لِمَن طَلَلٌ أَبصَرتُهُ فَشَجاني
كَخَطِّ زَبورٍ في عَسيبِ يَمانِ
For whom is a ruin I saw that made me yearn
Like the stroke of a bee in the valley of Yemen’s streams
دِيارٌ لِهِندٍ وَالرَبابِ وَفَرتَني
لَيالِيَنا بِالنَعفِ مِن بَدَلانِ
A land of music, the rebec's wail turned me aside
Our nights with the flute of changes from the rain clouds
لَيالِيَ يَدعوني الهَوى فَأُجيبَهُ
وَأَعيُنُ مَن أَهوى إِلَيَّ رَواني
Nights whose passion calls me and I respond
And the eyes of her I love turn to me in comfort
فَإِن أُمسِ مَكروباً فَيا رُبَّ بَهمَةٍ
كَشَفتُ إِذا ما اِسوَدَّ وَجهُ جَبانِ
So if I spend a day in sorrow, oh Lord of glorious splendor
I dispel it when the dark face of misfortune frowns
وَإِن أُمسِ مَكروباً فَيا رُبَّ قَينَةٍ
مُنَعَّمَةٍ أَعمَلتُها بِكِرانِ
And if I spend a day in sorrow, oh Lord of a docile she-camel
Whose saddle I fitted out with fringes
لَها مِزهَرٌ يَعلو الخَميسَ بِصَوتِهِ
أَجَشُّ إِذا ما حَرَّكَتهُ اليَدانِ
She has a warbling voice that rises over the camel-litter on Thursday
More plaintive when you excite her with your hands
وَإِن أُمسِ مَكروباً فَيا رُبَّ غارَةٍ
شَهِدتُ عَلى أَقَبِّ رَخوِ اللَبانِ
And if I spend a day in sorrow, oh Lord of a cave I frequented
Witness to the bending neck of the pliant sand-dune
عَلى رَبَذٍ يَزدادُ عَفواً إِذا جَرى
مِسَحٍّ حَثيثِ الرَكضِ وَالزَأَلانِ
On a smooth floor increasingly sleek when you pour on it
Copious ablution water rushing wildly down
وَيَخدي عَلى صُمٍّ صِلابٍ مَلاطِسٍ
شَديداتِ عَقدٍ لَيِّناتِ مَتانِ
It rides upon deaf boulders cemented stout
With strong noded ropes all flexibly intertwined
وَغَيثٍ مِنَ الوَسمِيِّ حُوٍّ تِلاعُهُ
تَبَطَّنتُهُ بِشيظَمٍ صَلِتانِ
And rain from storm clouds hotly recoiling
Whose drizzle I take cover from with a robe of Yemeni broadcloth
مِكَرٍّ مِفَرٍّ مُقبِلٍ مُدبِرٍ مَعاً
كَتَيسِ ظِباءِ الحُلَّبِ الغَذَوانِ
Retreating, advancing, wheeling round together
Like a white wild cow with horns tossing high
إِذا ما جَنَبناهُ تَأَوَّدَ مَتنُهُ
كَعِرقِ الرُخامى اِهتَزَّ في الهَطَلانِ
When we startle it, its flank quivers
Like marble veins shuddering from the pouring rain
تَمَتَّع مِنَ الدُنيا فَإِنَّكَ فاني
مِنَ النَشَواتِ وَالنِساءِ الحِسانِ
Take your pleasure in life, for you will pass away
From delights and beautiful women
مِنَ البيضِ كَالآرامِ وَالأُدمِ كَالدُمى
حَواصِنُها وَالمُبرِقاتِ الرَواني
In white like the Aramis, in red like the ruddy
Their breasts an enclosure, their waists so slender
أَمِن ذِكرِ نَبهانِيَّةٍ حَلَّ أَهلُها
بِجِزعِ المَلا عَيناكَ تَبتَدِرانِ
Does the memory of Nabhaniyyah move you? Its people
Wept copiously, your eyes begin to weep
فَدَمعُهُما سَكبٌ وَسَحٌّ وَدَيمَةٌ
وَرَشٌّ وَتَوكافٌ وَتَنهَمِلانِ
Their tears a downpour, a torrent, an outpouring
A sprinkle, a shedding, a welling up
كَأَنَّهُما مَزادَتا مُتَعَجِّلٍ
فَرِيّانِ لَمّا تُسلَقا بِدِهانِ
As if competing to hasten from their source
When boiled out from their pupils by emotion
