عَلى الشَنفَرى ساري الغَمامِ فَرائِحٌ

غَزيرُ الكُلى وَصَيِّبُ الماءِ باكِرُ

On Shunfara the clouds rain ceaselessly,

Pouring copiously, early rain drizzling.

عَلَيكَ جَزاءٌ مِثلُ يَومِكَ بِالجَبا

وَقَد رَعَفَت مِنكَ السُيوفُ البَواتِرُ

Upon you may there be a recompense like your day at Al-Jaba,

When the gleaming swords were unsheathed around you.

وَيَومِكَ يَومُ العَيكَتَينِ وَعَطفَةٍ

عَطَفتَ وَقَد مَسَّ القُلوبَ الحَناجِرُ

That was the day of weakness and compassion,

When you showed compassion though hearts were suffering distress.

تَجولُ بِبِزِّ المَوتِ فيهِم كَأَنَّهُم

بِشَوكَتِكَ الحُدّى ضَئينٌ نَوافِرُ

Death wandered among them as though they were,

Through your staunchness, faint fawn-spotted camels.

وَطَعنَةِ خَلسٍ قَد طَعَنتَ مُرِشَّةٍ

لَها نَفَذٌ تَضِلُّ فيهِ المَسابِرُ

And the treacherous hidden stab with which you stabbed Murshid

Having an issue through which the probes went astray.

إِذا كُشِفَت عَنها السُتورُ شَحا لَها

فَمٌ كَفَمِ العَزلاءِ فَيحانُ فاغِرُ

When the veils were lifted from her you pitied Murshid,

Her mouth like that of a lone, desolate woman, open.

يَظَلُّ لَها الآسي يَميدُ كَأَنَّهُ

نَزيفٌ هَراقَت لُبَّهُ الخَمرُ ساكِرُ

To her the rider inclines as though he were

An outpouring whose ferment the wine had made limpid.

فَيَكفي الَّذي يَكفي الكَريمُ بِحَزمِهِ

وَيَصبِرُ إِنَّ الحُرَّ مِثلَكَ صابِرُ

So he suffices whom the noble suffices with his resolution,

The free man, like yourself, shows patience.

فَإِن تَكُ نَفسُ الشَنفَرى حُمَّ يَومُها

وَراحَ لَهُ ماكانَ مِنهُ يُحاذِرُ

If the soul of Shunfara one day becomes zealous

And there comes to him that which he was wary of before,

فَما كانَ بِدعاً أَن يُصابَ فَمِثلُهُ

أُصيبَ وَحُمَّ المُلتَجونَ الفَوادِرُ

Then it was no innovation that the like of it should befall one like him

And the rash be made zealous and launch out.

قَضى نَحبَهُ مُستَكثِراً مِن جَميلِهِ

مُقِلّاً مِنَ الفَحشاءِ وَالعِرضُ وافِرُ

He fulfilled his partner’s term, making much of her favors,

Lessening wantonness, while honor was abundant.

يُفَرِّجُ عَنهُ غُمَّةَ الرَوعِ عَزمُهُ

وَصَفراءُ مِرنانٌ وَأَبيَضُ باتِرُ

His resolve relieves him of the distress of fear,

While the white Mailan and the gleaming Batir.

وَأَشقَرُ غَيداقُ الجِراءِ كَأَنَّهُ

عُقابٌ تَدَلّى بَينَ نيقَينِ كاسِرُ

The blond, braided, short-tressed Gaidag as though he were

An eagle that swooped down between straight and curved bows.

يَجُمُّ جُمومَ البَحرِ طالَ عُبابُهُ

إِذا فاضَ مِنهُ أَوَّلٌ جاشَ آخِرُ

He surges with the surge of the sea—his might is prolonged—

When a first surge from it floods, another follows.

لَئِن ضَحِكَت مِنكَ الإِماءُ لَقَد بَكَت

عَلَيكَ فَأَعوَلنَ النِساءُ الحَرائِرُ

If slave girls laugh at you, free women have assuredly

Wept for you, raising shrill cries.

وَمَرقَبَةٍ شَمّاءَ أَقعَيتَ فَوقَها

لِيَغنَمَ غازٍ أَو لِيُدرِكَ ثائيرُ

And over a high watchtower on which you climbed, observers

To descry raiders or partisans to descry the fugitives.

وَأَمرٍ كَسَدِّ المِنخَرَينِ اِعتَلَيتَهُ

فَنَفَّستَ مِنهُ وَالمَنايا حَواضِرُ

And at a matter like sniffing the two nostrils you chafed,

Gasping from it while the deaths were present.

وَإِنَّكَ لَو لاقَيتَني بَعدَ ما تَرى

وَهَل يُلقَينَ مَن غَيَّبَتهُ المَقابِرُ

Indeed, were you to meet me after what you see

And will he who has been hidden in the graves meet me?

لَأَلفَيتِني في غارَةٍ أَعتَزي بِها

إِلَيكَ وَإِمّا راجِعاً أَنا ثائِرُ

You would find me raiding proudly against you

Whether I am returning or again setting out.

فَلَو نَبَّأَتني الطَيرُ أَو كُنتُ شاهِداً

لَآساكَ في البَلوى أَخٌ لَكَ ناصِرُ

Had the birds told me or had I witnessed,

I would have solaced you in affliction, a supporter for you.

وَإِن تَكُ مَأسوراً وَظَلتَ مُخَيّماً

وَأَبلَيتَ حَتّى ما يَكيدُكَ واتِرُ

And if you are taken captive and are sheltering

And are worn out until no plotting avails against you,

وَحَتّى رَماكَ الشَيبُ في الرَأسِ عانِساً

وَخَيرُكَ مَبسوطٌ وَزادُكَ حاضِرُ

Until grey hairs make you in the head an aged man,

While your best possession is secure and your provisions are present,

وَأَجمَلُ مَوتِ المَرءِ إِذ كانَ مَيِّتاً

وَلابُدَّ يَوماً مَوتُهُ وَهوَ صابِرُ

The most beautiful kind of death for a man, when he must die some day

And his death is bound to come while he shows patience,

وَخَفَّضَ جَأشي أَنَّ كُلَّ اِبنِ حُرَّةٍ

إِلى حَيثُ صِرتَ لا مَحالَةَ صائِرُ

Is to lower his voice that every son of a noble

To where you have come inevitably will come.

وَأَنَّ سَوامَ المَوتِ تَجري خِلالَنا

رَوائِحُ مِن أَحداثِهِ وَبَواكِرُ

And that the chargers of death run among us—

Whiffs from its events and early matters.

فَلا يَبعَدَنَّ الشَنفَرى وَسِلاحُهُ

الحَديدُ وَشَدٌّ خَطوُهُ مُتَواتِرُ

So let not Shunfara with his weapons—

The iron and the compactness of his step oft-repeated—

إِذا راعَ رَوعُ المَوتِ راعَ وَإِن حَمى

حَمى مَعَهُ حُرٌّ كَريمٌ مُصابِرُ

Keep far away when the distress of death keeps near,

Together with a free man, noble and patient.