فَإِنّي كَما قالَت نَوارُ إِنِ اِجتَلَت
عَلى رَجُلٍ ما سَدَّ كَفَّي خَليلُها
As Nawar said, if she inclines
Toward a man whose friend shuts not his palms from her
وَإِن لَم تَكُن لي في الَّذي قُلتُ مِرَّةٌ
فَدُلّيتُ في غَبراءَ يَنهالُ جولُها
And if I spoke not truth that one time
Then I was led into a dusty road where its mirages flow
فَما أَنا بِالنائي فَتُنفى قَرابَتي
وَلا باطِلٌ حَقّي الَّذي لا أُقيلُها
So I’m no outcast to deny my kinship
Nor void my right which I don’t forgo
وَلَكِنَّني المَولى الَّذي لَيسَ دونَهُ
وَلِيٌّ وَمَولى عُقدَةٌ مَن يُجيلُها
Rather I’m the Master with none above Him
Protector and Master, a knot none can untie
فَدونَكَها يا اِبنَ الزُبَيرِ فَإِنَّها
مُوَلَّعَةٌ يوهي الحِجارَةَ قيلُها
So leave her be, O son of Zubayr
For she is infatuated, hurling stones aimlessly
إِذا قَعَدَت عِندَ الإِمامِ كَأَنَّما
تَرى رِفقَةً مِن ساعَةٍ تَستَحيلُها
When she sits by the Imam it's as though
She sees a group in an hour transformed
وَما خاصَمَ الأَقوامَ مِن ذي خُصومَةٍ
كَوَرهاءَ مَشنوءٌ إِلَيها حَليلُها
None disputed people with grievance
Like a love-sick camel yearning towards her
فَإِنَّ أَبا بَكرٍ إِمامَكِ عالِمٌ
بِتَأويلِ ما وَصّى العِبادَ رَسولُها
Indeed, your Imam Abu Bakr is a scholar
In interpreting what the Messenger enjoined on His servants
وَظَلماءَ مِن جَرّا نَوارٍ سَرَيتُها
وَهاجِرَةٍ دَوِّيَّةٍ ما أُقيلُها
And I sheltered her darkness from Anwar's radiance
And Hajira's, never did I let it go
جَعَلنا عَلَيها دونَها مِن ثِيابِنا
تَظاليلَ حَتّى زالَ عَنها أَصيلُها
Making our garments into shades over her
Until her roots were rid of their origins
تَرى مِن تَلَظّيها الظِباءَ كَأَنَّها
مُوَقَّفَةٌ تَغشى القُرونَ وُعولُها
You see her darkness so intense as if
She is halted, covering generations and their howls
نَصَبتُ لَها وَجهي وَحَرفاً كَأَنَّها
أَتانُ فَلاةٍ خَفَّ عَنها ثَميلُها
I set my face toward her, words that seem
As if she is a camel of the desert whose guide disappeared from her
إِذا عَسَفَت أَنفاسُها في تَنوفَةٍ
تَقَطَّعَ دونَ المُحصَناتِ سَحيلُها
When her breaths grow disorderly in her craze
Her forelocks fall short of the chaste women’s trails
تُرى مِثلَ أَنضاءِ السُيوفِ مِنَ السُرى
جَراشِعَةَ الأَجوازِ يَنجو رَعيلُها
You see her as the blades of swords from scabbards
Removing veils, her progeny barely survives
