Sol 5.6

  1. I have set my praise upon ʿUthmān, for I—

    whenever I offer praise—aim deliberately at the noblest.

  2. And ʿUthmān, son of ʿAnbasa, son of Ṣakhr—

    in him the nobility of lineage reaches its height.

  3. For your spear has stirred within Quraysh

    the roots of glory and flourishing noble descent.

  4. From them you inherited the Disciples’ guidance,

    the might of al-ʿAnbasī and Dhū al-Khimār.

  5. You surpass all men in noble merit whenever

    you glory in your distinction—and who can match you in glory?

  6. A father and maternal uncle raised your stock to eminence;

    both your fire-sticks blaze in al-Baṭḥāʾ.

  7. And when you rule, you are trustworthy and just,

    more lucid in speech than any man of Nizār;

  8. more truthful than a secluded maiden in her modesty,

    and bolder than a fierce sire of two lion cubs.

  9. Whenever you alight with ʿUthmān, you alight

    with a mighty lord of pavilion and camel-train,

  10. a lavish host who encamps upon the hilltops,

    whose fire lights the way for every night traveler.

  11. The common multitude does not esteem my worth as you do,

    nor is any fire’s light like the light of yours.

  12. When Umayya is asked who its finest young man is,

    and who defends inviolable right and honor,

  13. they say, “The son of ʿAnbasa, son of Ṣakhr”;

    of that there is no doubt—do not dispute it.

  14. He gained from it the sum of every virtue,

    while every failing and disgrace ran dry.

  15. So, ʿUthmān, my homeland is far away,

    yet away from you my soul can find no rest.

  16. And if you mean my hand to remain empty,

    I have no way back to my family and home.

  17. I know that, if you shelter me from my governor,

    the bonds of your safe-conduct and protection are firm.

  18. Then, O son of al-ʿAnbās, will it profit me—

    this visit to you, despite the distant destination;

  19. my soul’s hurling me headlong into mortal perils;

    the hard driving of pale camels through barren lands,

  20. clothed in dust-clouds in every mountain pass,

    their upright forms like shafts whittled by a fletcher?

  21. Travel has worn down their withers till they are bent-backed—

    my late-day setting forth through the fierce midday heats, and my early starts;

  22. my steering by the stars toward you, until

    night split open to reveal the brightness of day?

  23. I seek refuge from punishment, O son of Ḥarb,

    by the knot where you fastened your waistcloth.

Sol 5.6