وَمَا عَودٌ تضَّمنَ بَطنُ عِرضٍ
يَمانِى الشَّوقِ مُضطمِرٌ غَلِيلا
No old camel whom the heart of ʿArḍ enfolded—
Yemeni in his yearning, his inner thirst aflame—
يَحِنُّ إِذَا الرَّكائِبُ باكرتهُ
ضُحَيًّا أَو هَبَبنَ لهُ أَصِيلا
moaning when the caravan-camels come early upon him,
in the forenoon, or stir before him toward evening;
بِوادٍ لاَ يُفارقُ عُدوَتَيهِ
أَسنَّ بهِ وكانَ بهِ فَصِيلا
in a valley whose two banks he never left,
where he grew old, and where he had been a weanling;
فَبُدِّلَ مَشرَباً مِن ذَاكَ مِلحاً
وَظِمأً بَعدَ قصرَتِهِ طويلا
then had his watering places changed from those waters to brine,
and, after his cool refreshment, to a long thirst;
وَبُدِّلَ حَرَّةً وَجَمَادض أَرضٍ
يُمارِسُ في حَرَارَتِهَا الكُبولا
and his two lava fields and Jamāḍ exchanged for a land
where, amid its heat, he grapples with fetters—
بِأَنكرَ لَوعَةً مِنّى وَوَجداً
عَلَى إِضمارِىَ الهَجرَ الطَّوِيلا
is more grievously anguished or impassioned than I,
though I harbor the long estrangement within.
Sol 5.6