تَقولُ اِبنَتي إِذ فاخَرَتها غَريبَةٌ

مُؤَزَّرَةٌ بِالوَبرِ في شَوذَرٍ قَدَد

My daughter says, when a stranger woman boasted against her:

“My rival, girded in haircloth, in a garment of tattered strips,

لَها والِدٌ راعٍ إِذا راحَ عِندَها

بِأَشوِيَةٍ مِن قَلبِ ضَبٍّ وَمِن كَبِد

whose father is a shepherd; when he comes home to her,

he brings roasted morsels from a lizard’s heart and liver.

أَبي نَجلُ أَملاكٍ وَزَورُ خَليفَةٍ

يَلينُ لَهُ بابُ الهُمامِ إِذا وَفَد

My father is the scion of kings and the visitor of a caliph;

the great man’s gate grows yielding to him when he arrives.

طَلوبٌ للِأَيسارِ المُلوكِ إِذا غَدا

وَأَكرَمُ أَيسارِ المُلوكِ مِنَ الصَفَد

When he goes forth, he pursues the kings’ blood-claims,

and in bestowing gifts is the most generous of the kings’ open-handed men.

وَأَنتِ لَقاةٌ بَينَ خَلفٍ وَأَكلُبٍ

مَتاعٌ لِمَن جازَ السَبيلَ وَمَن قَصَد

But you are a waif among Khalaf and Aklub,

mere chattel for whoever passes along the road or seeks you out.

وَإِنَّكِ مِن قَومٍ عَلَيهِم غَضاضَةٌ

تَرى غِيَراً بِالنَفسِ مِن عَيشِها النَكِد

You belong to a people upon whom disgrace lies;

their wretched life has wrought changes in the soul,

مُعاوِدَةٌ حَملَ الهَشيمِ بِكَفِّها

عَلى كاهِلٍ قَد كادَ يَأوَدُ أَو أَوِد

repeatedly taking up a load of dry brushwood in her hand,

upon a shoulder that has nearly buckled—or has buckled.

لَشَتّانَ ما بَيني وَبَينَكِ في التُقى

وَفي الحَسَبِ الزاكي وَفي العَيشِ وَالحَفَد

How vast the distance between you and me in piety,

in pure lineage, in livelihood, and in attendants!

سَبَقتُكِ فَاِرضَي بِالصَغارِ فَإِنَّما

رُزِقتِ وَلَيسَ الرِزقُ كَالسابِقِ السَنَد

I have outstripped you—be content with abasement: you were merely

granted provision, and provision is not like precedence backed by lineage.”