يَا سَيْفَ آخِرِ مَالِكٍ فِي دَولَةٍ
الفخرُ كُلُّ الفَخْرِ في آثارِهَا
O sword of the last sovereign in his realm,
glory—all glory—lives in that realm’s legacy.
لَيْتَ الفَنَاءَ عَدَا عَلَيْكَ مُغَيِّبًا
ذِكْرَى تَلَطُّخِ صَفْحَتَيْكَ بِعَارِهَا
If only annihilation had overtaken you, effacing
the memory of your two faces stained with its disgrace.
أَوْلَى بِأَرْبَابِ الظُّبَى تَحْطِيمُهَا
أَوْ مَوْتُهُمْ بِالعِزِّ تَحْتَ شفَارِهَا
Fitter for the lords of blades to shatter them,
or die with honor beneath their edges,
مِنْ طَرْحِهَا بِيَدِ العَدُوِّ بِذِلَّةٍ
يَسْتَنْكِفُ الحُفَدَاءُ مِنْ تَذْكَارِهَا
than cast them into the enemy’s hand in an abasement
whose very memory makes their descendants recoil.
Sol 5.6