أَلَم تَرِمِ الأَطلالَ مِن حَولِ جُعشُمِ
مَعَ الظاعِنِ المُستَلحِقِ المُتَقَسِّمِ
Did you not leave the ruins around Ju'shum, with the departing one who joins others and scatters?
To the thicket of Al-Athar, whose traces were altered by the daughters of decay; whoever death misses, grows old.
إِلى عَيثَةِ الأَطهارِ غَيَّرَ رَسمَها
بَناتُ البِلى مَن يُخطِئِ المَوتَ يَهرَمِ
To Al-Bishr, then Al-Qattar, then Al-Jisr, then Al-Safa, where the wind is grim-faced, deaf, and hard as rock.
Every sweeping, violent wind persisted upon it, swift in succession, wide in its breath.
إِلى البِشرِ فَالقَتاّرِ فَالجِسرِ فَالصَفا
بِكالِحَةِ الأَنيابِ صَمّاءَ صِلدِمِ
A stinging gale whose appointment is the forenoon; when it roars, it comes with a tyrannical assault.
Swift, towering, restless, and rough; you see the deserts pelted by its violent gusting.
أَرَبَّت عَلَيها ُلَّ هَوجاءَ سَهوَةٍ
زَفوفِ التَوالي رَحبَةِ المُتَنَسِّمِ
It moans but nurses no weaned colt, yet if it finds the hollows of the wastelands, it rumbles and tends to them.
It blows from the Yemeni lowlands and ends at the fringes of Al-Huwwar—oh, how far the sound travels!
إِبارِيَّةٍ هَوجاءَ مَوعِدُها الضُحى
إِذا أَرزَمَت جاءَت بِوِردٍ غَشَمشَمِ
It spends the night sleepless, and its humble dust rises, causing misery in every mountain pass.
It has a sieve through which it scatters, when it storms, fine dust from the soil, like twins.
زَفوفٍ نِيافِ هَيرَعٍ عَجرَفِيَّةٍ
تَرى البيدَ مِن إِعصافِها الجَرى تَرتَمي
If it storms upon a trace, no tent-peg remains standing within it, save for the brief moment of an oath-taker.
A Yemeni wind, with Marran of Shabwa before it; and a Levantine Sheikh—is the Yemeni one ill-omened?
نَحِنُّ وَلَم تَرأَم فَصيلاً وَإِن تَجِد
فَيافي غيطانٍ تَهَدَّجُ وَتَرأَمِ
So to God belongs the one who travels by night with Najran before him, towards the Monastery of Hasma or the Monastery of Damdam.
If a greeting from it appears in Najd, it has another trotting forth at the gathering season.
تَهُبُّ مِنَ الغَورِ اليَماني وَتَنتَهي
إِلى هُدبِ الحُوّارِ يا بُعدَ مَسعَمِ
How many a noble, interposing chief has settled there, pure in generosity, a cup-bearer in the waterless waste, well-fed.
Lean-bellied, a squanderer of wealth when the east wind blows; a diver into deep matters, and a stalwart in the tribe.
تَبيتُ وَلَم تَهجَع فَيُصبِحُ ذَليلُها
لَهُ ثائِبٌ يَشقى بِهِ كُلُّ مَخرِمِ
And dark cauldrons the maidens tend to, vast in size; were their hollows ignorant, they would not show forbearance.
You see every bulky, persistent beast of purpose, swift with the remains of an aged camel, hollow and vast.
لَها مُنخُلٌ تُذري إِذا عَصَفَت بِهِ
أَهابِيَّ سَفسافٍ مِنَ التُربِ تَوأَمِ
Possessing a clamor at the onset of darkness, resembling the roaring of a passing, thunderous rain.
When it settles around the tents, it is as though you see the mirage flowing from troops of fasting men.
إِذا عَصَفَت رَسماً فَلَيسَ بِدائِمٍ
بِهِ وَتَدٌ إِلّا تَحِلَّةَ مُقسِمِ
And a high-humped camel crawling, its legs struggling to follow, amidst a loud lute and a funeral gathering.
And a warrior in armor or flowing robes upon a purebred steed, beautiful in the gloom, charging with a straightened lance.
يَمانِيَّةُ مَرّانُ شَبوَةَ دونَها
وَشَيخٌ شَآمٌ هَل يَمانٍ بِمُشئِمِ
When the dizziness of his throat clears from him, and two garments from that marked striping remain...
He came to us with head held high, his head bound; who will help you in the matter of the obscured, blamed calamity?
فَلِلَهِ مَن يَسري وَنَجرانُ دونَهُ
إِلى ديرِ حَسمى أَو إِلى دَيرِ ضَمضَمِ
Our overseer prays over those of us who have died, reading until the saliva dries in his mouth.
We are distracted from hoping for the affection of a noble, freeborn woman, nor do we build a tent for a widow.
إِذا عَرَضَت مِنها بِنَجدٍ تَحِيَّةٌ
فَإِنَّ لَها أُخرى تَخُبُّ بِمَوسِمِ
O rider, if you should pass by, convey the message to our tribes at Al-Akhramayn and Jawram.
And convey to Abu Al-Wajna' the appointment of his people at Hawrit, departing willingly, not forced.
وَكَم حَلَّها مِن تَيَّحانٍ سَمَيدَعِ
مُصافي النَدى ساقٍ بِيَهماءَ مُطعَمِ
They swerved from the path of good, save for a little, and took a great bite of pure evil.
Let it gladden you that we have settled in a land where both sides are miserable, offering no comfort.
طَوي البَطنِ مِتلافٍ إِذا هَبَّتِ الصِبا
عَلى الأَمرِ غَوّاصٍ وَفي الحَيِّ شَيظَمِ
Our women walk along the banks of the Balikh, widows begging for food with hand and mouth.
Survivors of pleurisy, fever, and measles; of hunger, plague, affliction, and debt.
وَدُهمٍ تُصاديها الوَلائِدُ جَلَّةٍ
إِذا جَهِلَت أَجوافُها لَم تَحَلَّمِ
I see my she-camel yearning at night, stirred by a song like the wailing of a harmonious foreigner.
تَرى كُلَّ هِرجابٍ لَجوجٍ لِهِمَّةٍ
زَفوفٍ بِشِلوِ النابِ جَوفاءَ عَيلَمِ
لَها زَجَلٌ جُنحَ الظَلامِ كَأَنَّهُ
عَجارِفُ غَيثٍ رائِحٍ مُتَهَزِّمِ
إِذا رَكَدَت حَولَ البُيوتِ كَأَنَّما
تَرى الآلَ يَجري عَن قَنابِلِ صُيَّمِ
وَكَوماءَ تَحبو ما تَشايَعَ ساقُها
لَدى مِزهَرٍ ضارٍ أَجَشَّ وَمَأتَمِ
وَذي بضدَنٍ أَو مَسبِلٍ فَوقَ قارِحٍ
جَميلِ الدُجى يَعدو بِلَدنٍ مُقَوَّمِ
إِذا اِنفَرَجَت عَنهُ سَماديرُ حَلقِهِ
وَبُردانِ مِن ذاكَ الخِلاجِ المُسَهَّمِ
أَتانا طَموحَ الرَأسِ عاصِبَ رَأسِهِ
فَمَن لَكَ مِن أَمرِ العَماسِ المُلَوَّمِ
يُصَلّي على مَن ماتَ مِنّا عَريفُنا
وَيَقرَأُ حَتّى يعصِبَ الريقُ بِالفَمِ
عَلِهنَ فَما نَرجو حَنيناً لِحِرَّةٍ
هِجانٍ وَلا نَبني خِباءً لِأَيمِ
فَيا راكِباً إِمّا عَرَضتَ فَبَلِّغَن
قَبائِلَنا بِالأَخرَمينِ وَجورَمِ
وَبَلِّغ أَبا الوَجناءِ مَوعِدَ قَومِهِ
بِحَوريتَ تَظعَن راغِباً غَيرَ مُقحَمِ
نَأَت عَن سَبيلَ الخَيرِ إِلّا أَقَلَّهُ
وَعَضَّت مِنَ الشَرِّ القَراحَ بِمُعظَمِ
لِيَهنِكُمُ أَنّا نَزَلنا بِبَلدَةٍ
كِلا مَلَوَيها مُبئِسٌ غَيرُ مُنعِمِ
تُمَشّي بِأَكنافِ البَليخِ نِساؤُنا
أَرامِلَ يَستَطعِمنَ بِالكَفِّ وَالفَمِ
نَقائِذَ بِرسامٍ وَحُمّى وَحَصبَةٍ
وَجوعٍ وَطاعونٍ وَنَقرٍ وَمَغرَمِ
أَرى ناقَتي حَنَّت بِلَيلٍ وَشاقَها
غِناءٌ كَنَوحِ الأَعجَمِ المُتَوائِمِ
