لَعَمْري إِنّي يومَ بُصْرى وناقتي
لَمُخْتَلِفا الأَهواءِ مُصْطَحِبانِ
By my life! When my camel and I
Were seeking different passions, journeying together,
فَلَوْ تَرَكَتْني ناقتي من حَنينِها
وما بِيَ من وَجْدٍ إِذاً لكَفاني
Had she left me because of her yearning,
I would have enough sadness then to suffice me.
متى تَجْمعي شوقي وشوقَكِ تُفْدِحي
وما لكِ بِالْعِبْءِ الثَّقيلِ يَدانِ
When will you join my passion with yours
And why do you not help me bear the heavy burden?
فيا كَبِدَيْنا من مَخافَةِ لوعةِ
الفِراقِ ومن صَرْفِ النّوى تَجْفان
O my two livers, from fear of the agony
Of parting and from being diverted from purpose, you are scorched.
وإِذْ نحن مِنْ أَنْ تَشْحَطَ الدّارُ غُرْبةً
وإِنْ شُقّ لِلْبَيْنِ العَصا وَجِلانِ
When we are about to leave the abode desolate
And the staves of separation are broken in twain,
يقولُ لِيَ الأصحابُ إِذْ يَعْذلُونَني
أَشَوْقٌ عِراقِيٌّ وأنتَ يَمانِ
My friends say to me, blaming me,
“An Iraqi longing for one from Yemen!”
وليسَ يَمانٍ للعراقيْ بِصاحبٍ
عسى في صُرُوفِ الدَّهْرِ يَلْتَقِيانِ
“The Iraqi has no friend from Yemen”
Perhaps in the twists of fate they will meet.
تَحَمَّلْتُ مِنْ عفراءَ ما ليس ليبِهِ
ولا لِلجبالِ الرَّاسياتِ يَدانِ
I have endured from a dusky beauty what
Neither mountain nor arm has strength for.
كَأَنَّ قَطاةً عُلِّقَتْ بِجَناحِها
على كَبِدي من شِدَّةِ الخَفَقانِ
As though wild cats with claws unsheathed
Were hung to my bosom because of the throbbing.
جَعَلْتُ لِعَرّافِ اليَمامةِ حُكْمَهُ
وعَرّافِ حَجْرٍ إِنْ هما شَفياني
I made the diviner of al-Yamamah to be my judge
And the diviner of Hajar, if the two could cure me.
فقالا نَعَمْ نَشْفي مِنَ الدّاءِ كُلِّهِ
وقاما مع العُوّادِ يَبتَدِرانِ
They said, “Yes, we cure all disease”
And they stood up with the visitors competing.
نعم وبلى قالا متى كنتَ هكذا
لِيَسْتَخْبِراني قلتُ منذ زَمانِ
“Yes and amen,” they said, when I was in this state,
To examine me. I said, “For a long time now.”
فما تركا من رُقْيَةٍ يَعْلَمانِها
ولا شُرْبَةٍ إِلاّ وقد سَقَياني
They left no chant they knew
Or potion but they gave it to me to drink.
فما شَفَيا الدّاءَ الذي بيَ كُلَّهُ
وما ذَخَرا نُصْحاً ولا أَلَواني
They cured not at all the disease that was in me
And hoarded no good advice or treatments for me.
فقالا شفاكَ اللهُ واللهِ ما لَنا
بِما ضُمِّنَتْ منكَ الضّلوعُ يَدانِ
They said, “May God cure you, by God we have no way
To what your ribs contain, O hand of strife!”
فرُحْتُ مِنَ العَرّافِ تسقُطُ عِمَّتي
عَنِ الرّأْسِ ما أَلْتاثُها بِبَنانِ
I rejoiced that the diviners’ turbans
Were falling from their heads, so useless were they.
