إِباءٌ أَقامَ الدَهرَ عَنّي وَأَقعَدا

وَصَبرٌ عَلى الأَيّامِ أَنأى وَأَبعَدا

A resolve that has kept time away from me and made it sit still,

And patience over days that have become remote and distant,

وَقلَبٌ تَقاضاهُ الجَوانِحُ أَنَّةً

إِذا راحَ مَلآناً مِنَ الهَمِّ أَو غَدا

And a heart that passionate souls crave to be gentle,

When it is filled with worries or when morning comes,

أَخوذٌ عَلى أَيدي المَطامِعِ بِالنَوى

نِزاعاً وَما يَزدادُ إِلّا تَبَعُّدا

Seized by greedy hands with determination,

Quarrelling, and only growing further apart,

إِذا رَكِبَت آمالُهُ ظَهرَ نِيَّةٍ

رَأَيتَ غُلاماً غائِرَ الشَوقِ مُنجِدا

When its hopes ride on the back of an intention,

You see a young man plunged in passion giving help,

غَذِيَّ زَماعٍ لا يَمَلُّ كَأَنَّما

يَرى اللَيلَ كَوراً وَالمَجَرَّةَ مِقوَدا

A vigilant warrior who never tires, as though

He sees the night as a plain and the galaxy as a guide,

يُلَثِّمُ عِرنينَ الحُسامِ بِهِمَّةٍ

تُكَلِّفُهُ خَوضَ اللَيالي مُجَرَّدا

He dedicates himself to the clashing of swords with determination

That makes him dare to plunge into the nights undressed,

أَيا خاطِباً وُدّي عَلى النَأيِ إِنَّني

صَديقُكَ إِن كُنتَ الحُسامَ المُهَنَّدا

O you whose love I seek from afar, I am indeed

Your friend if you are the sharpened sword,

فَإِنّي رَأَيتُ السَيفَ أَنصَرَ لِلفَتى

إِذا قالَ قَولاً ما ضِياً أَو تَوَعَّدا

For I have seen the sword aid the young man

When he speaks a word, whether plain or threatening,

أَرى بَينَ نيلِ العِزِّ وَالذُلِّ ساعَةً

مِنَ الطَعنِ تَقتادُ الوَشيجَ المُقَصَّدا

I see between attaining honor and disgrace an instant

Of stabbing that leads the lance to the intended spot,

فَمَن أَخَّرَتهُ نَفسُهُ ماتَ عاجِزاً

وَمَن قَدَّمَتهُ نَفسُهُ ماتَ سَيّدا

So one whom his soul delays dies unsuccessful

While one whom his soul puts first dies a master,

إِذا كانَ إِقَدامُ الفَتى ضائِراً لَهُ

فَما المَجدُ مَطلوباً وَلا العِزُّ مُفتَدى

If a young man’s daring brings harm to him

Glory is not sought nor is honor ransomable,

فِدىً لِاِبنِ عُبّادِ ضَنينٌ بِنَفسِهِ

إِذا نَقَضَ الرَوعُ الطِرافَ المُمَدَّدا

Ransom for the son of 'Ubbad, a grudge in his soul,

When alarm breaks the outstretched guy-ropes,

وَدَبَّرَ أَطرافَ الرِماحِ وَإِنَّما

يُدَبِّرُ قَبلَ الطَعنِ رَأياً مُسَدَّدا

And he organizes the tips of the lances but rather

Before stabbing he plans a well-aimed opinion,

بِهِ طالَ مِن خَطوي وَكُنتُ كَأَنَّني

مَشَيتُ إِلى نَيلِ المَعالي مُقَيَّدا

With it I walked my steps and it was as though

I walked to achieve heights bound,

وَمَن ماتَ في حَبسِ المَذَلَّةِ قَلبهُ

رَأى العِزَّ في دارِ المَذَلَّةِ مَولِدا

And whoever dies in the captivity of disgrace, his heart

Sees honor born in the abode of disgrace,

يَسُرُّ الفَتّى حَملُ النَجادِ وَرُبَّما

رَأى حَتفَهُ في صَفحَتي ما تَقَلَّدا

A young man rejoices bearing weapons, and perhaps

He will see his death in the blade he carries,

لَنالَ المَعالي مَن يُدِلُّ بِنَفسِهِ

وَلا يَذخَرُ الآباءَ مَجداً مُوَطَّدا

One attains heights who risks himself

And does not hoard ancestral glory made firm,

وَما يُستَفادُ العِزِّ مِن شَيمَةِ الفَتى

إِذا كانَ في دينِ المَعالي مُقَلِّدا

Glory is not gained from the noble manners of a youth

If he is an imitator in the religion of heights.

أَبا قاسِمٍ هَذا الَّذي كُنتُ راجِياً

لِأُرغِمَ أَعداءً وَأَكبِتَ حُسَّدا

O Abu Qasim, this is what I hoped for

To subdue enemies and humble the envious,

إِذا جَزِعَت أَيّامُنا كُنتَ مَعقِلاً

وَإِن ظَمِئَت أَمالُنا كُنتَ مَورِدا

If our days are shaken you are a refuge

And if our hopes are thirsty you are a watering place,

وَلَمّا رَأَيتُ الثَوبَ يُعفي قَرينَهُ

لَبِستُ إِلَيكَ الشَرعَبيَّ المُعَضَّدا

And when I saw a robe shield its counterpart

I donned the striped cloak reaching to you,

وَلَو كانَ لا يَجني عَلى المَرءِ بَأسُهُ

لَدَرَّعَني العَزمُ الدِلاصَ المُسَرَّدا

And if harming a man with one's might were not possible

My resolve would have clothed me in an impenetrable coat of mail,

وَلَيلٍ دَفَعناهُ إِلَيكَ كَأَنَّما

دَفَعنا بِهِ لُجّاً مِنَ اليَمِّ مُزبِدا

And a night we handed over to you as though

We pushed away with it a surging sea wave,

وَشَمسٍ خَلَعناها عَليكَ مَريضَةً

وَكُنّا لَبِسناها رِداءً مَوَرَّدا

And a sun whose robe we stripped for you while sick

When we would have worn it as a flowing garment,

وَمَلِكٍ إِنفنا أَن نُقيمَ بِبابِهِ

فَزَوَّدنا زادَ اِمرِىءٍ ما تَزَوَّدا

And a king—we disdained to stay at his gate

So we took provisions like a scorned man not provisioning,

وَأَمرَدَ حَيٍّ مُلتَحِ بِلِثامِهِ

يَطولُ جَواداً قادِحَ السِنِّ أَجرَدا

And a lively gray horse, masked with his headcloth,

Running long, striking sparks with his teeth when he runs,

رَأى أَرجُلَ الخوصِ الحِماصٍ كَأَنَّما

تُسالِبُ أَيديها النَجاءَ العَمَرَّدا

Who saw the legs of the white-footed ostrich as though

Its hands were stripping the naked sand grouse,

تَركنا لِأَيدي العيسِ ما خَلفَ ظَهرِها

وَمَن ذَلَّ في دارٍ رَأى البُعدَ أَحمَدا

We left behind for the hands of enemies what was behind them,

And whoever is humiliated in a land sees remoteness as more beloved,

وَسِرنا عَلى رُغمِ الظَلامِ كَأَنَّنا

بُدورٌ تُلاقي مِن جَنابِكَ أَسعُدا

And we traveled against the darkness happily as though

We were bedouin meeting your side, more fortunate,

تَرَكتُ إِلَيكَ الناسَ طُرّاً كَأَنَّني

أَرى كُلَّ مَحجوبٍ بَعيراً مُعَبَّدا

I left people as a treasure to you as though

I saw each hidden thing as a camel marked,

فَيا لَيتَ رُعيانَ القَضيمَةِ خَيَّروا

بَأَنّي رَعَيتُ العِزَّ غَضّاً مُجَدَّدا

Would that the people of Qasim had let me choose

That I shepherd glory renewed and replenished!

فَلِلَّهِ نورٌ في مُحَيّاكَ إِنَّهُ

يُمَزِّقُ جِلباباً مِنَ اللَيلِ أَربَدا

For God, there is light in your smile, it

Rips apart a cloak of night that is ice cold,

وَلِلَّهِ ما ضَمَّت ثَناياكَ إِنَّها

ثَنايا جِبالٍ تُطِلعُ اليَأسَ وَالنَدى

And for God, what your cheeks contain, they

Are mountain slopes that make hope and dew appear,

أَغِر ضَوءَها يا قِبلَةَ المَجدِ إِنَّني

أَرى غُرَرَ الآمالِ نَحوَكَ سُجَّدا

Ignite their glow, O pinnacle of glory, I see

The brightest of hopes bowing down toward you,

وَأَنتَ الَّذي ما اِحتَلَّ في الأَرضِ مَقعَداً

مِنَ الحَدِّ إِلّا اِشتَقَّ في الجَوِّ مَصعَدا

It is you whom, when he gained a seat on earth

From limit to limit, ascended into the heavens,

إِذا ظَمِئَت عيسٌ إِلَيكَ فَإِنَّما

حَقائِبُها تَروي لُجَبناً وَعَسجَدا

When enemies are thirsty for you, their saddlebags

Quench a lowland and a plain grown with herbage,

تُكَتِّمُكَ الأَسرارُ حَزماً وَفِطنَةً

وَتَفَضَحُكَ الآراءُ عِزّاً وَسُؤدُدا

Secrets keep you judiciously and wisely

While opinions expose you gloriously and loftily,

وَما كُنتَ إِلّا السَيفَ يُعرَفُ مُنتَضىً

وَيُنكَرُ في بَعضِ المَواطِنِ مُغمَدا

You were only the sword, known when unsheathed

And unknown in some situations when sheathed,

وَحَيٍّ جُلالٍ قَد صَبَحتَ بِغارَةٍ

مِنَ الخَيلِ يَستاقُ النَعامَ المُشَرَّدا

And a noble, dignified day you made with a raid

Of horses driving away the scattered ostriches,

وَيومٍ مِنَ الأَيّامِ شَوَّهتَ وَجهَهُ

بِأَغبَرَ كَدَّ الطَيرَ حَتّى تَبَلَّدا

And a day you made ugly by covering its face

With the dust of war until the birds molted,

رَمَت بِكَ أَقصى المَجدِ نَفسٌ شَريفَةٌ

وَقَلبٌ جَريءٌ لا يَخافُ مِنَ الرَدى

A noble soul cast you to the furthest glory

And a bold heart fearing no harm,

وَهِمَّةُ مِقدامٍ عَلى كُلِّ فَتكَةٍ

يُفارِقُ فيها طَبعُهُ ما تَعوَّدا

And the determination of a daring man against every struggle

Where his nature departs from what it was accustomed to,

مُقيمٌ بِصَحراءِ الضَغائِنِ مُصحِراً

إِذا أَخمَدَت مِن نارِها الحَربُ أَوقَدا

Remaining in the desert of grudges, staying up at night

When the war dampened its fire or kindled it,

لَكَ القَلَمُ الماضي الَّذي لَو قَرَنتَهُ

بِجَريِ العَوالي كانَ أَجرى وَأَجوَدا

To you belongs the dominant pen which, if coupled

With the flow of feats, would be the most flowing and generous,

إِذا اِنسَلَّ مِن عَقدِ البَنانِ حَسَبتهُ

يَحوكُ عَلى القُرطاسِ بُرداً مُعَمَّدا

If it escapes from the knot of fingers you would think

It sews on paper an embroidered coat of mail,

يُغازِلُ مِنهُ الخَطُّ عَيناً كَحيلُةً

إِذا عادَ يَوماً ناظِرُ الرَمحِ أَرمَدا

The writing coquets with it flirtatiously

If the observer of the lance returns one day bleary-eyed,

وَإِن مَجَّ نَصلٌ مِن دَمِ الصِربِ أَحمَراً

أَراقَ دَماً مِن مَقتَلِ الخَطبِ أَسوَدا

And if the point of a reddened sword from enemy blood flows

It spills the blackened blood of stirring events,

إِذا اِستَرعَفَتهُ هِمَّةٌ مِنكَ غادَرَت

قَوادِمَهُ تَجري وَعيداً وَمَوعِدا

If a resolve from you provokes it, it unleashes

Its arrivals, running with threats and appointments,

سَأُثني بِأَشعاري عَليكَ فَإِنَّني

رَأَيتُ مَسودَ القَومِ يُطري المُسَوَّدا

I will praise you in my poetry, for I have seen

The blackened person sing praises of the blackened one,

فَما عَرَفتني الأَرضُ غَيرَكَ مُطلَباً

وَلا بَلَغَتني العيسُ إِلّاكَ مَقصَدا

For I have known none but you as my quest

And no horses have taken me to any destination but you,

أَلا إِنَّ تَركَ الحَمدِ تَبخيلُ مُحسِنٍ

وَما بَذَلَ المِعطاءُ إِلّا لِيُحمَدا

Lo, withholding praise is miserliness by one who bestows kindness,

And none gives gifts but to be praised,

لَئِن كُنتُ في مَدحِ العُلى فاغِراً فَماً

فَأنّي إِلى غَيرِ النَدى باسِطٌ يَدا

If I am open-mouthed in praising the sublime, I have not

Stretched my hand to other than bounty,

خَطَبتُ إِلَيكَ الوُدَّ لا شَيءَ غَيرَهُ

وَوُدُّ الفَتى كَالبِرِّ يُعطى وَيُجتَدى

I have sought your affection, nothing else,

And the affection of a young man is given and ransomed,

دَعاني إِلَيكَ العِزُّ حَتّى أَجَبتُهُ

وَمَن طَلَبَتهُ جُمَّةُ الماءِ أَورَدا

Honor called me to you until I answered it,

And whoever the whole of water sought gave to drink,

وَإِنّي لَأَرجو مِن جِوارِكَ فَعلَةً

أَغيظُ بِها الحُسّادَ مَثنىً وَمَوحَدا

And I hope to annoy the envious with a feat

From being your neighbor, doubly and singularly,

وَمَدحُكَ هَذا بِكرُ مَدحٍ مَدَحتُهُ

وَكُنتُ أُروضُ القَولَ حَتّى تَسَدَّدا

And this praise of you is the first praise I praised,

And I trained speech until it was precise,

وَلَو عَلِقَت مِنّي بِغَيرِكَ مَدحَةٌ

لَكُنتُ كَمَن يَعتاضُ بِالماءِ جَلمَدا

And had any praise of others clung to me

I would be like one who strains the frozen water,

وَلَستُ بِراضٍ هَذِهِ لَكَ تُحفَةٌ

أُضَمِّنُها فيكَ الثَناءَ المُخَلَّدا

I am not pleased that this alone is a gift to you

In which I include eternal praise,

فَإِن كانَ شِعري فاتَكَ اليَومَ آبِياً

عَلَيَّ فَإِنّي سَوفَ أُعطيكَهُ غَدا

For if my poetry missed you today, refusing,

I shall give it to you tomorrow,

وَلَولاكَ ما أَومى إِلى المَدحِ شاعِرٌ

يَعُدُّ عَلِياً لِلعُلى وَمُحَمَّدا

And were it not for you, no poet would gesture

To praise, counting lofty ‘Ali and Muhammad,

أَبوهُ أَبوهُ المُستَطيلُ بِنَفسِهِ

عَلى العِزِّ مَصروفاً بِهِ وَمُقَلَّدا

His father, his father is tall in himself

Dedicated to honor, mandated by it and conforming,

فَتىً سَنُّهُ عَن خَمسَ عَشَرَةَ حِجَّةً

تُرَبّي لَهُ فَضلاً وَمَجداً وَمَحتِدا

A youth whose age surpasses fifteen years

Cultivating for him superiority, glory, and resolve,

فَتِيُّ الصِبا كَهلُ الفَضائِلِ ما مشى

إِلى العُمرِ إِلّا اِحتَلَّ في الفَضلِ مَقعَدا

The youth of youth but the sage of merits—he did not walk

To old age unless he assumed virtue’s seat,

تَفَرَّدَ لا يُفشي إِلى غَيرِ نَفسِهِ

حَديثاً وَلا يَدعو مِنَ الناسِ مُنجِدا

Independent, not confiding to other than himself

A conversation, nor calling people for help,

وَلا طالِباً مِن دَهرِهِ فَوقَ قُوَتِهِ

كَفاني مِنَ الغُدرَانِ ما نَقَعَ الصَدى

Nor asking his time for more than his strength,

What sufficed me from betrayals fell within earshot,

سَأَحمَدُ عَيشاً صانَ وَجهي بِمائِهِ

وَإِن كانَ ما أَعطى قَليلاً مُصَرَّدا

I will praise a living that protected my face with its water

Even if what it gave was frugal and sparse,

وَقالوا لِقاءُ الناسِ أُنسٌ وَراحَةٌ

وَلَو كُنتُ أَرضى الناسَ ماكُنتُ مُفَردا

And they said: mingling with people is intimacy and comfort,

But had I been pleased with people, I would not have isolated myself,

طَرِبتُ إِلى الفَضلِ الَّذي فيكَ وَاِنتَشى

لِذِكرِكَ شِعري راقِداً وَمُسَهَّدا

I longed for the merit in you, revived

By your mention, my poetry fallen asleep and slumbering,

وَما كِنتُ إِلّا عاشِقاً ضاعَ شَجوُهُ

فَأَصبَحَ يَستَملي الحَمامَ المُغَرِّدا

And I was none but a lover whose passion strayed

Who now entreats the singing dove,

وَلَيسَ عَجيباً إِن طَغى فيكَ مِقوَلٌ

رَآكَ حَقيقاً في المَعالي فَجَوَّدا

Nor is it strange if one carried away speaks of you,

Seeing you truly at the heights, so he gave generously,

بَعُدتُ عَنِ الإِنشادِ مِن غَيرِ رَغبَةٍ

وَلَكِنَّني اِستَخلَفتُ نُعماكَ مُنشِدا

I distanced myself from singing without desire,

But I came after your favors, singing your praise,

فَمُرني بِأَمرٍ قَبلَ مَوتي فَإِنَّني

أَرى المَرءَ لا يَبقى وَإِن بَعُدَ المَدى

So command me before my death, for I see

Man does not remain, even if the distance is far,

وَما المَيتُ إِلّا راحِلٌ كَرِهَ النَوى

وَأَعجَلَهُ المِقدارُ أَن يَتَزَوَّدا

The dead is only a traveller who disliked provisions

And fate hurried him to provision himself,