قِف بِالمَنازِلِ إِن شَجَتكَ رُبوعُها
فَلَعَلَّ عَينَكَ تَستَهِلُّ دُموعُها
Stop awhile at the abodes - should their wastes sadden you -
Haply your eyes may shed the drops of tears.
وَاِسأَل عَنِ الأَظعانِ أَينَ سَرَت بِها
آباؤُها وَمَتى يَكونُ رُجوعُها
Ask of their news - whither their lords have sped
And when they shall return - there was a home
دارٌ لِعَبلَةَ شَطَّ عَنكَ مَزارُها
وَنَأَت فَفارَقَ مُقلَتَيكَ هُجوعُها
For Ubil at a coast turned away from your course -
She went in haste, so her retreating figure diminished from your sight,
فَسَقَتكِ يا أَرضَ الشَرَبَّةِ مُزنَةٌ
مُنهَلَّةٌ يَروي ثَراكِ هُموعُها
Then, O land, lush and soft, she watered you, flooding,
With tears that poured from her, freely flowing.
وَكَسا الرَبيعُ رُباكِ مِن أَزهارِهِ
حُلَلاً إِذا ما الأَرضُ فاحَ رَبيعُها
When, in the spring the meadows were mantled by its flowers' robes,
The land glowed when spring decked it with finery.
كَم لَيلَةٍ عانَقتُ فيها غادَةً
يَحيا بِها عِندَ المَنامِ ضَجيعُها
How many a dear night I spent with a fair one, lithe of form,
Sheltering one who revived, when night fell, her languishing lover nigh.
شَمسٌ إِذا طَلَعَت سَجَدتُ جَلالَةً
لِجَمالِها وَجَلا الظَلامَ طُلوعُها
A sun, whose rising I greet on bended knee
In awe before its glory, dissipating the shadows of night by its rising light.
يا عَبلَ لا تَخشَي عَلَيَّ مِنَ العِدا
يَوماً إِذا اِجتَمَعَت عَلَيَّ جُموعُها
O Ubil, fear not for me the foe, what day
Their hordes attack me, with chaos and confusion.
إِنَّ المَنِيَّةَ يا عُبَيلَةُ دَوحَةٌ
وَأَنا وَرُمحي أَصلُها وَفُروعُها
For death, O Ubaylah, is loss and cross,
While I and my spear are its root and trunk.
وَغَداً يَمُرُّ عَلى الأَعاجِمِ مِن يَدي
كَأسٌ أَمَرُّ مِنَ السُمومِ نَقيعُها
On the morrow I pass by the foreigners' abodes
With a cup more bitter to drink than poison deadly in its effect,
وَأُذيقُها طَعناً تَذِلُّ لِوَقعِهِ
ساداتُها وَيَشيبُ مِنهُ رَضيعُها
Smiting them a blow to abase their lords, at which falls
Grey-haired and suckling alike, with no distinction between dignitary and commoner.
وَإِذا جُيوشُ الكِسرَوِيِّ تَبادَرَت
نَحوي وَأَبدَت ما تُكِنُّ ضُلوعُها
When Cyrus's armoured companies swarmed against me,
Revealing feelings hidden deep within their breasts,
قاتَلتُها حَتّى تَمَلَّ وَيَشتَكي
كُرَبَ الغُبارِ رَفيعُها وَوَضيعُها
I battled them until I was wearied, and they complained
Of the choking clouds of dust, raised by paupers and princes.
فَيَكونُ لِلأُسدِ الضَواري لَحمُها
وَلِمَن صَحِبنا خَيلُها وَدُروعُها
Then to our lions was their meat,
Their steeds and mail became the booty for us, their slayers.
يا عَبلَ لَو أَنَّ المَنِيَّةَ صُوِّرَت
لَغَدا إِلَيَّ سُجودُها وَرُكوعُها
O Ubil, would that death had been depicted,
It would have prostrated itself before me, bowing in worship.
وَسَطَت بِسَيفي في النُفوسِ مُبيدَةً
مَن لا يُجيبُ مَقالَها وَيُطيعُها
I had smitten amongst souls with my sword, destroying,
Whomsoever answered not its speech or disobeyed its commands.
