لَمّا تَفَرّى الأُفقُ بِالضِياءِ
مِثلَ اِبتِسامِ الشَفَّةِ اللَمياءِ
When the horizon shone with light
Like the smile of a radiant lip,
وَشَمَطَت ذَوائِبُ الظَلماءِ
وَهَمَّ نَجمُ اللَيلِ بِالإِغفاءِ
And the darkness' tresses were combed,
And the star of night inclined to slumber,
قُدنا لِعَينِ الوَحشِ وَالظِباءِ
داهِيَةً مَحذورَةَ اللِقاءِ
We set out against the eye of the beast and the wolf
Fearsome, dreading the encounter,
شائِلَةً كَالعَقرَبِ السَمراءِ
مُرهَفَةً مُطلَقَةَ الأَحشاءِ
Wounding like the brown scorpion,
Keen, unleashing our innards,
كَمَدَّةٍ مِن قالَمٍ سَواءِ
أَو هُدبَةٍ مِن طَرَفِ الرِداءِ
Like a stroke from an evenly balanced reed pen
Or a fold in the hem of a cloak,
تَحمِلُها أَجنِحَةُ الهَواءِ
تَستَلِبُ الخَطوَ بِلا إِبطاءِ
Borne on the wings of the air,
Snatching strides without delay,
وَمُخطَفاً مُوَثَّقَ الأَعضاءِ
خالَفَها بِجَلدَةٍ بَيضاءِ
And, a prisoner with limbs bound,
It followed us with a white hide
كَأَثَرِ الشِهابِ في السَماءِ
وَيَعرِفُ الزَجرَ مِنَ الدُعاءِ
Like a shooting star's trail in the sky,
And it knows reproach from prayer
بِأُذُنٍ ساقِطَةِ الأَرجاءِ
كَوَردَةِ السَوسَنَةِ الشَهلاءِ
With a drooping ear,
Like a white lily blossom,
ذا بُرثُنٍ كَمِثقَبِ الحِذاءِ
وَمُقلَةٍ قَليلَةِ الأَقذاءِ
With a perforated hoof
And a pupil meager of lashes,
صافِيَةٍ كَقَطرَةٍ مِن ماءِ
تَنسابُ بَينَ أَكَمِ الصَحراءِ
Pure as a raindrop
Flowing between the sand dunes,
مِثلَ اِنسِيابِ حَيَّةٍ رَقطاءِ
آنَسَ بَينَ السَفحِ وَالفَضاءِ
Like the glide of a yellow serpent,
It sensed between the slopes and the open space
سِربَ ظِباءٍ رُتَّعِ الأَطلاءِ
في عازِبٍ مُنَوِّرٍ خَلاءِ
A herd of white-rumped gazelles
In an empty, illuminated valley
أَحوى كَبَطنِ الحَيَّةِ الخَضراءِ
فيهِ كَنَقشِ الحَيَّةِ الرَقشاءِ
With the belly of a green serpent
In it like the scales of a patterned serpent,
كَأَنَّها ضَفائِرُ الشَمطاءِ
يَصطادُ قَبلَ الأَينِ وَالعَناءِ
As if it were the tresses of dusk,
Hunting before strife and toil,
خَمسينَ لا تَنقُصُ في الإِحصاءِ
وَباعَنا اللُحومَ بِالدِماءِ
Fifty, no less in the counting,
And we sold the meats in blood,
يا ناصِرَ اليَأسِ عَلى الرَجاءِ
رَمَيتَ بِالأَرضِ إِلى السَماءِ
O supporter of despair over hope!
You shot the ground into the sky
وَلَم تُصِب شَيئاً إِلى الهَواءِ
فَحَسبُنا مِن كَثرَةِ العَناءِ
And hit nothing into the air,
So we are satisfied with the great toil.
هَناكَ هَذا الرَميُ بِاِبنِ الماءِ
There - that shot with the son of water.
