طرقتنا بالزابيين الرباب — Bashar Ibn Burd

Rabab visited us by night at the two Zabs.

Many a visit leaves you grieving.

And I said to Ibn Juhma, when I spent

the night yearning, while my companions slept, heedless of me:

Sing to me of Rabab, if you sing;

my sleep has fled, and wine has gone mad within me.

A maiden withheld sleep from me;

her home is al-Khabt, the hills, and the domed tents.

Approaching, retreating, near and far,

it shows itself to us, yet remains veiled.

Like a desert mirage that the eye beholds,

yet when you approach it, the mirage vanishes.

Or like the full moon in the sky, not near,

when it rises high, though its light suggests nearness.

To seek Rabab, with a sword barring the way,

is folly; her apparition is torment.

Had she stayed, I would have been at peace; but

she departed, and her departure is misery for me.

The blue-eyed, jealous one drove her to al-Sham;

so Dhat al-Ashya lies desolate without her.

Grief for her has grown sweet within my breast,

and so has my waiting: will the beloved return?

And a friend's phantom clinging to me—

one I shall not see until the raven turns gray.

O son of Musa, pour me a drink, and leave Bakr aside.

Bakr is free of love's affliction, while I am stricken.

I do not see my companion where the maidens dwell,

and Rabab's journey is awaited.

On the day one yearned for me, her tears streaming,

while Rabab yearned for another.

Do not reproach me for her, Yazid ibn Zayd;

honor my affection for you; this reply is offered.

In meeting Rabab lies a cure for longing

for her face—but where is Rabab?

I went about in love with her, while she went circling

among her peers, with a veil upon her.

In green gardens and a lofty palace,

Caesar-like, encircled by grapevines.

Above her is the doves' playground, and rushing

before her is a clamorous canal.

Distant is what cannot be reached; in love

there is hardship, and separation lasts for ages.

Would that I knew about Rabab, now far

away in her dwelling: will she draw near?

She came to be among Banu al-Shumus, and I became

a stranger, beset by surges of longing.

And a watered meadow, like an Abqari carpet—when

its whistling bird trills, the flies sing—

remote, ringed with buds, nourished

by the stars of heaven as they take their turns,

abounding in sweet herbs, bowing down to the sun

openly, unashamed—

I spent the night as a guest there, with the white gazelle and the tawny

gazelle, and the lovely, leisurely, budding-breasted maiden.

That was my life there; into terror I was carried

by a dark bay, tall, lean, and harsh-voiced.

His forebears were of A'waj's stock; his lineage joined

Lahiq, al-Wajih, and then al-Ghurab.

Diligent care and pure breeding preserved him;

he has docility within him, and fire.

High of poll, steadied by being led,

his heart fired by the shouting.

His hide is unblemished, like a bracelet,

red—a noble steed whose flanks adorn him.

And a projection from the clustered parts at his withers,

and an upright rise in his croup.

Brisk, hoarse-voiced, like a wild bull going forth at dawn;

the hooks have steadied his heart.

His heart, ears, and gaze are intent

on what may be feared or may not be feared.

And when he runs to overtake something

that has eluded him, and ceaseless urging drives him,

I say: a wind moaning between pillars,

or a reed pipe through which the piper sings.

Upon him I seek high honors—or Rawh—

indeed, rather Rawh, and I have no doubt.

The demon of rhymes stole my sleep, bound for Rawh

in praise, as purebred Arabian steeds are led.

And I said, when care took hold of me

and doors were barred against me:

Base men have no bounty, but

with Rawh there is a reward for praise.

Where is Rawh, away from me? For Rawh has

breezes of bounty that enrich those who visit.

A king among the kings of Qahtan; there flow

from his hands to us lavish gifts.

With him are forbearance, courage, and generosity,

firmly joined, with no deceit in him.

Upon his radiant face lies welcome,

as though kindness were a book written upon it.

The two cast him forth, Rawh—and who is like Rawh—

when the soil dried and clouds grew scarce?

A soul set him upon the summits of noble deeds,

a noble one, whose description calls for lengthy speech.

And when great deeds are counted, enough for him are

Hatim and al-Muhallab, the great giver.

He has, from Qabisa's generosity, a sea,

Hadrami, with billows at both its shores.

The villages praised him, and the neighbor rejoiced

in him, while loved ones lived upon his bounty.

Say to Rawh ibn Hatim ibn Qabis: Glory

is ours, while self-admiration is yours.

How has no honor come to me from you,

after affection, when you are the lords?

Live praised and prosper, Abu Khalaf; you

are the people's noble youth, with no fault in you.

You have spared al-Mahdi a care, and harried

an enemy—thus you are the warrior, the relentless challenger.

And upon Warzan you hurled the deaths,

and the deaths came in flocks through their dwellings.

And among the people is a man of means, with a promise

like the devil's mucus, full of wavering.

The nearest one, facing us in the clan, asserted,

repeating it, and the genealogists assert,

that Rawh ibn Hatim has come to the sea,

and now seekers come to him repeatedly.

That is Dawud: never have you entrusted him with a need

without its being fulfilled; the flies feared him.

And the choicest of the fierce Muhallabids,

rising toward the heights; such is the choicest stock.

The generous lord is made to envy him

by virtues that leave young men wandering short of their reach.

And wherever Dawud settles in a land,

its herbs grow sweet, and its soil grows sweet.

Watch expectantly, Abu Misma'; Dawud will shield you—

ibn Rawh ibn Hatim—from all you fear.

O son of Rawh, you resemble Rawh; whoever resembles

his father has his lineage made complete.