عَجِبتُ لِحادينا المُقَحِّمِ سَيرُهُ

بِنا مُزحِفاتٍ مِن كِلالٍ وَظُلَّعا

I wondered at our guide urging his camel on,

Bringing her to us slowly through the darkness of night,

لِيُدنينَنا مِمَّن إِلَينا لِقاؤُهُ

حَبيبٌ وَمِن دارٍ أَرَدنا لِتَجمَعا

To bring us close to the one whose meeting with us

Would be a beloved event and from a house to which we aspire to be united,

وَلَو نَعلَمُ العِلمَ الَّذي مِن أَمامِنا

لَكَرَّ بِنا الحادي الرِكابَ فَأَسرَعا

And if we knew the knowledge of what was ahead of us,

The guide would have turned back his riding camel and rode faster,

لَقُلتُ اِرجِعَنها إِنَّ لي مِن وَرائِها

خَذولَي صِوارٍ بَينَ قُفٍّ وَأَجرَعا

I would have said to him, “Turn it back, for beyond it

Lies for me the humiliation of a panting fox between two hills,

مِنَ العوجِ أَعناقاً عِقالٌ أَبوهُما

تَكونانِ لِلعَينَينِ وَالقَلبِ مَقنَعا

With crooked necks, their ropes held by their owners

Who would be veils for my eyes and heart,

نَوارُ لَها يَومانِ يَومٌ غَريرَةٌ

وَيَومٌ كَغَرثى جِروُها قَد تَيَفَّعا

Its young during two days: one day noisy

And the next like muddy torrents that have overflowed,

يَقولونَ زُر حَدراءَ وَالتُربُ دونَها

وَكَيفَ بِشَيءٍ وَصلُهُ قَد تَقَطَّعا

They say, “Visit Hadra and the ground beneath it,”

But how can one reach what is already severed?

وَلَستُ وَإِن عَزَّت عَلَيَّ بِزائِرٍ

تُراباً عَلى مَرسومَةٍ قَد تَضَعضَعا

And I, though it saddens me, am not

One who visits dust upon an effaced inscription,

وَأَهوَنُ مَفقودٍ إِذا المَوتُ نالَهُ

عَلى المَرءِ مِن أَصحابِهِ مَن تَقَنَّعا

And less painful than something lost when death takes it

Is to a man his friends who have masked themselves.

يَقولُ اِبنُ خِنزيرٍ بَكَيتَ وَلَم تَكُن

عَلى اِمرَأَةٍ عَيني إِخالُ لِتَدمَعا

The son of Khinzīr says, “You cried and your eyes

Were not juicy for crying over a woman.”

وَأَهوَنُ رُزءٍ لِاِمرِئٍ غَيرِ عاجِزٍ

رَزِيَّةُ مُرتَجِّ الرَوادِفِ أَفرَعا

And less petty to a man who is not weak

Is the mockery of the mocking backbiters,

وَما ماتَ عِندَ اِبنِ المَراغَةِ مِثلُها

وَلا تَبِعَتهُ ظاعِناً حَيثُ دَعدَعا

And none has died in the land of Ibn Māragha like her,

Nor followed him, wandering wherever he wandered.