هَل غادَرَ الشُعَراءُ مِن مُتَرَدَّمِ

أَم هَل عَرَفتَ الدارَ بَعدَ تَوَهُّمِ

Have the poets left any ruins from Tadmor?

Have the poets left a single patch of cloth to be mended? / Or did you recognize the ruins only after mere conjecture?

Or have you recognized the abode after imagining it?

O abode of 'Abla at al-Jawa', speak to me! / And good morning to you, abode of 'Abla; be safe and whole.

يا دارَ عَبلَةَ بِالجَواءِ تَكَلَّمي

وَعَمي صَباحاً دارَ عَبلَةَ وَاِسلَمي

O Abila's abode, speak with yearning,

There I halted my she-camel, vast as a high tower, / To fulfill the longing of one who lingers in memory.

And bid good morning to Abila's abode and be safe!

'Abla dwells in al-Jawa', while our people reside / In al-Hazn, al-Samman, and al-Mutathallam.

فَوَقَفتُ فيها ناقَتي وَكَأَنَّها

فَدَنٌ لِأَقضِيَ حاجَةَ المُتَلَوِّمِ

I halted my she-camel there as if

Hail to you, O ruin whose time has long passed, / Empty and desolate since Umm al-Haytham left.

She were a young, yearning doe.

She has settled in the land of the enemy, so seeking you / Has become difficult for me, O daughter of Makhram.

وَتَحُلُّ عَبلَةُ بِالجَواءِ وَأَهلُنا

بِالحَزنِ فَالصَمّانِ فَالمُتَثَلَّمِ

Abila melts with yearning, and our people

I grew attached to her by chance, though I slay her kin— / By your father's life, this is no idle claim.

With sorrow, then silence, then being wrapped up.

You have surely descended—make no mistake about it— / Into the very seat of my heart, a beloved and honored guest.

حُيِّيتَ مِن طَلَلٍ تَقادَمَ عَهدُهُ

أَقوى وَأَقفَرَ بَعدَ أُمِّ الهَيثَمِ

I greeted ruins whose antiquity was powerful

How can I visit you, when your people have camped / At 'Unayzatayn, while ours are at al-Ghaylam?

And more desolate after Umm Al-Hatham.

If you have truly resolved to depart, / Then know your camels were saddled in the dark of night.

حَلَّت بِأَرضِ الزائِرينَ فَأَصبَحَت

عَسِراً عَلَيَّ طِلابُكِ اِبنَةَ مَخرَمِ

It descended upon the land of visitors, so it became

Nothing startled me but the baggage-camels of her clan, / Grazing on khimkhim seeds amidst the encampment.

Difficult for me, the seeker, daughter of Makram!

Among them were forty-two milk-camels, / Black as the under-feathers of a raven.

عُلِّقتُها عَرَضاً وَأَقتُلُ قَومَها

زَعماً لَعَمرُ أَبيكَ لَيسَ بِمَزعَمِ

I tied it, though it was forbidden, and killed its people

She captivates you with a mouth of distinctive, sharp teeth, / Sweet to the kiss, delicious to the taste.

Supposedly - by your father's life - it is no mere claim!

It is as though a merchant’s pouch of musk / Had wafted its fragrance toward you from her mouth,

وَلَقَد نَزَلتِ فَلا تَظُنّي غَيرَهُ

مِنّي بِمَنزِلَةِ المُحَبِّ المُكرَمِ

You alighted, so think none other than me

Or like an untouched meadow, its grasses nourished / By a gentle rain, not mere traces of manure.

To have your station, O beloved, honored one!

Every pure, free-flowing cloud has poured upon it, / Leaving every hollow shimmering like a silver dirham.

كَيفَ المَزارُ وَقَد تَرَبَّعَ أَهلُها

بِعُنَيزَتَينِ وَأَهلُنا بِالغَيلَمِ

How are the graves when their people have settled

Pouring and flowing, so that every evening / The water runs over it without ceasing.

With two maidservants while our people remain with the boy slaves?

The fly remains alone there, never leaving, / Humming constantly like a wine-drinker singing a tune,

إِن كُنتِ أَزمَعتِ الفِراقَ فَإِنَّماْ

زُمَّت رِكابُكُمُ بِلَيلٍ مُظلِمِ

If you intend to part, then your mounts

Trilling, rubbing one leg against the other, / Like a man striking flint with a maimed arm.

Are saddled in the dark night.

She passes her evening and morning on a soft mattress, / While I pass the night on the back of a bridled black steed.

ما راعَني إِلّا حَمولَةُ أَهلِها

وَسطَ الدِيارِ تَسَفُّ حَبَّ الخِمخِمِ

What alarmed me were only the bundles of its people

My cushion is a saddle upon a horse with stout legs, / Broad in the girth, with mighty flanks.

Amidst the abodes pouring down love of the amorous crooner.

Can a strong Shadani she-camel bear me to her abode, / One cursed with dryness, deprived of milk?

فيها اِثنَتانِ وَأَربَعونَ حَلوبَةً

سوداً كَخافِيَةِ الغُرابِ الأَسحَمِ

In it are two and forty waterskins

A tail-swinger after the night journey, marching proudly, / Crushing the hills with the tread of a heavy hoof.

As black as the hidden crow, grey-necked.

As if, in the evening, she strikes the hills / With the swift feet of an ostrich, ears cropped close.

إِذ تَستَبيكَ بِذي غُروبٍ واضِحٍ

عَذبٍ مُقَبَّلُهُ لَذيذِ المَطعَمِ

As it cries with pure, clear late afternoon

The young ostriches flock to him, as herds / Of Yemeni camels flock to a barbarous, stammering herdsman.

Sweet, kissing, pleasant taste.

They follow the crown of his head, as if it were / A litter upon a bier, draped for a funeral.

وَكَأَنَّ فارَةَ تاجِرٍ بِقَسيمَةٍ

سَبَقَت عَوارِضَها إِلَيكَ مِنَ الفَمِ

As if a merchant's carafile with anklets

Small-headed, he returns to visit his eggs in 'Ushayrah, / Like a slave with a long fur coat, ears cut off.

Whose bracelets reached you from the mouth.

She drank from the water of al-Duhrudayn, then swerved, / Fleeing from the watering troughs of al-Daylam.

أَو رَوضَةً أُنُفاً تَضَمَّنَ نَبتَها

غَيثٌ قَليلُ الدِمنِ لَيسَ بِمَعلَمِ

Or a garden the April rains included whose plants

As if, with her off-side, she were shying away / From a wild cat of the evening, screeching and lurking,

A little rain without hail did not teach.

A predatory cat; whenever she turns her wrath upon him, / He wards her off with both paws and mouth.

جادَت عَليهِ كُلُّ بِكرٍ حُرَّةٍ

فَتَرَكنَ كُلَّ قَرارَةٍ كَالدِرهَمِ

It lavished upon it each free, noble she-camel

She knelt at the edge of al-Rida', as if / She knelt upon crackling reeds, hollow and dry.

Leaving every small coin like a dirham.

As if thick syrup or pitch, boiled in a cauldron / Whose sides are stoked with fire,

سَحّاً وَتَسكاباً فَكُلَّ عَشِيَّةٍ

يَجري عَلَيها الماءُ لَم يَتَصَرَّمِ

Pouring down and dripping, so every evening

Oozes from the glands behind her ears—furious and bold, / Strutting like a stallion marked for the stud.

Water flows upon it, not having become stagnant.

If you lower your veil before me, know that I am / Expert at capturing the armored knight.

وَخَلا الذُبابُ بِها فَلَيسَ بِبارِحٍ

غَرِداً كَفِعلِ الشارِبِ المُتَرَنِّمِ

Flies buzz in it, so it has no one spending the night

Praise me for what you know of my nature, / For I am gentle to deal with, provided I am not wronged.

Warbling as the drinker, singing, does.

But if I am wronged, my retaliation is fierce, / Bitter to the taste, like the flavor of gall.

هَزِجاً يَحُكُّ ذِراعَهُ بِذِراعِهِ

قَدحَ المُكِبِّ عَلى الزِنادِ الأَجذَمِ

Jesting, scratching its forearm with its forearm,

I have drunk distinct wine when the midday heat / Settled, bought with bright, marked coin,

The cup of wine set to the short-wicked lamp.

From a yellow glass vessel, etched with lines, / Paired with a white jug held in the left hand, sealed.

تُمسي وَتُصبِحُ فَوقَ ظَهرِ حَشِيَّةٍ

وَأَبيتُ فَوقَ سَراةِ أَدهَمَ مُلجَمِ

You spend the evening and morning atop a saddlecloth

And when I drink, I squander my wealth, / But my honor remains intact, untouched.

While I spent the night atop an unsaddled, bridled camel.

And when I sober up, I do not fall short of generosity, / As you well know my character and nobility.

وَحَشِيَّتي سَرجٌ عَلى عَبلِ الشَوى

نَهدٍ مَراكِلُهُ نَبيلِ المَحزِمِ

My saddlecloth is a saddle on a high-bred she-camel

Many a husband of a beautiful woman I have left sprawled, / His shoulder muscles hissing like the lip of a camel with a cleft lip.

Whose straps are fine, of a superior binder.

My hands were quicker to him with a hasty thrust, / And a spray of blood like the color of dragon's blood.

هَل تُبلِغَنّي دارَها شَدَنِيَّةٌ

لُعِنَت بِمَحرومِ الشَرابِ مُصَرَّمِ

Will an ungrateful she-camel convey me to its abode

Why did you not ask the horsemen, O daughter of Malik, / If you were ignorant of what you did not know?

Cursed with deprived wine, broken?

How I remain constantly upon the saddle of a swift steed, / Strong-bodied, wounded again and again by warriors.

خَطّارَةٌ غِبَّ السُرى زَيّافَةٌ

تَطِسُ الإِكامَ بِوَخذِ خُفٍّ ميثَمِ

A barefoot, Bedouin, Zayyafa she-camel

Sometimes he is stripped for the lance-thrust, and at others / He seeks refuge amidst the harvest of bows.

Who crashes into the ankles with a Meetham shoe?

Those who witnessed the battle will tell you that I / Dive into the clamor of war but abstain from the spoils.

وَكَأَنَّما تَطِسُ الإِكامَ عَشِيَّةً

بِقَريبِ بَينَ المَنسِمَينِ مُصَلَّمِ

It's as if in the evening it crashes into the ankles

And many a heavily armed warrior, whom peers feared to face, / Neither fleeing swiftly nor surrendering,

With something near, between the two nostrils, docked.

My hand bestowed upon him a quick thrust / With a straightened lance, hard at the joints.

تَأوي لَهُ قُلُصُ النَعامِ كَما أَوَت

حِزَقٌ يَمانِيَةٌ لِأَعجَمَ طِمطِمِ

It shelters the ostrich chicks as a Yemeni

I pierced his garments with a solid spear; / The noble one is not forbidden to the lance points.

Old soul shelters a foreign babbler.

So I left him as carrion for the wild beasts to seize, / Gnawing on his fine fingers and his wrist.

يَتبَعنَ قُلَّةَ رَأسِهِ وَكَأَنَّهُ

حِدجٌ عَلى نَعشٍ لَهُنَّ مُخَيَّمِ

It follows the smallness of its head as if

And many a wearer of long chainmail—I tore its links / With my sword, from the defender of the truth, the renowned one.

A howdah upon a bier having tents.

One whose hands are nimble with gaming arrows in winter, / A teardown of wine-merchants' signs, a man blamed for generosity.

صَعلٍ يَعودُ بِذي العُشَيرَةِ بَيضَهُ

كَالعَبدِ ذي الفَروِ الطَويلِ الأَصلَمِ

An ostrich returning at dusk to lay its eggs

When he saw that I had dismounted to face him, / He bared his molars, but not in a smile.

Like an Abyssinian slave of long loose hair.

My last sight of him was at the height of the day, / As if his fingers and head were dyed with indigo.

شَرِبَت بِماءِ الدُحرُضَينِ فَأَصبَحَت

زَوراءَ تَنفِرُ عَن حِياضِ الدَيلَمِ

It drank from Duhur well, so it became

I pierced him with the lance, then set upon him / With a sharp Indian blade of pure steel.

A versa who flees from the pastures of Dalam.

A hero! It was as if his clothes draped a tall tree; / He wore shoes of tanned leather, unmatched.

وَكَأَنَّما تَنأى بِجانِبِ دَفَّها ال

وَحشِيِّ مِن هَزِجِ العَشِيِّ مُؤَوَّمِ

It's as if it moves away with its side from

O gazelle of the hunt, permissible to one who owns her, / But forbidden to me—would that she were not forbidden!

An unsaddled donkey's braying in the evening, distressed,

So I sent my servant-girl, saying to her: 'Go, / Spy out news of her for me, and find out.'

هِرٍ جَنيبٍ كُلَّما عَطَفَت لَهُ

غَضَبى اِتَّقاها بِاليَدَينِ وَبِالفَمِ

A wild donkey, whenever she turns to it

She said: 'I saw the enemy off guard, / And the gazelle is possible for one who would shoot.'

It gets angry, guarding with its hands and mouth.

It was as if she turned with the neck of a doe, / A fawn of the gazelles, free and soft-lipped.

بَرَكَت عَلى جَنبِ الرِداعِ كَأَنَّم

بَرَكَت عَلى قَصَبٍ أَجَشَّ مُهَضَّمِ

It mounted the edge like it mounted

I have been told that 'Amr is ungrateful for my favor, / And ingratitude is a sickness in the soul of the benefactor.

A hollow cane, consumed, compressed.

I observed my uncle’s command in the morning heat, / When lips shrink back from the gleaming teeth,

وَكأَنَّ رُبّاً أَو كُحَيلاً مُعقَد

حَشَّ الوَقودُ بِهِ جَوانِبَ قُمقُمِ

It's as if it were a fox or a jackal, tied up,

In the thick of battle, of which the heroes / Do not complain, except by incoherent muttering.

The firewood piled around a cooking pot's sides.

When they shielded themselves with me against the spears, I did not recoil, / But the place of my advance became too narrow.

يَنباعُ مِن ذِفرى غَضوبٍ جَسرَةٍ

زَيّافَةٍ مِثلَ الفَنيقِ المُكدَمِ

Snarling from the nostrils of an angry, daring,

When I saw the host advancing in their multitudes, / Urging one another on, I charged without blame.

Zayyafa, like the battered Phoenician.

They were calling 'Antara!', while the spears were like / Well-ropes sinking into the chest of my black steed.

إِن تُغدِفي دوني القِناعَ فَإِنَّني

طَبٌّ بِأَخذِ الفارِسِ المُستَلئِمِ

If you hide the waterskin from me, then I

I continued to thrust them back with his throat / And his chest, until he was clothed in blood.

Am content with the taking of the appeased knight.

He swerved from the fall of the lances against his chest, / And complained to me with tears and a whinny.

أَثني عَلَيَّ بِما عَلِمتِ فَإِنَّني

سَمحٌ مُخالَقَتي إِذا لَم أُظلَمِ

Praise me with what you know, for I

Had he known the art of conversation, he would have complained, / And had he known speech, he would have spoken to me.

Am forgiving when I'm not wronged,

Yet it healed my soul and cured its sickness / To hear the cry of the horsemen: 'Woe to you, Antara, advance!'

وَإِذا ظُلِمتُ فَإِنَّ ظُلمِيَ باسِلٌ

مُرٌّ مَذاقَتَهُ كَطَعمِ العَلقَمِ

But if I'm wronged, then my wrong is grim

While the horses plunged into the soft ground, grim-faced, / Between one tall steed and another.

Bitter tasting like aloe juice.

My riding beasts are obedient wherever I wish; / My mind follows, and I drive it with a firm command.

وَلَقَد شَرِبتُ مِنَ المُدامَةِ بَعدَما

رَكَدَ الهَواجِرُ بِالمَشوفِ المُعلَمِ

I drank some wine after

I feared that I might die before the wheel of war / Had turned against the two sons of Damdam,

The Pleiades set with the known rising of Canopus,

Those two who revile my honor though I have not reviled them, / Who vow to shed my blood if I do not meet them.

بِزُجاجَةٍ صَفراءَ ذاتِ أَسِرَّةٍ

قُرِنَت بِأَزهَرَ في الشَمالِ مُفَدَّمِ

From a yellow bottle with a handle

If they do so, [let them know] I left their father / As carrion for the beasts and every massive vulture.

Paired with a flower at its side, bruised.

فَإِذا شَرِبتُ فَإِنَّني مُستَهلِكٌ

مالي وَعِرضي وافِرٌ لَم يُكلَمِ

When I drink, I'm a consumer

Of my money and honor, ample, untouched.

وَإِذا صَحَوتُ فَما أُقَصِّرُ عَن نَدىً

وَكَما عَلِمتِ شَمائِلي وَتَكَرُّمي

And when I become sober, I do not neglect generosity,

As you know my noble traits and generosity,

وَحَليلِ غانِيَةٍ تَرَكتُ مُجَدَّل

تَمكو فَريصَتُهُ كَشَدقِ الأَعلَمِ

By the divorce of a singing slave-girl I left

Her anklet jangling as the fox's cleft jaw.

سَبَقَت يَدايَ لَهُ بِعاجِلِ طَعنَةٍ

وَرَشاشِ نافِذَةٍ كَلَونِ العَندَمِ

My hands outstripped hers, striking suddenly

With a penetrating, sprinkling blow, intense red.

هَلّا سَأَلتِ الخَيلَ يا اِبنَةَ مالِكٍ

إِن كُنتِ جاهِلَةً بِما لَم تَعلَمي

Why not ask the horses, O Malik's daughter,

If you are ignorant of what you do not know,

إِذ لا أَزالُ عَلى رِحالَةِ سابِحٍ

نَهدٍ تَعاوَرُهُ الكُماةُ مُكَلَّمِ

As I still ride a galloping saddle

A doe the Pleiades glance at, marked with beauty spots?

طَوراً يُجَرَّدُ لِلطِعانِ وَتارَةً

يَأوي إِلى حَصدِ القَسِيِّ عَرَمرَمِ

One moment shedding clothes for spearing, another

Seeking the harvest of the short, plump ear.

يُخبِركِ مَن شَهِدَ الوَقيعَةَ أَنَّني

أَغشى الوَغى وَأَعِفُّ عِندَ المَغنَمِ

The one who witnessed the fray will tell you that I

Plunge into the melée and pardon at the spoils of war,

وَمُدَجَّجٍ كَرِهَ الكُماةُ نِزالَهُ

لا مُمعِنٍ هَرَباً وَلا مُستَسلِمِ

A mailed warrior the Pleiades dislike fighting

Neither persisting in flight nor surrendering.

جادَت لَهُ كَفّي بِعاجِلِ طَعنَةٍ

بِمُثَقَّفٍ صَدقِ الكُعوبِ مُقَوَّمِ

My hands lavished upon him a sudden deadly blow

With a balanced, sincere-hilted Indian sword,

فَشَكَكتُ بِالرُمحِ الأَصَمِّ ثِيابَهُ

لَيسَ الكَريمُ عَلى القَنا بِمُحَرَّمِ

A hero whose clothes seem to be in a saddlebag

Not paired like Saturday’s sandals,

فَتَرَكتُهُ جَزَرَ السِباعِ يَنُشنَهُ

يَقضِمنَ حُسنَ بِنانِهِ وَالمِعصَمِ

O ewe, what hunting of one made sacred to me

And forbidden to me - would that she were not forbidden!

وَمِشَكِّ سابِغَةٍ هَتَكتُ فُروجَها

بِالسَيفِ عَن حامي الحَقيقَةِ مُعلِمِ

So I sent my slave girl and said to her, “Go

And find out news of her for me and know!”

رَبِذٍ يَداهُ بِالقِداحِ إِذا شَتا

هَتّاكِ غاياتِ التِجارِ مُلَوَّمِ

She said, “I saw among the enemies a lamb,

And the ewe is attainable by one who covets.”

لَمّا رَآني قَد نَزَلتُ أُريدُهُ

أَبدى نَواجِذَهُ لِغَيرِ تَبَسُّمِ

I warned ‘Amr, ungrateful for my bounty,

And ingratitude corrupts the soul of the benefactor.

عَهدي بِهِ مَدَّ النَهارِ كَأَنَّما

خُضِبَ البَنانُ وَرَأسُهُ بِالعِظلِمِ

I remembered my uncle’s bequest at dawn

As the lips contracted from the clear mouth,

فَطَعَنتُهُ بِالرُمحِ ثُمَّ عَلَوتُهُ

بِمُهَنَّدٍ صافي الحَديدَةِ مِخذَمِ

In the fervor of war which the champions do not complain of

Its tribulations other than with moans.

بَطَلٍ كَأَنَّ ثِيابَهُ في سَرحَةٍ

يُحذى نِعالَ السِبتِ لَيسَ بِتَوأَمِ

When they avoid me with sharp tongues, I do not worry

About them, but I am troubled by my vanguard being constrained

يا شاةَ ما قَنَصٍ لِمَن حَلَّت لَهُ

حَرُمَت عَلَيَّ وَلَيتَها لَم تَحرُمِ

When I saw the people approaching, their group

Whispering, I turned away without being blamed.

فَبَعَثتُ جارِيَتي فَقُلتُ لَها اِذهَبي

فَتَجَسَّسي أَخبارَها لِيَ وَاِعلَمي

They call upon ‘Antar while the spears are like

The poles of a well in the whiteness of the dark.

قالَت رَأَيتُ مِنَ الأَعادي غِرَّةً

وَالشاةُ مُمكِنَةٌ لِمَن هُوَ مُرتَمِ

My steeds are docile wherever I desire, accompanying me.

I spur them on with a resolute command.

وَكَأَنَّما اِلتَفَتَت بِجيدِ جَدايَةٍ

رَشإٍ مِنَ الغِزلانِ حُرٍّ أَرثَمِ

I feared that I would die and you would not know

The vicissitudes of war upon my two sons, pressed together.

نِبِّئتُ عَمرواً غَيرَ شاكِرِ نِعمَتي

وَالكُفرُ مَخبَثَةٌ لَنَفسِ المُنعِمِ

Those who insult me I do not insult,

And those who threaten me if I do not meet them with my blood,

وَلَقَد حَفِظتُ وَصاةَ عَمّي بِالضُحى

إِذ تَقلِصُ الشَفَتانِ عَن وَضَحِ الفَمِ

If they do so, I have left their father

Prey for beasts and every vulture, shearer.

في حَومَةِ الحَربِ الَّتي لا تَشتَكي

غَمَراتِها الأَبطالُ غَيرَ تَغَمغُمِ

إِذ يَتَّقونَ بِيَ الأَسِنَّةَ لَم أَخِم

عَنها وَلَكِنّي تَضايَقَ مُقدَمي

لَمّا رَأَيتُ القَومَ أَقبَلَ جَمعُهُم

يَتَذامَرونَ كَرَرتُ غَيرَ مُذَمَّمِ

يَدعونَ عَنتَرَ وَالرِماحُ كَأَنَّها

أَشطانُ بِئرٍ في لَبانِ الأَدهَمِ

ما زِلتُ أَرميهِم بِثُغرَةِ نَحرِهِ

وَلَبانِهِ حَتّى تَسَربَلَ بِالدَمِ

فَاِزوَرَّ مِن وَقعِ القَنا بِلَبانِهِ

وَشَكا إِلَيَّ بِعَبرَةٍ وَتَحَمحُمِ

لَو كانَ يَدري ما المُحاوَرَةُ اِشتَكى

وَلَكانَ لَو عَلِمَ الكَلامَ مُكَلِّمي

وَلَقَد شَفى نَفسي وَأَذهَبَ سُقمَها

قيلُ الفَوارِسِ وَيكَ عَنتَرَ أَقدِمِ

وَالخَيلُ تَقتَحِمُ الخَبارَ عَوابِساً

مِن بَينِ شَيظَمَةٍ وَآخَرَ شَيظَمِ

ذُلُلٌ رِكابي حَيثُ شِئتُ مُشايِعي

لُبّي وَأَحفِزُهُ بِأَمرٍ مُبرَمِ

وَلَقَد خَشيتُ بِأَن أَموتَ وَلَم تَدُر

لِلحَربِ دائِرَةٌ عَلى اِبنَي ضَمضَمِ

الشاتِمَي عِرضي وَلَم أَشتِمهُم

وَالناذِرَينِ إِذا لَم اَلقَهُما دَمي

إِن يَفعَلا فَلَقَد تَرَكتُ أَباهُم

جَزَرَ السِباعِ وَكُلِّ نَسرٍ قَشعَمِ