تَقولُ بُثَينَةُ لَمّا رَأَت

فُنوناً مِنَ الشَعَرِ الأَحمَرِ

Buthaina says, when she saw

Strands of red hair:

كَبِرتَ جَميلُ وَأَودى الشَبابُ

فَقُلتُ بُثَينَ أَلا فَاِقصُري

“My beauty is gone, and youth has passed away.”

So I said: “Buthaina, make it brief!

أَتَنسينَ أَيّامَنا بِاللِوى

وَأَيّامَنا بِذَوي الأَجفَرِ

Have you forgotten our days in al-Liwa’,

And our days among the large-eyed gazelles?

أَما كُنتِ أَبصَرتِني مَرَّةً

لَيالِيَ نَحنُ بِذي جَهوَرِ

Don’t you remember seeing me once

On nights when we were in Dhi Juhur,

لَيالِيَ أَنتُم لَنا جيرَةٌ

أَلا تَذكُرينَ بَلى فَاِذكُري

Nights when you were our neighbours—

Oh, do you not remember? Remember!

وَإِذ أَنا أَغيَدُ غَضُّ الشَبابِ

أَجُرُّ الرِداءَ مَعَ المِئزَرِ

When I was in the freshness of youth

I would let down my cloak, and my sash,

وَإِذ لِمَّتي كَجَناحِ الغُرابِ

تُرَجَّلُ بِالمِسكِ وَالعَنبَرِ

And my plaits were like a raven’s wings,

Scented with musk and ambergris.

فَغَيَّرَ ذَلِكَ ما تَعلَمينَ

تَغَيُّرَ ذا الزَمَنِ المُنكَرِ

But what you know has changed—

Changed like these wicked times.

وَأَنتِ كَلُؤلُؤَةِ المَرزُبانِ

بِماءِ شَبابِكِ لَم تُعصِري

You’re like a pearl of the sea

That did not squeeze out its juice of youth.

قَريبانِ مَربَعُنا واحِدٌ

فَكَيفَ كَبِرتُ وَلَم تَكبَري

Soon both our tents will be folded away.

So how is it I have grown old when you have not?”