وَهوَ الَّذي لَم يَزَل تَهمي أَنامِلُه
بِالنَيلِ كَالنيلِ فَيّاضاً وَكَالسُحُبِ
And he is the one whose fingertips never cease to rain
Gifts, overflowing like the Nile and like the clouds.
وَهوَ الَّذي باللهى في دَهرِنا فَتحُ ال
لهى لَهُ بِبَديعِ المَدحِ وَالخُطَبِ
And he is the one whose gifts in our age open the
Mouths in his honor to wondrous praise and orations.
لَولا نَدى الأَشرَفِ المَيمونِ طائِرُهُ
في دَهرِنا لَم يَرُق عَيشٌ وَلَم يَطِبِ
Were it not for the bounty of al-Ashraf, whose omen is blessed,
Life in our age would be neither pleasant nor sweet.
بِالسَيبِ وَالسَيفِ في يَومَي نَدىً وَردىً
حَمى الوَرى من طوىً وَالوَحشَ مِن سَغَبِ
With bounty and sword, in days of giving and death,
He protected mankind from hunger, and wild beasts from starvation.
خُذ ما تَرى مِنهُ مِن هَزمِ الكَتائِبِ وَال
جودِ الغَزيرِ وَدَع ما جاءَ في الكُتُبِ
Take what you see from him of routing battalions and
Abundant generosity, and leave what is written in books.
لَم تَلقَ غُرَّتَهُ الشَمسُ المُنيرَةُ في ال
نَهارِ إِلّا بِوَجهٍ غَير مُتَّئِبِ
The shining sun has never met his radiant brow in the
Daytime except with a face unashamed.
فَالبَحرُ وَالشَمسُ لَم يوجَد نَظيرُهُما
في كُلِّ دَهرٍ تَوَلَّتهُ يَدُ الحِقَبِ
For the sea and sun have never had their equals
In any age governed by the hand of the eras.
يُفني الرِضى ما لَهُ قَبلَ السُؤالَ كَما
يُفني العِدا بَأسُهُ في ساعَةِ الغَضَبِ
His goodwill exhausts what he owns before anyone asks, just as
His might destroys enemies in the hour of anger.
وَما أشَبِّهُهُ بِاللَيثِ وَهوَ لَهُ
صَيدٌ وَكيفَ يُقاسُ الصَقرُ بِالخَرَبِ
And I do not liken him to a lion, for it is his
Prey; how can a falcon be compared with a male bustard?
فَالسَعدُ يَخدِمُهُ وَالنَصرُ يقدمُهُ
فَلو يَشاءُ لَفَضَّ النَبعَ بِالغَرَبِ
So good fortune serves him, and victory goes before him;
So if he wished, he would shatter hard bow-wood with willow.
فَالجَيشُ مِثلُ كُعوبِ الرُمحِ مُطَّرِداً
وَهوَ السِنانُ أَمامَ الجَحفَلِ اللَجِبِ
So the army is like the joints of a spear, ranged in unbroken order,
And he is the spearhead before the clamorous host.
ما الرُمحُ إِن لَم تُتَوِّجهُ بِلَهذَمِهِ
يَومَ الطِعانِ بِهِ إِلا مِنَ القَصَبِ
A spear, if you do not crown it with its keen point
On the day of thrusting with it, is nothing but reed.
يا دَهرُ إِن لَم تَكُن تَحنو عَلَيَّ فَلي
موسى فَلَم أَخشَ أَنياباً مِن النُوَبِ
O Time, if you show me no kindness, I have
Musa, so I have no fear of calamities' fangs.
وَليسَ لي بَعدَ لُطفِ اللَهِ غَيرُ نَدى
يَمينِهِ فَهوَ يَأتيني بِلا سَبَبِ
And after God's kindness, I have nothing but the bounty of
His right hand, which comes to me without cause.
لَكِن رَجاءَ ثَوابِ اللَهِ يَبعَثُهُ
عَلى المَراحِمِ لا فَضلي وَلا أَدَبي
But hope of God's reward impels him
To acts of mercy—not my merit or my literary skill.
اللَهُ صَوَّرَهُ مِن نورِ رَحمَتِهِ
فَالخَلقُ يَدعونَهُ يا فارِجَ الكُرَبِ
God formed him from the light of His mercy,
So creation calls him: "O reliever of distress!"
مُظَفَّرَ الدينِ لا فارَقتَ تَهنِئَةً
بِما يُوافي بِسُؤلِ النَفسِ وَالأَرَبِ
Muzaffar al-Din, may congratulations never leave you
For all that fulfills the soul's wishes and desires.
هُنِّئت بِالجَوسَقِ العالي الَّذي عَجَزَت
عَن وَصفِهِ فُصحاءُ العُجمِ وَالعَرَبِ
Congratulations on the lofty palace: powerless
To describe it are the eloquent of non-Arabs and Arabs.
كَالقَصرِ في الجَنَّةِ الفَيحاءِ يَحسُدُهُ
إيوان كِسرى عَلى ما فيهِ مِن نُخَبِ
Like a palace in spacious Paradise, it is envied by
Kisra's vaulted hall, despite all its choice splendors.
يَشُقُّهُ نَهرٌ ناهيكَ مِن نَهَرٍ
كَأَنَّهُ الكَوثَرُ المُعاهُ خَير نَبي
A river cuts through it—what a river!
As though it were al-Kawthar, [granted to] the best of prophets.
أَبدى المُهَندِسُ خَطَّي الاستواءِ بِهِ
فَالماءُ يَركُضُ بِالتَقريبِ وَالخَبَبِ
The engineer laid out two level lines within it,
So the water races at a canter and a trot.
كَأَنَّما قَصرُهُ في دستِهِ مَلِكٌ
كُلُّ القُصورِ لَدَيهِ لاثِمُ العَتَبِ
His palace is like a king upon his throne,
All palaces before it kissing its thresholds.
كَالأَشرَفِ المَلكِ القيل الَّذي خَضَعَت
شوسُ المُلوكِ لَهُ تَحنو عَلى الركبِ
Like al-Ashraf, the king and sovereign, before whom bow
The haughty kings, bending upon their knees.
نارنجهُ كَنُهودِ الغيدِ تحسدُها
أَحداقُ نَرجِسُهُ المُخضَرَّةُ القضبِ
Its bitter oranges, like graceful maidens' breasts, are envied by
The eyes of its green-stemmed narcissi.
في ظِلِّهِ نَغَمُ الأَوتارِ تَنعَمُ بِال
أَوطارِ مِن صخبٍ يَأتي بِمُصطحَبِ
In its shade are melodies of strings; you delight in the
Fulfillment of desires, through clamor arising in company.
في رَوضَةِ الحورِ وَالوِلدانُ راتِعَةٌ
وَكُلُّهُم عَن رِضى رضوان لَم يَغِبِ
In a garden where houris and youths roam at ease,
And none is absent from Ridwan's favor.
وَكُلُّما تَتَمَنّاهُ النُفوسُ بِهِ
تَلقاهُ مِن طَرب مُلهٍ وَمِن طَلَبِ
And all that souls desire within it
You find: diverting delight and whatever you seek.
وَما هِزَبرٌ هَريتُ الشدق ذو لَبَد
وَردُ السِبالِ قَوِيُّ الرَمي بِالشَجَبِ
And no lion, wide of maw and thick of mane,
Ruddy-whiskered, mighty in dealing destruction,
لَهُ إِهاب كَتِجفافِ الكَمّي حصا
نُهُ حَريصٌ عَلى المَسلوبِ لا السَلَبِ
With a hide like the armor of a warrior's
Horse, coveting the victim, not the spoils,
جَهمٌ مُحَيّاهُ رِئبالُ قُضاقِضَة
غضَنفَرُ لَم يَخِف مَوتاً وَلَم يَهَبِ
Grim-faced, a fierce, bone-crushing lion,
A mighty lion who has never feared death or felt dread,
لَهُ أَظافِرُ حُجنٌ قد بَرَزنَ كَأَن
صافِ الأَهِلَّةِ مَن جِلبابِ مُختَضِبِ
With hooked claws jutting out like
Half-crescents from a dyed cloak,
تَظَلُّ خاضِعَةً غُلبُ الأسود لَهُ
خَوفاً ضَوارِب بِالأَذقانِ مِن رُعُبِ
Before whom thick-necked lions remain submissive,
In fear, striking the ground with their chins in terror—
يَوماً بِأَعظَمِ مِن موسى المُظَفَّرِ إِن
دارَت رَحى الحَربِ ذاتُ الجَحفَلِ اللَجِبِ
Is ever greater than Musa the Victorious, if
The mill of war turns with its clamorous host.
يا رَبَّنا فَاِخرِقِ العاداتِ فيهِ لَنا
حَتّى يُرى عَن خُلودٍ غَيرَ مُنقَضِبِ
O our Lord, break the customary order for him, for our sake,
So that he may be seen never cut off from eternal life.
لازالَ في المُلكِ ما هَبَّ النَسيمُ وَما
تَغَنَّتِ الوُرقُ في الأَوراقِ مِن طَرَبِ
May he remain in sovereignty as long as the breeze blows and
The gray doves sing for joy among the leaves.
Sol 6.1