أين منّي عَتْبُ أحبابٍ هجودْ

قَتَلُوا نومي بإِحياءِ الصُّدودْ

Where is the reproach of friends whose hearts have turned to stone?

They killed my sleep by reviving estrangement.

وخِلِّي لم تَبِتْ أحْشاؤُهُ

آه من وصلٍ عَنِ القُربِ يَذود

My innermost being did not spend the night in tranquility.

Alas for a union that avoids intimacy and draws apart!

وخَلِّي لمْ تَبِتْ أحْشاؤهُ

وهيَ بِالتبريحِ لِلنارِ وَقود

My innermost being did not spend the night in tranquility,

While it is fuel for the fire through separation.

قَالَ كَم تَظما مِنَ الظَّلْمِ إلى

مَوْرِدٍ لم تَرْوَ منهُ بِوُرود

He said, "How long will you continue to suffer injustice,

Until you arrive at a meadow where you see no flowers blooming?"

شِيبَ بِالمِسكِ وَبِالشهدِ معاً

وَالمَساويكُ على ذاكَ شُهود

My hair turned white and black at the same time,

And witnesses attest to that.

أَو تُرجِّي نَيلَ صادٍ لِلَّمى

قلتُ لولا الماءُ ما أوْرَقَ عود

Or do you hope to attain the wishes of the afflicted one?

I said, "Without water, wood would not leaf out."

قَالَ إِنَّ البيضَ لا تَحظى بِها

أو تَرى بِيضَ ذؤاباتِكَ سُود

He said, "You will not win white chickens;

Or do you see your speckled hens as black?"

قُلتُ عِندي يومَ أَصطادُ المُنى

جَذَعٌ يُحْكِمُ تأنيسَ الشَّرُود

I said, "On the day I hunt wishes,

I have a body that perfectly masters the taming of the wild beasts."

كم مُليمٍ قد نَضَا ثَوْبَ الصّبا

عنه رَدّتْهُ إلى الصّبْوَةِ رُوْد

How often has the roughness of youth worn out his garment,

Only to have the down of adolescence return it to softness!

بحديثٍ يُسْحَرُ السحر به

يَتمنَّاه مُعَاداً أن يَعود

With a tale that enchants enchantment itself,

Which, were it repeated, he would wish to come back,

تُنْزَلُ الطيرُ من الجوِّ به

وتُحَطّ العُصْمُ من شُمّ الرُّيُود

At which the birds alight from the air,

And the wild cows' halters slip from the herdsmen.

وَسَبَتْهُ قُضُبٌ في كُثُبٍ

مالتِ الأكفالُ منها بالقُدود

Juveniles courted him in the bosom of the wind that growled

To the companions between tent walls and loom weights.

وثمارٌ نَطَقَتْ أوصافها

بإِشاراتٍ إِلى صُغرِ النُهود

In darkness whose edges enfolded them

Above a land of plateaus and sand dunes,

عَدِّ بي عن كلّ هذا إنّني

لا أرى الدهر لإِحساني كَنُود

Where it was as though the moon were an angel among them

With the stars thronging around it like flowers.

لي هوىً آوي إليه مرحاً

غَيرَ أَنِّي بِالنهى عَنهُ حَيود

As though meteors had bound

Their hands to the Pleiades with chains.

إِنَّ هَمِّي هِمَّةٌ أَسمَرها

ولها قُمْتُ فما لي والقُعود

Truly, I said to the cheek of our Iesa,

While she is stingy toward stinginess in her generosity:

وفَلاةٍ أَبَداً ظامِئَةٍ

مُشْفِقٌ من قَطعِها العَوْدُ عَنود

"Do openings that rend holes come to you from me,

Or have you gotten them from chewing your liver?

حَمَل الماءَ ولا يَشْرَبُهُ

فهو للمُرْوَى به عينُ الحَسُود

So when will the darkness lift from her eyes

The pillar of night at the gleam of dawn?

جُبْتُهَا في مَتنِ ريحٍ تَنبَري

للسُّرَى بين سَيُوعٍ وَقتود

When I see what had blackened of the gloom of night

Melted away at the flames of the sun."

في ظلامٍ طَنّبَتْ أكنافُهُ

فوق أرجاءِ وهادٍ وَنُجود

Revealing the ugly discoloration of an eye whose eyelash

Had been bent by the beauty of a radiant full moon.

وكَأَنَّ البدرَ فيهِ ملكٌ

والنجومُ الزُّهرُ حَولَيه وُفود

More charming, if the eye of the sublime one grows hot,

Its kohl smudged by its glare with coolness.

وكأنّ الشُّهبَ شُهْبٌ قَيّدَتْ

أَيدِياً منها على الجريِ قُيود

In the portico of royalty, he is a king

Whose reign dates from ancient ʿĀd and Thamūd.

ولَقَد قُلتُ لحادي عيسِنا

وهيَ بِالبُخلِ عَنِ البُخلِ تَجود

He stretched out his palm with streaming generosity,

But the tight‐fisted withdrew their palms from giving.

أنَجَاءٌ تَخرِقُ الخَرْقَ به

كَابَدَتهُ مِنكِ أَم مَضغُ الكبود

How many paths lead to him well‐traveled,

Yet to hunters they are like a mother to her child!

فمتى يَفْلُقُ عن أبصارها

هامَةَ اللَّيل منَ الصبحِ عَمود

Possessing praiseworthy morals created

For valor, and peace from evil and perfection.

وأَرى ما اسوَدَّ من قارِ الدُّجى

ذابَ مِنهُ بِلَظى الشَّمسِ جُمُود

And clemency established in a nature

Like the flowers in a well‐watered meadow.

جالياً أقذاءَ عينٍ مَقَلَتْ

من محيّا حَسَنٍ بَدْرَ السعود

With honor protected, kindness given lavishly,

Steeped in the noble manners of his ancestors.

أروعٌ إن سَخُنَتْ عَيْنُ العلى

كَحَلَتْها مِنْ سَناهُ بِبُرود

Firm in noble deeds, so how could night refuse

The dawn its favor?

في رُوَاقِ المُلْكِ منه مَلِكٌ

مُلْكُهُ من قبلِ عادٍ وثَمود

Going forward, hunting the heroes of turmoil—

For the lion cub is a terrifying creature to the wild beasts.

بَسَطَ الكفّ بجودٍ غَدَقٍ

قُبِضَتْ عَن بَذلِهِ كَفّ الصَّلُود

Possessing skillful stratagems in still dignity

Like tinder for the burning coal's dormant fire.

كَم سَبيلٍ نَحوَهُ مسلوكةٍ

فهي للقُصّاد كالأمِّ الوَلود

His right hand has grown accustomed to the lions' beneficence,

And beneficence makes prosperous his right hand when he rules.

ذُو سَجايا في المَعالي خُلِقَتْ

لِلوَغى والسلمِ من بَأسٍ وَجُود

How many lawless nomads in the land emigrated from it,

With his hands exacting dues and tribute from them!

وأناةٍ أُرْسِيَتْ في خُلُقٍ

كَنَظيرِ الزَّهرِ في الرّوضِ المَجُود

Of kings whom their eulogists have strung together

In the poor rhymes of poems like necklaces.

وَمَصونُ العرضِ مَبذولُ الندى

مُعْرِقُ الآباء في مَحْضِ الجُدود

In houses built only so the man

Might live forever in their praise.

ثابِتٌ عِندَ المَعالي فَضلُهُ

هل يُطيقُ اللَّيلُ للصُّبح جُحود

Every steady and wise ruler carrying his realm,

Just in conduct and faithful to his pacts.

مُقْدِمٌ يصطادُ أبطالَ الوغى

إنَّ شِبلَ اللَّيثِ للوَحشِ صَيُود

A lion—though one might think his agent

A snarling wolf tearing bodies to pieces.

ذو ابتدارٍ في وقارٍ كامنٍ

لِلَظَى الزّنْدِ وقودٌ من خُمود

They were brought up amid plenty from their resolve

For noble deeds in breasts and souls.

ألِفَتْ يمناهُ إسداءَ الغنى

والغنى تُسديه يُمنَى مَن يَسود

A house of glory whose reputation

Exceeded the four directions' every limit.

كم عُفَاةٍ في بلادٍ نَزَحَتْ

فَسَبَتْ مِنهُم أَياديهِ وُفُود

It hurls armies with curled hair like stirring seas

At the battle, with spears bared and soldiers intrepid.

من ملوكٍ نَظَمَتْ مُدّاحُهُمْ

فِقَرَ المَدحِ لَهُم نَظْمَ العُقود

Whose iron flanks the blood's cascade has washed

From the stab wounds of lances piercing coats of mail.

في بُيوتٍ بُنِيَتْ شِعْرِيّةٍ

لِثَناءِ المَرءِ فيهِنَّ خُلود

With eagles that fill their entrails

On the corpses of Banū Hājiz like feasts laid out.

كُلُّ راسي الحلم حامٍ مُلْكَهُ

عادلِ السيرةِ وافٍ بالعُهود

Crawling like the sea swelling with the rising wind

Amid the bitterness of death in the giants' shadow.

أَسدٍ تَحسبُ في عامِلِه

أَسْوَداً يَنهَشُ أَعضاءَ الحُقود

Its surge like the massing clouds, wrapping

Lightning bolts and rumbling thunderclaps.

نَشَؤوا في مَنعةٍ مِن عَزمِهم

لِلمَعالي في حُجورٍ وَبُنود

And when its swords kneel

Over the skulls of the foe, they bow down kneeling.

بيتُ مجدٍ جاوزت أرْبَعُهُ

أرْبُعَ الشُّهْبِ حُدوداً بِحُدود

For death, it has tongues

That scarcely rest within the mouths of despondent cowards.

يَقذِفُ الحربَ بِجَيشٍ لَجِبٍ

مُشْرَعِ الأَرماحِ مِقدامِ الجُنود

Every angry man believes the onlooker sees in

Its midst flames with water as the fuel.

ذي موازيب حديدٍ فَهَقَتْ

بِصَبيبِ الدَّم من طَعنِ الكُبود

And attributes of white blended with red in it,

For the blood that dyes the coats of mail black.

ونُسورٍ تَغتَدي أَحشاؤُها

مِن بَني الهَيجاءِ لِلقَتلى لُحود

Where the trace upon them seems an embroidered pattern

Nearly obscured by the deep blackness of their tint.

زَاحِفٌ كَالبَحر مَدّاً بِالصبا

بِحَرورِ الموتِ في ظلِّ البُنود

As though slaughter in them lives forever,

Instilling vitality in the enemies it lays low.

نَقْعُهُ كالغيمِ ملتفّاً عَلى

صَعِقَاتٍ من بُروقٍ ورُعود

Grant us, O son of ʿAlī, a king

In glory, soaring high and climbing upward!

وَإِذا ما رَكَعتْ أَسيافُهُ

فَوقَ هاماتِ العِدى خَرَّتْ سُجود

And draw us near to you by kissing the earth,

Each honored chieftain, though his cheek be blackened!

لِلمَنايا عِندَهُ أَلْسِنَةٌ

قَلَّما تَعْمُرُ أفْواهَ الغُمود

كلّ عَضبٍ يحسبُ الناظرُ في

مَتْنِهِ للنار بالماءِ وقود

ونعوتُ البيض حُمْرٌ عِندَهُ

لِدَمٍ تُكْسَاهُ من قَتلِ الأُسود

وكَأَنَّ الأثْرَ فيها نَمَشٌ

كاد أن يَخْفَى بِتَوريدِ الخُدود

وكأنّ الفتكَ فيها أبداً

ذو حَياةٍ لِلعِدا مِنهُ هُمود

دُمْ لَنا يا ابن عَلِيّ مَلِكاً

في عُلاً ذاتِ سُعودٍ وصُعود

ودَنا مِنكَ بِتَقبيلِ الثرى

كلّ قَرمٍ سَيِّدٍ وهوَ مَسود