غَدا وَلَم يَقضِ مِن سَلّومَةَ الوَطَرا
وَما تَلَبَّثَ إِذا وَلّى وَما اِنتَظَرا
Tomorrow came, and he did not finish his farewell greeting,
No sooner had he turned away than he left without waiting.
وَما أَلَمَّ بِحَيِّيها وَجارَتِها
إِلّا لِيُعذَرَ بِالهِجرانِ إِن هُجِرا
He did not bid farewell to her neighbors,
Except to excuse himself if he were to shun them.
لِتَعلَمي بَعدَ ما تَنأى البِلادُ بِنا
أَنَّ الثَوِيَّ الَّذي داوَيتَ قَد شَكَرا
So that you may know, after the lands have distanced us,
That I am grateful for the love you offered me.
بَهنانَةٌ يَتستَعيرُ القَومَ أَعيُنَهُم
حَتّى تَرُدِّ إِلى ذي النيقَةِ البَصَرى
A beauty who borrows people's eyes
Until she returns their gaze to the clear-sighted one.
وَغَيرِ فُحشٍ وَلَيسَ الفُحشُ عادَتَها
إِلّا التَمامَ وَحُسناً بارِعاً ظَهَرا
She is not vulgar, and vulgarity is not her habit—
Only perfection, outstanding grace appeared.
لَم تَدرِ ما سَيِّئَ الأَخلاقِ مُذ بُرِئَت
خودُ يُوَرِّعُها الراعي إِذا زَجَرا
Since she was created, she did not know evil character—
The shepherd himself restrains her if he scolds.
كانَت تَحِلُّ إِذا ما البَعثُ أَصحَبَها
بَطنَ الخَلاءَةِ فَالآمارِ فَالسُرَرا
Whenever the caravan traveled with her,
She wandered the empty wilderness, the thicket, and the pleasure gardens.
حَتّى إِذا الغَيثُ أَلوى نَبتُهُ اِنتَجَعَت
فَخالَطَت مِن سوادِ الغوطَةِ الكُوارا
Until, when the rain twisted its plants, she mingled
With the black sheep of the flock.
كَم مِن فَتىً قَد رَأَينا لا سَوامَ لَهُ
ثُمَّ اِقتَنى بَعدَ ذاكَ المالَ وَاِحتَبَرا
How many men have we seen who had no property,
Then afterwards acquired wealth and became prosperous.
وَمُكثِرٍ كانَ ذا مالٍ فَأَذهَبَهُ
تَفريقُ ما يُذهِبُ الأَموالَ فَاِفَتَقَرا
And many who had much money, but lost it—
The dispersion of what makes money disappear, so he became destitute.
وَلَستُ مُحتَلِباً نَفسي لِيَملِكَها
رَبٌّ عَلَيَّ وَشَرُّ البَيعِ ما خُسِرا
I do not deceive myself in order to control it—
I have a Lord over me, and the worst sale is one that loses.
لَقَد أَسيتُ عَلى زَيدٍ وَإِخوَتِهِ
أَسىً طَوَيتُ عَلَيهِ الكَشحَ فَاِضطَمَرا
I grieved over Zayd and his brothers
A grief I wrapped myself in, so I became depressed.
يَبينُهُ الحَيُّ في وَجهي وَأُخبِرُهُم
أَن لَيسَ يَكرُثُني هَمّي إِذا اِحتَضَرى
The living see it in my face, and I tell them
That my worries will not trouble me when death draws near.
وَكَيفَ يَنصُرُني قَومي وَقَد بُنِيَت
بُيوتهُم بِصَفا العَصرَينِ مِن بَسَرا
And how can my people help me when
Their homes were built in the lifetime of my grandfather and his grandfather in Basra,
في مَذحِجٍ وَجُذامِ لا حِقينَ بِهِم
وَالأَشعَرَين وَمَن بِالشامِ مِن مُضَرا
In Madhij, Judham—they have no rights there—
And the Ash‘ar and those from Muḍar in Syria.
تَبَدَّلوهُم وَكُنّا نَحنُ مَحتِدَهُم
وَالدَهرُ يَحدُثُ بعدَ الأُلفَةِ الغَيَرا
They were substituted for them, while we were their partisans,
And time brings about changes after familiarity.
تَأبى لَنا الضَيمَ مَعكاءٌ مُؤَبَّلَةٌ
تَرعى مِنَ القَفَراتِ الناعِمِ النَضِرا
She refuses oppression for us, a trained she-camel
Who grazes on the soft, fresh lowlands.
صُهبُ العَثانينِ مَكتوبٌ جَماجِمُها
خورُ الضُروعِ تَغُرُّ الأَوفَرَ الحَشَرا
Their skulls are written upon with brambles,
The sheep pens shout out during the plentiful evening conversations.
كَأَنَّما الدَحضُ في أَعلى مَسارِبِها
طُلينَ مِن اَحرُثِ الجَنانَةِ المَدَرا
It is as though the pounding is at the top of their drinking places—
Mud from a gardener who fertilizes the crops.
إِذا تَبادَرَتِ المَعزى صِغارَتِها
غَدَت تُحالِجُ تَحتَ السيرَةِ الشَجَرا
When their young she-goats compete with each other,
They become like trees beneath the enclosure.
نَقري الضُسوفَ إِذا ما الزادُ ضُنَّ بِهِ
مُسطارُ ماشِيَّةٍ لَم يَعدُ أَن عُصِرا
We pound chickpeas when the provisions are scarce—
The mortar of a walking flock that did not used to be pressed.
لبِئسَتِ العَينُ عَينٌ بِتُّ أَتبَعُها
إِذا اِدلَهَمَّ سَوادُ اللَيلِ فَاِعتَكرا
Miserable is the eye, an eye that spent the night crying
When the darkness of night overwhelmed it and it became blind.
تَغشى الخَبازِ وَفيهِ حَولَهُ سَعَةٌ
وَخَيبَةُ العَينِ أَلا تَبصِرَ الغَدَرا
It covers the baker while ample around him
And the disappointment of the eye—can it not see betrayal?
لَقَد تَباشَرَ أَعدائي بِما لَقِيَت
رِجلي وَكَم مِن كَريمٍ سَيِّدٍ عَثَرا
Indeed, my enemies have taken advantage of what happened to
My foot—and how many noble chiefs have stumbled!
رِجلي الَّتي كُنتُ أَرقى في الرِكابِ بِها
فَاأَستَقِلَّ وَأَرضى خُطوَها اليَسَرا
My foot which I used to rise up high with
Has now weakened and settled into an easy gait,
مَحبوكَةٌ مِثلُ أُنبوبِ القَناةِ لَها
عَظمٌ تَكَمَّشَ عنهُ اللَحمُ فَاِنحَسَرا
Twisted like the shaft of a canal, its bone
Has protruded, stripped of flesh, so it is visible.
يَنعَونَ صَدعاً بِظُنبوبي كَأَنَّهُمُ
يَنعَونَ سَيِّدَ قَومٍ صادَفَ القَدَرا
They complain of a fracture in my pipe as if
They are complaining of the fate which befell a tribe’s chief.
فَإِن عَفا اللَهُ عَنّي فَهوَ مُقتَدِرٌ
وَإِن هَلَكتُ فَحُرٌّ صادِقٌ صَبَرا
So if Allah pardons me, then He has power,
And if I die, then I am a truthful man who endured patiently.
لَيتَ الَّذي مَسَّ رِجلي كانَ عارِضَةً
بِحَيثُ ينبتُ مِنّي الحاجِبُ الشَعَرا
Would that what touched my foot had been a calamity
In a place where my eyebrow could grow hair from it!
وَما يُضِرُّ لِساناً كَالسِنانِ إِذا
غَبَّ الكَلامُ أُهيضَ العَظمُ أَم جَبَرا
And how does a tongue harm like teeth
When words disappear—does the bone get set or mended?
يا اِبنَ الخَليفَةِ إِنّي قَد تَأَوَّبَني
هَمٌّ أَعانَ عَلَيَّ السُقمَ وَالسَهَرا
O son of the Caliph, worries have made me sleepless,
Exhaustion and wakefulness have overwhelmed me.
فَلا أَنامُ إِذا ما اللَيلُ أَلبَسَني
وَلَو تَغَطَّيتُ حَتّى أَعرِفَ السَحَرا
So I do not sleep when night wraps me
Even if I cover myself until daybreak.
داوَيتَ ضَيفَكَ حَتّى قامَ مُعتَدِلا
وَرشَتَهُ فَرَآهُ الناسُ قَد جُبِرا
You healed your guest until he stood straight,
And you sprinkled him, so people saw he was mended
بِالبَزِّ وَالفَرَسِ الحَسناءِ مَوهِبَةً
وَبِاللِقاحِ الصَفايا تَحلِبُ الدِررا
With clothes and a beautiful mare as a gift
And pure bred horses that yield pearls when they are milked.
فَإِنَّ بَحرَكَ لا تَجزي البُحورُ بِهِ
وَإِنَّما أَنتَ غَيثٌ طالَما مَطَرا
For your sea does not suffice for its depths,
And you are a rain that poured down for so long.
