown and rise in many voices.

Its marble-cladding contrasts with shortening a vocative, for

that involves loss, while this brings additions.

In the reign of al-Adil, the awe-inspiring king, we saw

the wolf in the wilderness, and the sheep paid it no heed.

A king whose keen sword and spear, in the enemies'

mouths at the frontier, deliver blows and thrusts.

He shoots his arrows on the day of battle; no

Sabiri coats of mail can ward them off.

Thus the kingdom has neither crookedness nor flaw

on any day; may his reigns endure as long as he wishes.

Tell the Franks who, in the heart of their own home,

were invaded, as raids swept through their dwelling:

Return to Homs! The sword that took

your lives calls for you to come.

Ibn Ali has now ascended to ranks

whose grandeur the heavens themselves envy.

Accustomed to deeds of goodness, he has sent it

ahead of himself; for doing good is his custom.

His allies have offices through which they have donned the

regalia from him; and his enemies have woes.

O defender of the doctrine, whose defender is blessed,

rejoice! Glad tidings of victory have come to you.

Yours is the praise for which, amid

the assemblies, musk pods from Darin are slit open.

You have revealed your face, a lamp that shines for us,

and your mantle is a niche for the lamp.

O poets, safeguard it, for no one

in al-Sham has verses built for him in praise,

except the minister, before whom bow ambitions

whose utmost goals in glory have no goals above them.

He is the one who rubbed Time's ear with coarse

salt, with his right hand, until that presumptuous one repented.

May he remain forever amid blessings protected

from what is feared, and may no afflictions befall him.