مَضَى اللَّهْوُ إِلَّا أَنْ يُخَبَّرَ سَائِلُ
وَوَلَّى الصِّبَا إِلَّا بَوَاقٍ قَلائِلُ
Dalliance has passed away, save that an inquirer may be told of it.
Youth too has turned away, except for a few remnants—
بَوَاقٍ تُمَارِيهَا أَفَانِينُ لَوْعَةٍ
يُؤَرِّثُهَا فِكْرٌ عَلَى النَّأْيِ شَاغِلُ
remnants over which the many forms of anguish contend,
kept wakeful by a thought preoccupied with distant separation.
فَلِلشَّوْقِ مِنِّي عَبْرَةٌ مُهرَاقَةٌ
وَخَبْلٌ إِذَا نَامَ الْخَلِيُّونَ خَابِلُ
Longing has drawn from me a streaming tear,
and its haunting madness deranges me when carefree men sleep.
أَلِفْتُ الضَّنَى إِلْفَ السُّهَادِ فَلَوْ سَرَى
بِيَ الْبُرْءُ غَالَتْنِي لِذَاكَ الْغَوَائِلُ
I have grown as used to wasting sickness as to sleeplessness; even if recovery should come by night
to me, calamities would snatch me away because of it.
فَلِلَّهِ هَذَا الشَّوْقُ أَيَّ جِرَاحَةٍ
أَسَالَ بِنَا حَتَّى كَأَنَّا نُقَاتِلُ
By God, this longing—what a wound it is!
It has made our blood flow until we seem to be fighting it.
رَضِينَا بِحُكْمِ الْحُبِّ فِينَا وَإِنَّنَا
لَلُدٌّ إِذَا الْتَفَّتْ عَلَيْنَا الْجَحَافِلُ
We have accepted Love’s judgment upon us, although we
are stubborn foes when massed armies close around us.
وَإِنَّا رِجَالٌ تَعْلَمُ الْحَرْبُ أَنَّنَا
بَنُوهَا وَيَدْرِي الْمَجْدُ مَاذَا نُحَاوِلُ
We are men—war knows that we
are her sons, and glory knows what we seek.
إِذَا مَا ابْتَنَى النَّاسُ الْحُصُونَ فَمَا لَنَا
سِوَى الْبِيضِ وَالسُّمْرِ اللِّدَانِ مَعَاقِلُ
When men build fortresses for themselves, we have
no strongholds but white swords and supple, brown spears.
فَمَا لِلْهَوَى يَقْوَى عَلَيَّ بِحُكْمِهِ
أَلَمْ يَدْرِ أَنِّي الشَّمَّرِيُّ الْحُلاحِلُ
How then can passion overpower us by its decree?
Does it not know that I am al-Shammari, the mighty chief?
وَإِنِّي لَثَبْتُ الْجَأْشِ مُسْتَحْصِدُ الْقُوَى
إِذَا أَخَذَتْ أَيْدِي الْكُمَاةِ الأَفَاكِلُ
I am firm of heart, my powers tightly knit,
when the hands of noble champions seize hold.
إِذَا مَا اعْتَقَلْتُ الرُّمْحَ وَالرُّمْحُ صَاحِبِي
عَلَى الشَّرِّ قَالَ الْقِرْنُ إِنِّيَ هَازِلُ
Whenever I grip the spear—and the spear is my companion—
intent on battle, my adversary says that I am jesting.
لَطَاعَنْتُ حَتَّى لَمْ أَجِدْ مِنْ مُطَاعِنٍ
وَنَازَلْتُ حَتَّى لَمْ أَجِدْ مَنْ يُنَازِلُ
I would keep thrusting until I found no one left to thrust at,
and fight men hand-to-hand until I found no one left to fight.
وَشَاغَبْتُ هَذَا الدَّهْرَ مِنِّي بِعَزْمَةٍ
أَرَتْنِي سَبِيلَ الرُّشْدِ وَالْغَيُّ حَائِلُ
I have defied this age with a resolve of my own
that showed me the path of right guidance, while error stood barred.
إِذَا أَنْتَ أَعْطَتْكَ الْمَقَادِيرُ حُكْمَهَا
فَأَضْيَعُ شَيءٍ مَا تَقُولُ الْعَوَاذِلُ
If the decrees of fate grant you their judgment,
then nothing is more futile than what reproachers say.
وَمَا الْمَرْءُ إِلَّا أَنْ يَعِيشَ مُحَسَّدَاً
تَنَازَعُ فِيهِ النَّاجِذَيْنِ الأَنَامِلُ
A man is truly a man only if he lives envied,
with molars and fingertips contending over him.
لَعَمْرُكَ مَا الأَخْلاقُ إِلَّا مَوَاهِبٌ
مُقَسَّمَةٌ بَيْنَ الْوَرَى وَفَوَاضِلُ
By your life, virtues are nothing but gifts,
apportioned among humankind, with some surpassing others.
وَمَا النَّاسُ إِلَّا كَادِحَانِ فَعَالِمٌ
يَسِيرُ عَلَى قَصْدٍ وَآخَرُ جَاهِلُ
People are only two kinds of striver: one learned,
who travels a purposeful course, and another ignorant.
فَذُو الْعِلْمِ مَأْخُوذٌ بِأَسْبَابِ عِلْمِهِ
وَذُو الْجَهْلِ مَقْطُوعُ الْقَرينَةِ جَافِلُ
Thus the learned man is held fast by the reins of his knowledge,
while the ignorant man, cut loose from the tether, bolts away.
فَلا تَطْلُبَنْ فِي النَّاسِ مِثْقَالَ ذَرَّةٍ
مِنَ الْوُدِّ أُمُّ الْوُدِّ فِي النَّاسِ هَابِلُ
So never seek among people even an atom’s weight
of love from one for whom love among men is his undoer.
مِنَ الْعَارِ أَنْ يَرْضَى الْفَتَى غَيْرَ طَبْعِهِ
وَأَنْ يَصْحَبَ الإِنْسَانُ مَنْ لا يُشَاكِلُ
It is a disgrace for a young man to accept what is alien to his nature,
or for a person to keep company with someone unlike himself.
بَلَوْتُ ضُرُوبَ النَّاسِ طُرّاً فَلَمْ يَكُنْ
سِوَى الْمَرْصَفِيِّ الْحَبْرِ فِي النَّاسِ كَامِلُ
I tested every kind of person, one and all, and found no one
but al-Marsafi, the freeborn man, perfect among men:
هُمَامٌ أَرَانِي الدَّهْرَ فِي طَيِّ بُرْدِهِ
وَفَقَّهَنِي حَتَّى اتَّقَتْنِي الأَمَاثِلُ
a high-souled man whom Time showed me within the folds of its mantle,
and he taught me understanding until even the noblest were wary of me;
أَخٌ حِينَ لا يَبْقَى أَخٌ وَمُجَامِلٌ
إِذَا قَلَّ عِنْدَ النَّائِبَاتِ الْمُجَامِلُ
a brother when no brother remains, and a gracious friend
when gracious friends grow scarce amid calamities;
بَعِيدُ مَجَالِ الْفِكْرِ لَوْ خَالَ خِيْلَةً
أَرَاكَ بِظَهْرِ الْغَيْبِ مَا الدَّهْرُ فَاعِلُ
far-ranging in thought’s field—were he to loose his horses,
he would show you, without divination, what Time will do.
طَرَحْتُ بَنِي الأَيَّامِ لَمَّا عَرَفْتُهُ
وَمَا النَّاسُ عِنْدَ الْبَحْثِ إِلَّا مَخَايِلُ
I cast aside the sons of this age once I knew them;
under close examination, people are nothing but deceptive appearances.
فَلَوْ سَامَنِي مَا يُورِدُ النَّفْسَ حَتْفَهَا
لأَوْرَدْتُهَا وَالْحُبُّ لِلنَّفْسِ قَاتِلُ
Were he to demand of me what leads the soul to its death,
I would lead it there—for love is fatal to the soul.
فَلا بَرِحَتْ مِنِّي إِلَيْهِ تَحِيَّةٌ
تَنَاقَلُهَا عَنِّي الضُّحَى وَالأَصَائِلُ
May a greeting from me never cease to reach him,
relayed on my behalf by morning and evening.
وَلا زَالَ غَضَّ الْعُمْرِ مُمْتَنِعَ الذُّرَا
مَرِيعَ الْفِنَا تُطْوَى إِلَيْهِ الْمَرَاحِلُ
May he remain fresh in life’s bloom, his heights unassailable,
his courtyard flourishing, while the stages of journeys fold toward him.
Sol 5.6