ردوا الغليل لقلبي المشغوف — Alsharif Alradi

Quench the burning anguish of my passion-stricken heart,

and ward sleep from my tear-drenched eyes.

Let passion gather strength against me, redoubled;

amid sorrows I am no weakling.

I have stitched my ears shut against the faultfinder,

and made myself deaf to blame and harsh rebuke.

I gladly accept dalliance as my necklaces forever,

and the censure of censurers as my earrings.

Is our dwelling at al-Raml anything but far removed?

Or our tribe at al-Jazʿ anything but gone away?

I once knew there a herd like skittish oryx,

each perfect in form, slender and lithe.

A herd—when I paused among its gazelles,

my eyes came to rest, held captive by inward passion.

They graze upon the fruits of hearts, forsaking

spring pasture at al-Liwa and autumn pasture.

How many wounds within the folds of my ribs, for their sake,

have separation’s claws scratched open!

Do not reproach me for gray hair, for it is

the streaking wrought by time, no adornment of mine.

If I could, I would strip its mantle from myself

and cast the sun of its day into eclipse.

Youth was a dark cloud; then it broke apart

to reveal a light neither lovely nor familiar.

Though the arrowheads of gray hastened on, behind them

come evening marches—a harsh drive toward death.

When I contemplated Time, I saw it to be

the noble man’s toil and the base man’s ease;

a fetter upon every well-defended, high-spirited man,

and open range for every abased weakling.

Does the lowborn man draw out his tongue against me?

He shall taste the death I deal in both my spring and summer quarters.

With which of these do you taunt me? May dust fill your mouth!

My inherited glory, or the glory I won myself?

Or my clan? They are men whose custom is,

amid battle’s terror, striking necks and piercing ranks—

each a bright-faced, clear-browed warrior who plunges into danger,

whose name is cried aloud in moments of great calamity.

When tested, they are the foremost points of supple spears,

and against the enemy they are strongholds and caves.

Then go, your soul severed from every hope of it,

before a valley-viper or a thick-maned lion.

I have imposed my accustomed ways upon Time;

I crush its massed armies with my own.

This, while your people stand between one who slanders my clan

with lies, and another who is cursed and assailed.

Glory never struck deep roots within their houses,

nor was generosity ever their constant ally.

Before me, my father made you drink cups of humiliation;

by my hand you shall surely drink cups of death.

That is the straightening tool that sets every crooked thing upright;

and I am the cleaving blade: I cut through every hard-necked man.

Beware when the stallion’s glances blaze

and its fangs draw close together to bite.

Clear the road for a destroyer ravaging its farthest reaches,

advancing loftily along the road’s straight course;

and for a lion that tramples men by overpowering force,

with lances in place of fangs—or with swords.

Brace your heart: you shall never aspire unchallenged

unless my stature and resolute stand appear before you.

Whenever, out of caution, you cast a glance

into the air, my wingbeat in the sky will terrify you.

I swoop upon opportunities whose outcome will grieve you,

rushing like the mighty crested eagle.

Plotting, he imagines that no claimant of Umayya ever

schemed against men—nor any claimant of Thaqif.

I rose high above you, setting

my foot upon heaven’s full-risen moon.

When I governed you, I cut deep into your branches

until my correction straightened what was bent in them.

With stern rebuke I weaned you from your customs

and brought your wrongdoing back to what is right.

Pure in private life, never stained by suspicion;

never, to my discredit, were my locks or curtains.

Though I be turned away, I am not turned from exalted honor,

nor barred from the seats of the great.

And though I remain among you, I am but one man;

forever I stand for thousands of you.