1. O abode of the virtuous company at Dhu al-Sidr,

    Answer us: this greeting comes after long absence.

  2. Indeed, a campsite's remains in the abode struck my eyes,

    The years, and the wind with rain, have assailed it in turn.

  3. So I said to the nearer of my two companions, while I

    concealed longing within my ribs like burning coals:

  4. By both your lives, do not hurry: a halt

    at the abode holds death, or lifelong repose.

  5. So they both turned aside; no living creature could we sense there,

    save dusky ostrich-hens, and ostrich-cocks grazing with pale gazelles.

  6. By God, what longing it has stirred

    in one undone, raving of Hind without awareness!

  7. He hid sorrow in his heart, till it seemed

    a breath of sorcery possessed him, or something stronger than sorcery.

  8. O Khalida, the breach between me and you was

    coquetry; yet distance has led to estrangement.

  9. May you be requited! Will you not requite the longing that wastes me?

    And I never forget you except in remembrance.

  10. My two friends, what do you advise me about a desire?

    Were it not for modesty, my breast would have proclaimed it.

  11. Stay, both of you: today is a day that has brought us

    auspicious bird-omens, not ill luck or hardship.

  12. If Hind withholds from you, then perhaps she will...

    And if she gives, it is a crack upon an existing fracture.

  13. She is one of the fair-limbed women; her fingertips seem

    like shoots of thadda' sedge from a moist sandy rise.

  14. The reproachers' blame has lasted long, and I am wasted by

    long separation and a difference of disposition.

  15. O Tha'lab, I swear an oath: I have not spoken of you

    with ill words, but I reproached Bakr.

  16. So do not dry out the soil between me and you,

    for what lies between me and you is moist.

  17. Great are your guest-bowls in famine years, and your neighbor

    spends the night sheltered from dreaded dangers, as in a nest.

  18. O Tha'lab, since I first knew you, I have always

    respected your veil; so do not tear away mine.

  19. Were it not for the wise men of 'Amr ibn 'Amir,

    I would have struck Banu Bakr with a back-breaking blow.

  20. They guard the grazing herd, but do not guard it

    from an army swelling troop upon troop.

  21. May God repay Yarbu' for its good turn to al-Sid,

    and in Shiyaym there is neither recompense nor thanks.

  22. Sons of al-Sid, we sheltered you, as you well know,

    among us, while the women in litters pressed on in flight.

  23. We bestowed favors on you—if only you had thanked us for our service—

    when Dhuhl's war had driven you into straits.

  24. Sons of al-Sid, Mudrik's gesturing cannot erase

    the scars of rhymes upon your dusky hides.

  25. For what feat do you praise Mujashi'—

    bulls' dewlaps blazing upon a bridge?

  26. Do you not know those who fluff their beards

    when their bellies are full, who boast with nothing to boast of?

  27. I am the full moon, whose light dazzles your eyes.

    And who would liken a trousered monkey to the full moon?

  28. Yarbu's impregnable mountains have protected me,

    and a vast expanse of sea surges before me.

  29. So he went astray, like those who equate Mujashi',

    the dung of water-camels, with defenders of the frontier.

  30. For Mujashi' was not present on the day of al-Ghabit,

    nor at the horses' rush from the twin peaks of Yusr.

  31. Nor, on the day of Muharriq's army, were we joined by

    Tuhayya, riders of the chestnut Waqidiyya steeds.

  32. Nor did Hajar's horses attend the day of al-Naqa,

    nor al-Sid, when they snorted amid the red spears.

  33. And we despoiled al-Jawn and Muharriq's two sons,

    and 'Amr, and we slaughtered the kings of Banu Nasr.

  34. When we unsheathed our swords against them,

    we straightened with them the crookedness of haughty tyrants.

  35. Whenever al-Farazdaq's spirit hoped for respite,

    the waves of a deep, swelling sea engulfed him.

  36. So the bastard smith's hand faltered, and he was smothered by

    towering crests hurling themselves from the sea.

  37. Perhaps you hope to breathe after

    you were smothered, as the tormented man is smothered in the grave.

  38. So she did not bear him lawfully to Malik under lucky stars,

    nor did his mother bear him on the Night of Power.

  39. So do not think that war, once it grows hideous,

    is a boasting contest: boasting disgraces you.

  40. After Banu Badr and the spoils taken from your neighbor,

    did you accept humiliation and sit clasping your knees over an unavenged wrong?

  41. And I was told that Jawwab and Sakan revile me,

    and 'Amr ibn 'Ifra—no peace be upon 'Amr!

Sol 6.1