إِذا اِعتَرَكَت في راحَتَي كُلِّ مُجمِدٍ
مُسَوَّمَةً لا رِزقَ إِلّا خِصالُها
When it is weighed down in my palm, it adorns every frozen one,
Allotted to no sustenance but its attributes,
مَرَينا لَهُم بِالقَضبِ مِن قَمَعِ الذُرى
إِذا الشَولُ لَم تُرزِم لِدَرٍّ فِصالُها
We thrust them with reeds from the gourd of millet,
When the water skin does not tie up the flowing of its neck.
بَقَرنا عَنِ الأَفلاذِ بِالسَيفِ بَطنَها
وَبِالساقِ مِن دونِ القِيامِ خِبالُها
We split open the bellies with the sword, from the young ones,
And the legs away from standing, their running.
عَجِلنا عَنِ الغَليِ القِرى مِن سَنامِها
لِأَضيافِنا وَالنابُ وَردٌ عِقالُها
We hurried away from anger the villages from its lair,
For our guests, while the camel stallion, the tying of its noseband.
لَهُم أَو تَموتَ الريحُ وَهيَ ذَميمَةٌ
إِذا اِعتَزَّ أَرواحَ الشِتاءِ شَمالُها
For them or the wind dies while it is stinky,
When the souls of winter boast of its north wind.
وَصارِخَةٍ يَسعى بَنوها وَراءَها
عَلى ظَهرِ عُريٍ زَلَّ عَنهُ جِلالُها
And a screaming she-camel runs with her young behind her,
On the back of a mare whose majesty has slipped from her.
تُلَوّي بِكَفَّيها عَناصِيَ ذِروَةٍ
وَقَد لَحِقَت خَيلٌ تَثوبُ رِعالُها
She twists with her palms the tips of a summit,
While horses which pant heavily have caught up with her.
مُقاتِلَةٌ في الحَيِّ مِن أَكرَميهِمُ
أَبوها هُوَ اِبنُ العَمِّ لَحّاً وَخالُها
A fighter in the valley of her noble tribe,
Her father is the paternal uncle, smooth-faced and her maternal uncle.
إِذا اِلتَفَتَت سَدَّ السَماءَ وَرائَها
عَبيطٌ وَجُمهورٌ تَعادى فِحالُها
When she turns her back, she closes off the sky behind her,
A gallant company and a group mutual in their condition.
أَناخَت بِها وَسطَ البُيوتِ نِساؤُنا
وَقَد أُعجِلَت شَدَّ الرِحالِ اِكتِفالُها
They halted with her amidst our houses,
While the saddling with provisions has been hastened.
أَنَخنا فَأَقبَلنا الرِماحَ وَراءَها
رِماحاً تُساقي بِالمَنايا نِهالُها
We saddled up and thrust the spears behind her,
Spears that rival deaths with their points.
بَنو دارِمٍ قَومي تَرى حُجُزاتِهِم
عِتاقاً حَواشيها رِقاقاً نِعالُها
The clan of Darim, my people, you see their defenses,
Slaves their margins, commoners their slippers.
يَجُرّونَ هُدّابَ اليَماني كَأَنَّهُم
سُيوفٌ جَلا الأَطباعَ عَنها صِقالُها
They drag the music maker of Yemen as though they are
Swords which time has stripped of their scabbards.
وَشيمَت بِهِ عَنكُم سُيوفٌ عَلَيكُمُ
صَباحَ مَساءَ بِالعِراقِ اِستِلالُها
And they were driven away from you by swords against you,
Morning and evening with domination in Iraq their rising.
وَإِذ أَنتُمُ مَن لَم يَقُل أَنا كافِرٌ
تَرَدّى نَهاراً عَثرَةً لا يُقالُها
And while you are those who have not said I am an infidel,
Headlong it plummets everyday, unstoppable its stumbling.
وَفارَقَ أُمَّ الرَأسِ مِنهُ بِضَربَةٍ
سَريعٍ لِبَينِ المَنكَبَينِ زِيالُها
And the head parts from it with a swift strike,
Between the two shoulders, hasty its tilting.
