يا رب إن أخطأت أو نسيت — Roba Bin Al Ajaj

يا رَب إِن أَخْطَأتُ أَوْ نَسِيتُ

فَأَنْتَ لا تَنْسَى وَلا تَمُوتُ

O Lord, if I have erred or forgotten,

You neither forget nor die.

إِنَّ المُوَقَّى مِثْلَ ما وَقِيتُ

أَنْقَذَنِي مِنْ خَوْفِ ما خَشِيتُ

Indeed, one safeguarded as I was safeguarded—

He rescued me from dread of what I feared,

رَبِّي وَلَولا دَفْعُهُ تَوِيتُ

فَالجِد أَغْشَانِي الَّذِي غَشِيتُ

My Lord; but for His protection, I would have perished.

So earnest striving brought me into what I entered,

أَرْمِي بِأَيْدِي العِيسِ إِذْ هَوِيتُ

فِي بَلْدَةٍ يَعْيَى بِهَا الخِرِّيتُ

I flung the pale camels' forelegs forward as I sped,

In a land where even the expert guide is baffled.

رَأْيُ الأَدِلَّاء بِهَا شِتِّيتُ

هَيْهَاتَ مِنْهَا مَاؤُها المَأْموتُ

The guides' judgment there is divided.

Far, far from it lies its reckoned water.

مَرتٍ يُنَاصِي حَزْمَها مُرُوتُ

صَحْراءَ لَمْ يَنْبُتْ بِهَا تَنْبِيتُ

A barren waste, with other wastes adjoining its stony uplands,

A desert where no vegetation has grown.

يَمْشِي بِهَا ذا الشِرَّةِ السَبُوتُ

وَهوَ مِن الأَيْنِ حفٍ نَحِيتُ

Even the spirited, swift camel walks there,

And it is footsore and panting from fatigue.

كأَنَّنِي سَيْفٌ بِهَا إِصلِيتُ

يَنْشَقُّ عَنِّي الحَزْنُ وَالبِرِّيتُ

As though I were a keen-edged sword there,

The rugged ground and wilderness split open before me,

وَالبَيْضَةُ البَيْضاءُ وَالخُبُوتُ

وَوَد أَعْدائِي لَوْ نُعِيتُ

And the white expanse and the low-lying flats.

And my enemies wished my death were announced.

ومِنْك أَرْجُو رُؤْيَا أَنَّنِي سُقِيتُ

سُقِيتُ ماء المُزْن أَوْ سُقِيتُ

And from you I hope for a vision of being given drink—

Given rain-cloud water, or given drink

مِنْ بارِدِ النَحْلِ وَقَدْ صَدِيتُ

قارَبَ نَقْع الرِيِّ أَوْ رَوِيتُ

From the bees' cool honey, when I was parched.

Thirst-quenching refreshment drew near—or I drank my fill.

لَمّا عَلَا كَعْبُكَ لِي عَلِيتُ

وَقْعُكَ دَاوانِي وَقَدْ جَوِيتُ

When your standing rose on my behalf, I rose.

Your impact cured me—when I was heartsick—

مِنْ داءِ نَفْسِي بَعْدَ ما طَنِيتُ

مِثْلَ طَنَي الأَسْنِ وَمَا ضَنِيتُ

Of my soul's sickness, after I had languished,

Like the sickness of one stricken by foul air, though I had no wasting disease,

أَوْ صاحِبِ السَهْمِ وَمَا رُمِيتُ

مَسْلَمَ لا أَنْساكَ ما حَييتُ

Or an arrow's victim, though I had not been shot.

Maslam, I shall not forget you as long as I live,

عَهْدَكَ وَالعَهْدُ الَّذِي رَضِيتُ

لَو أَشْرَبث السُلْوانَ ما سلِيتُ

Your pledge, and the pledge I accepted.

Were I given the draught of oblivion, I would not forget.

ما بِي غِنىً عَنكَ وَإِنْ غَنِيتُ

لَو أَنَّنِي صَمِمْت أَوْ عَمِيتُ

I cannot do without you, even if I grow rich,

Even if I become deaf or blind.

إِن أَنَا لَم أَصْدُقْكَ ما لَقِيتُ

مِنْ كُربٍ فَوْتَ الرَدَى رَدِيتُ

If I do not truthfully tell you what I encountered

Of anguish short of death—may I perish!

ما بَعْد أَنِّي مُرْهَقٌ مَبْهوتُ

لا آخُذ النِّصْفَ وَلا أَفُوتُ

What more, when I am hard-pressed and bewildered?

I gain no justice, nor can I escape.

قَدْ فَرِقَ النَّاسُ وَقَدْ عَيِيتُ

مِن أَيْن آتِي الأَمْر إِذ أُتِيتُ

The people grew fearful, and I was at a loss:

From where could I approach the matter, when I was assailed,

رَهْنَ الحَرُورِيِّينَ إِذْ صُرِيتُ

صَمَّاءَ صُمٍّ طَيْرُها سُكُوتُ

A hostage to the Harurites, when I was confined?

An utterly deaf calamity, its birds silent.

لَولا انْتِظاري كَشْفَها بَلِيتُ

إِذْ قَالَ شَيْطانُهُمُ العِفْرِيتُ

Had I not awaited its lifting, I would have wasted away.

When their devil, the cunning fiend, said:

لَيْسَ لَكُمْ مُلْكٌ وَلا تَثْبِيتُ

إِنْ لَمْ يُصَبْ مِنْ صِيتِ سَعْدٍ صِيتُ

“You have no dominion and no firm footing,

Unless renown is gained from Sa'd's renown.”

وكُنْتُ مِجْذاماً إِذَا عَصِيتُ

إِذ الْتَوَى بِي الأَمْر أَوْ لُوِيتُ

And I was swift and resolute whenever I defied,

When the matter grew tangled about me, or I was constrained.

وَلا أُجِيبُ الرُعْبَ إِنْ رُقِيتُ

حَتَّى يَفِيقَ الغَضَبُ الحَمِيتُ

Nor do I yield to terror, even if spells are recited over me,

Until fierce anger comes to its senses.

إِذَا اسْتَدَارَ البَرَمُ الغَلُوتُ

قُلْتُ وَقَوْلِي عِنْدَهُمْ مَقْتُوتُ

When the blundering miser turned about,

I spoke—and my words were detested among them—

مَقَالَةً إِذْ قُلْتُهَا غَوِيتُ

بَلْغٌ إِذَا اسْتَنْطَقْتَنِي صَمُوتُ

An utterance: when I spoke it, I went astray.

Eloquent when you bid me speak, otherwise silent.

فَقُلْت أَنْجُو النَفْس إِذْ نُجِيتُ

هَلْ يَعْصِمَنِّي حَلِفٌ سِخْتِيتُ

So I said, whispering to my soul when I was saved:

“Could a firm pact protect me,

أَوْ فِضَّة أَوْ ذَهَبٌ كِبْرِيتُ

مِنْهُمْ وَمِن خَيْلٍ لَهَا صِيْتُ

Or silver, or pure red gold,

From them and from steeds of renown?”

لا بَلْ دَعَوْتُ اللَّهَ إذْ هُدِيتُ

دَعَوْتُهُ وَالمُتَّقِي ثَبِيتُ

No; instead I called upon God when I was guided.

I called upon Him; the God-fearing man is steadfast.

فَانْتَاشَنِي وَلمْ يُصَبْ تَعْنِيتُ

مِنْ رَوْحِهِ رَوْحٌ فَقَدْ حَييْتُ

So He plucked me free, and no torment was inflicted.

From His mercy came relief, and so I lived.

إِنَّ الَّذِي نَجَّى وَمَا بُدِيتُ

نَجَّى وَكُلُّ آجِلٍ مَوْقُوتُ

Indeed, He who saved me—and I was not the first—

Saved—every future event has its appointed time—

مُوسَى وَمُوسَى فَوْقَهُ التابُوتُ

وَصاحِبَ الحُوتِ وَأَيْنَ الحُوتُ

Moses, with the chest above Moses,

And the companion of the fish—and where was the fish?

فِي ظلُمَاتٍ تَحْتَهُنَّ هِيتُ

لِلْحُوتِ فِي أَثْنائِهِ بُتُوتُ

In layers of darkness, beneath which lies an abyss.

The fish makes passages through its folds.

وَزَبَدُ الماءِ لَهُ كَتِيتُ

تَرَاهُ وَالحُوتُ لَهُ نَئِيتُ

And the water's foam has a hissing sound.

You see it, and the fish lets out a groan.

كِلاهُما مُغْتَمِسٌ مَغْتُوتُ

وَكَلْكَلُ الماءِ لَهُ مَبِيتُ

Both are immersed and pressed beneath the water.

And the water's breast is his lodging for the night.

وَاللَّيْلُ فَوْقَ الماءِ مُسْتَمِيتُ

يُدْفَعُ عَنْهُ جَوْفُهُ المَسْحُوتُ

And night lies deathly still above the water.

Its hollowed-out belly is warded away from him.