تَلومُ عَلى هِجاءِ بَني كُلَيبٍ

فَيا لَكَ لِلمَلامَةِ مِن نَوارا

You blame me for satirizing the clan of Kulayb,

Yet to blame is so unbecoming of you.

فَقُلتُ لَها أَلَمّا تَعرِفيني

إِذا شَدَّت مُحافَلَتي الإِزارا

I said to her, "Do you not recognize me,

When my waist-wrap is tightened in earnest?"

فَلَو غَيرُ الوَبارِ بَني كُلَيبٍ

هَجَوني ما أَرَدتُ لَهُم حِوارا

Had the nobles of Kulayb satirized me,

I'd not have engaged them in discourse.

وَلَكِنَّ اللِئامَ إِذا هَجَوني

غَضِبتُ فَكانَ نُصرَتِيَ الجِهارا

But when the vile satirize me,

I grow wrathful, and my defense turns vocal.

وَقالَت عِندَ آخِرِ ما نَهَتني

أَتَهجو بِالخَضارِمَةِ الوِبارا

At the end of her reproaches she said,

"Would you satirize the doddering elders?"

أَتَهجو بِالأَقارِعِ وَاِبنِ لَيلى

وَصَعصَعَةَ الَّذي غَمَرَ البِحارا

"Would you satirize the bald and the son of Layla,

And old Sa'sa'ah who roamed the seas?"

وَناجِيَةَ الَّذي كانَت تَميمٌ

تَعيشُ بِحَزمِهِ أَنّى أَشارا

"And Najiyah, whose tent ropes Tameem

Would follow wherever they were pitched?"

بِهِ رَكَزَ الرِماحَ بَنو تَميمٍ

عَشِيَّةَ حَلَّتِ الظُعُنُ النِسارا

With him Tameem's spears were planted

On the eve when the hems were tucked up.

وَأَنتَ تَسوقُ بَهمَ بَني كُلَيبٍ

تُطَرطِبُ قائِماً تُشلي الحُوارا

While you harp on the clan of Kulayb,

Mumbling and stammering incoherently,

فَكَيفَ تَرُدُّ نَفسَكَ يا اِبنَ لَيلى

إِلى ظِربى تَحَفَّرَتِ المَغارا

How can you restrain yourself, O son of Layla,

To a crumbling ruin with hollowed caves?

أَجَعلانَ الرَغامِ بَني كُلَيبٍ

شِرارَ الناسِ أَحساباً وَدارا

Do you reckon the rabble of Kulayb

To be the worst of men in lineage and abode?

فَرافِعهُم فَإِنَّ أَباكَ يَنمى

إِلى العُليا إِذا اِحتَفَروا النِقارا

Nay, lift them up, for your father aspires

To the heights whenever the trenches are dug.

وَإِنَّ أَباكَ أَكرَمُ مِن كُلَيبٍ

إِذا العيدانُ تُعتَصَرُ اِعتِصارا

Your father is nobler than Kulayb

When the staffs are tightly bound together.

إِذا جُعِلَ الرَغامِ أَبو جَريرٍ

تَرَدَّدَ دونَ حُفرَتِهِ فَحارا

When Abu Jarir's kin are reckoned

He lingers shyly by his dugout and recoils,

مِنَ السودِ السَراعِفِ ما يُبالي

أَلَيلاً ما تَلَطَّخَ أَم نَهارا

Caring not whether the black bondsman

Is sullied by night or by day,

لَهُ دُهدِيَّةٌ إِن خافَ شَيئاً

مِنَ الجِعلانِ أَحرَزَها اِحتِفارا

For he has a gift for him should he fear aught

From the slave chains he had covetously buried away."