يا سامر الحيّ هل تعنيك شكوانا
رقّ الحديد و ما رقّوا لبلوانا
O night-companion of the tribe, does our complaint concern you? / The iron has softened, yet they have not softened to our affliction.
Leave reproach as tears that bring no avail, / and admonish the people with torn limbs and fires.
خلّ العتاب دموعا لا غناء بها
و عاتب القوم أشلاء و نيرانا
I believe in the hatred that kindles our resolve, / and may God banish pity and tender affection.
Woe to the nations that do not water from their own blood / their red revenges, harboring malice and grudges.
آمنت بالحقد يذكي من عزائمنا
و أبعد الله إشفاقا و تحنانا
The whip staggered in the right hand of her torturer, / quenched and drunk from her spilled blood.
She closes her eyes to humiliation in forgiveness of her oppressor; / humiliation has grown so elegant that it became forgiveness.
ويل الشعوب التي لم تسق من دمها
ثاراتها الحمر أحقادا و أضغانا
The revenges of Ya'rub lie thirsty in their resting places, / the cupbearers of the tribe have passed them by in forgetfulness.
Is there no blood seeping into its finest wine? / I beg forgiveness of revenge—nay, our fervent zeal has dried up.
ترنّح السوط في يمنى معذّبها
ريّان من دمها المسفوح سكرانا
Neither Khalid of the Conquest invades the Romans in victory, / nor is Al-Muthanna leading the banners of Shayban.
As for the Levant, calamities have left within her / no soul more beloved than grace, nor any sweet basil.
تغضي على الذلّ غفرانا لظالمها
تأنّق الذلّ حتّى صار غفرانا
When the night let down its tresses, there visited / a phantom from the Levant; it greeted us and gave us life.
It bent over us while we were thirsty at its watering places, / filled the cup to the brim with memory, and offered it to us.
ثارات يعرب ظمأى في مراقدها
تجاوزتها سقاة الحيّ نسيانا
Our tears make the roses and sweet basil bloom, / and our secret whispers pour out perfume and wine.
The sweet night-gathering—time has passed it by, / and scattered the reunion of conversers and drinking companions.
ألا دم يتنزّى في سلافتها
أستغفر الثأر بل جفّت حميّانا
From her era, what I thought would never be cheapened was cheapened; / oh, the love of the beloveds in Baghdad—may it never be cheapened.
Whoever sees the daughter of Marwan bent over with fatigue / from the chains, will have pity on the daughter of Marwan.
لا خالد الفتح يغزو الروم منتصرا
و لا المثنّى على رايات شيبانا
I lean over her bleeding wound and wipe it, / as a perfume that sweetens the world, and as faith.
Purer than fragrance, sweet basil, and musk / is what has flowed from the blood of our slain and our wounded.
أمّا الشام فلم تبق الخطوب بها
روحا أحبّ من التعمى و ريحانا
Is there a mother in the Levant, or in Jerusalem, / who does not bemoan bereavement with wailing and crying?
Those graves—even if I were to visit them, / my eyes would no longer be able to count the loved ones and brothers.
ألمّ و اللّيل قد أرخى ذوائبه
طيف من الشام حيّانا فأحيانا
The martyr gives, and by God, my eye has never witnessed / among the people any beneficence quite like his.
The ultimate generosity is to water the earth with his blood / in battle, and to meet God thirsty.
حنا علينا ظماء في مناهلها
فأترع الكأس بالذكرى و عاطانا
Righteousness and the sword share the same nature and lineage; / both face calamity bare and unsheathed.
Sorrow in the soul is a spring; no thirsty part of the soul / passes by it except that it returns fully quenched.
تنضّر الورد و الريحان أدمعنا
و تسكب العطر و الصهباء نجوانا
Goodness in the universe—if you lay bare its essence, / you would see it as burning tears and sorrows.
I heard Paris complaining of her conqueror's arrogance; / would that you remembered, O Paris, our own complaint!
السامر الحلو قد مرّ الزّمان به
فمزّق الشمل سمّارا و ندمانا
When horses were roaming in the sorrowful mosque / over the worshippers, elders and youths alike.
And those who were secure awoke to find palaces in flames, / the fire bringing them down, building after building.
قد هان من عهدها ما كنت أحسبه
هوى الأحبّة في بغداد لا هانا
The tyrannical oppressor hurled it to resound / like a black storm-cloud, roaring and pouring heavy rain.
May I be a ransom for the beautiful, cloistered maiden, terrified / from her slumber by a fate rushing swiftly.
فمن رأى بنت مروان انحنت تعبا
من السلاسل يرحم بنت مروانا
She runs about the palace in haste, weeping, / dragging her perfume on her skirts and sleeves.
She casts a glance, while sleep remains a shadow in her eye sockets, / an eye lulled by dreams, drowsy.
أحنو على جرحها الدامي و أمسحه
عطرا تطيب به الدّنيا و إيمانا
And she sees nothing but scattered ruins, / having collapsed as art, history, and eras.
Those disgraces you have called a victory; / why were our two swords not matched on the day of terror?
أزكى من الطيب ريحانا و غالية
ما سال من دم قتلانا و جرحانا
We face oppression whose blades are drunk and insolent, / while we have no weapon but our innate characters.
If you now burst out crying from aggression, / how often have you inflicted transgression and aggression upon us?
هل في الشام و هل في القدس والدة
لا تشتكي الثكل إعوالا و إرنانا
For twenty years we drank the cup filled to the brim / with harm, so now taste its pure bitterness!
What is the matter with the tyrants in Paris, that they have been transformed / upon their couches into servants and henchmen?
تلك القبور و لو أنّي ألمّ بها
لم تعد عيناي أحبابا و إخوانا
God is Greatest! This entire universe / belongs to God, not to you, in governance and dominion.
A grudge oozes within our ribs; / how well you could have done without it, and how well could we!
يعطي الشّهيد فلا و الله ما شهدت
عيني كإحسانه في القوم إحسانا
Let the suns in the brightness of their risings be a ransom / for the crescent of Sha'ban when it greeted Sha'ban.
The radiant cry echoed through it, and the sands of Mecca / shook, its highlands and its dunes.
و غاية الجود أن يسقي الثرى دمه
عند الكفاح و يلقى الله ظمآنا
Its valley flowed with horses, rebelling / against the bit, desiring the horizon as their battlefield.
And with the battalions of Fihr, masked in armor, / smiling at the sun with Indian swords and pliant spears.
و الحقّ و السّيف من طبع و من نسب
كلاهما يتلقّى الخطب عريانا
The proud conquerors stirred and advanced / toward the swords, in groups and individually.
And the steeds have a neighing in their bits / that the desert almost drinks up as melodies.
و الحزن في النّفس نبع لا يمرّ به
صاد من النّفس إلاّ عاد ريّانا
The foremost ones—they did not loosen their reins, / bearing red deaths as knights.
A book of glory that Time set out to write, / never weary of its open proclamation and deep scrutiny.
و الخير في الكون لو عرّيت جوهره
رأيته أدمعا حرّى و أحزانا
I read in it the proud kings as merely the margins, / and the Hashemites as the royal seal and the title.
Hussein charged at tyranny, plunging in, / and God shook the foundations of tyranny.
سمعت باريس تشكو زهو فاتحها
هلاّ تذكّرت يا باريس شكوانا
The light of prophecy is in the blessedness of his countenance; / the eyelids almost sip it as a criterion of truth.
He wrapped the turban for the grave matters, and I do not see / anything but turbans as crowns in Islam.
و الخيل في المسجد المحزون جائلة
على المصلّين أشياخا و فتيانا
O master of victory in the fierce battle, how did / the victory of battles turn into betrayal during peace?
You see politics as one single color, while / your ally sees in it many shapes and colors.
و الآمنين أفاقوا و القصور لظى
تهوي بها النّار بنيانا فبنيانا
Do not ask the people for embellished oaths, / for we have grown weary of them, both in promise and in oath.
I exalted your glory above a reproach I intended to make; / had I wished, I could have expanded it openly and clearly.
رمى بها الظالم الطاغي مجلجلة
كالعارض الجون تهدارا و تهتانا
Why has the ship not raised its anchors? / Have the fates not prepared a captain for it?
Cleave the storms and the darkness, sailing! / In the name of the Peninsula is our course and our mooring.
أفدي المخدّرة الحسناء روّعها
من الكرى قدر يشتدّ عجلانا
Gather the Arabs, from bedouins and from city-dwellers, / for I glimpse a flood behind the clouds.
O you who boast over us with your battalions, / watch as our squadrons rise over the world.
تدور في القصر عجلي و هي باكية
و تسحب الطيب أذيالا و أردانا
تجيل و النوم ظلّ في محاجرها
طرفا تهدهده الأحلام و سنانا
فلا ترى غير أنقاض مبعثرة
هوين فنا و تاريخا و أزمانا
تلك الفضائح قد سمّيتها ظفرا
هلاّ تكافأ يوم الرّوع سيفانا
نجابه الظلم سكران الظّبى أشرا
و لا سلاح لنا إلا سجايانا
إذا انفجرت من العدوان باكية
لطالما سمتنا بغيا و عدوانا
عشرين عاما شربنا الكأس مترعة
من الأذى فتملّي صرفها الآنا
ما للطواغيت في باريس قد مسخوا
على الأرائك خدّاما و أعوانا
الله أكبر هذا الكون أجمعه
لله لا لك تدبيرا و سلطانا
ضغينة تتنزّى في جوانحنا
ما كان أغناكم عنها و أغنانا
تفدى الشموس بضاح من مشارقها
هلال شعبان إذ حيّا بشعبانا
دوّت به الصرخة الزهراء فانتقضت
رمال مكّة أنجادا و كثبانا
و سال أبطحها بالخيل آبية
على الشكيم تريد الأفق ميدانا
و بالكتائب من فهر مقنّعة
تضاحك الشمس هنديّا و مرّانا
تململ الفاتحون الصيد و ازدلفوا
إلى السيوف زرافات و وحدانا
و للجياد صهيل في شكائمها
تكاد تشربه الصحراء ألحانا
السابقات و ما أرخوا أعنّتها
و الحاملات المنايا الحمر فرسانا
سفر من المجد راح الدهر يكتبه
و لا يضيق به جهرا و أمعانا
قرأت فيه الملوك الصيد حاشية
و الهاشميّين طغراء و عنوانا
شدّ الحسين على الطغيان مقتحما
فزلزل الله للطغيان بنيانا
نور النّبوة في ميمون غرّته
تكاد ترشفه الأجفان فرقانا
لاث العمامة للجلّى و لست أرى
إلاّ العمائم في الإسلام تيجانا
يا صاحب النّصر في الهيجاء كيف غدا
نصر المعارك عند السلم خذلانا
ترى السياسة لونا واحدا و يرى
لها حليفك أشكالا و ألوانا
لا تسأل القوم أيمانا مزوّقة
فقد عيينا بهم عهدا و أيمانا
أكرمت مجدك عن عتب هممت به
لو شئت أوسعته جهرا و تبيانا
ما للسّفينة لم ترفع مراسيها ؟
ألم تهيئ لها الأقدار ربّانا ؟
شقّي العواصف و الظلماء جارية
باسم الجزيرة مجرانا و مرسانا
ضمّي الأعاريب من بدو و من حضر
إنّي لألمح خلف الغيم طوفانا
يا من يدلّ علينا في كتائبه
نظار تطلع على الدنيا سرايانا
