1. سَقَى مَضربَ الخَيمَاتِ مِن عَلَمَي نَجدِ

    أَسَحُّ غَمَامَي أَدمُعِي وَالحَيَا الرَغدِ

    May the tenting-ground at Najd's two landmarks be watered

    by the heavier-pouring of the two clouds: my tears and abundant rain.

  2. وَقَد كَانَ فِي دَمعِي كفَاءٌ وَإِنَّمَا

    يُجَفِّفُهَا مَا بِالضُّلوعِ مِنَ الوَقدِ

    My tears were indeed enough; it is only

    the burning within my ribs that dries them away.

  3. فَإِن فَتَرت نَارُ الضُّلُوعِ هُنَيهَةً

    فَسَوفَ تَرَى تَفجِيرَهُ لِلحَيَا العِدِّ

    So if the fire within my ribs abates a moment,

    you will see it bring inexhaustible rain gushing forth.

  4. وَإِن ضَنَّ صَوبُ المُزنِ يَوماً فَأَدمُعِي

    تَنوبُ كَمَا نَابَ الجَمِيعُ عَنِ الفَردِ

    And if the rainclouds withhold their downpour one day, my tears

    will take its place, as the many stand in for the one.

  5. وَإِن هَطَلا يوماً بِساحَتِهَا مَعاً

    فَأروَاهُمَا مَا صَابَ مِن مُنتَهَى الوُدِّ

    And if both pour together one day upon its grounds,

    the more thirst-quenching of the two is what falls from the utmost love.

  6. أَرَى زَفرَتِي تُذكَى وَدَمعِيَ يَنهَمِي

    نَقِيضَينِ قَاما بالصِلاء وَبالوردِ

    I see my sigh kindled and my tears pouring down—

    two opposites, providing fire's warmth and water to drink.

  7. فَهَل بالذِي أَبصَرتُمُ أَو سَمِعتُمُ

    غَمامٌ بِلا أُفقٍ وَبَرقٌ بِلا رَعدِ

    Is there, in what you have seen or heard,

    a cloud without a horizon, and lightning without thunder?

  8. لِيَ اللَّهُ كَم أَهذِي بِنَجدٍ وَأَهلِها

    وَمَا لِي بِهَا إِلا التَّوَهُّمُ مِن عَهدِ

    God help me! How often I rave about Najd and its people,

    though I have no acquaintance with it beyond mere imagining.

  9. وَمَا بِي إِلَى نَجدٍ نُزُوعٌ وَلا هَوَى

    خَلا أَنَّهُم شَنُّوا القَوَافِي عَلَى نَجدِ

    I have neither longing for Najd nor love,

    save that they have showered their rhymes upon Najd.

  10. وَجَاءُوا بِدَعوَى حَسَّنَ الشِّعرُ زورَها

    فَصَارَت لَهُم فِي مُصحَفِ الحُبِّ كَالحَمدِ

    They have made a claim whose falsehood poetry adorned,

    so it became for them like al-Hamd in the scripture of love.

  11. شُغِلنَا بِأَبنَاءِ الزَّمانِ عَنِ الهَوَى

    وَلِلدرعِ وَقتٌ لَيسَ يَحسُنُ لِلبُردِ

    We have been kept from love by the sons of our age;

    and mail has its hour, when a cloak is out of place.

  12. إِلى اللَّهِ أَشكُو رَيبَ دَهرِي يُغصُّ بِي

    نَوَائِبُهُ قَد أَلجَمَت أَلسُنَ العَدِّ

    To God I complain of my fate's vicissitudes, which choke me;

    its calamities have bridled the tongues that would count them.

  13. لَقَد صَرفَت حُكمَ الفُؤَادِ إِلَى الهَوَى

    كَمَا فَوَّضت أَمرَ الجُفُونِ إِلَى السُّهدِ

    They have surely given passion dominion over my heart,

    just as they entrusted my eyelids to sleeplessness.

  14. أَمَا تَتَوَقَّى وَيحَها أَن أُصِيبَهَا

    بِدَعوَةِ مَظلُومٍ عَلَى جورِهَا يُعدِي

    Do they not beware—woe to them!—lest I strike them

    with a wronged man's prayer that brings redress against their injustice?

  15. أَمَا رَاعَهَا أن زَحزَحَت عَن أَكَارِمٍ

    فِرَاقُهُمُ دَلَّ القُلُوبَ عَلَى حَدِّي

    Does it not trouble them that they drove me from noble men,

    whose parting has revealed my sharp edge to hearts?

  16. أعاتِبُهَا فِيهم فَتَزدَادُ قسوَةً

    أجدكَ هَل عَايَنتَ لِلحَجَرِ الصَّلدِ

    I reproach them over those men, and they grow harder.

    Tell me in earnest: have you seen the like in solid stone?

  17. أمَا عَلِمَت أَنَّ القَسَاوَةَ نَافَرَت

    طِبَاعَ بَنِي الآدَابِ إِلا مِنَ الرَّدِّ

    Do they not know that hardness is alien

    to the nature of men of letters, except the base among them?

  18. إذا وَعَدَت يَوماً بتَألِيفِ شَملِنَا

    فَألمِم بِعُرقوبٍ وَمَا سَنَّ مِن وَعدِ

    If ever they promise to reunite us,

    then turn to ʿUrqub and the precedent he set in promises.

  19. وإِن عَاهَدَت أَن لا تُؤَلِّفَ بَينَنَا

    تَذكَّرت آثارَ السَّمَوأَلِ فِي العَهدِ

    And if they pledge not to bring us together,

    I recall al-Samaw'al's deeds of fidelity.

  20. خَلِيلَيَّ أَعنِي النَّظمَ والنَّثرَ أَرسِلا

    جِيادَكُما فِي حَلبَةِ الشُّكرِ والحَمدِ

    My two friends—I mean verse and prose—send forth

    your steeds into the racecourse of thanks and praise.

  21. قِفا ساعِدَانِي إِنَّهُ حقُّ صَاحِبٍ

    بَرِيء جِمام الكَتمِ مِن كَدَرِ الحقدِ

    Halt and help me, you two: this is the due of a friend

    whose hidden pools are free of rancor's murk.

  22. بأيَّةِ مَا قَيَّدتُما أَلسُنَ الوَرى

    بِذِكرِي فَيَا وَيحَ الكِنَانِي وَالكِندِي

    By whatever means you two have bound people's tongues

    to my name—then woe to al-Kinani and al-Kindi!

  23. فَأَينَ بَياني أَو فَأَينَ فَصَاحَتِي

    إِذا لَم أُعِد ذِكرَ الأَكَارِمِ أَو أُبدِي

    Where, then, is my expressive power, or where my eloquence,

    if I do not repeat the mention of noble men or make it known?

  24. فَيَا خَاطِري وَفِّ الثّنَاءَ حُقوقَهُ

    وَصِفهُ كَمَا قَالُوا سِوَارٌ عَلَى زَندِ

    So, my poetic mind, give praise its full due,

    and portray it, as they say, as a bracelet on a wrist.

  25. وَلا تُلزِمَنّي بِالتَّكَاسُلِ حُجَّةً

    تُشَبِّبُهَا نَارُ الحَيَاءِ عَلَى خَدِّي

    And do not, through sloth, burden me with a reproach

    that the fire of shame would kindle upon my cheek.

  26. ثَكِلتُ القَوافي وَهيَ أَبناءُ خاطِري

    وَغَيَّبَها الإِقحامُ عَنِّيَ في لَحدِ

    May I be bereaved of rhymes—the children of my mind—

    and may strained composition bury them away from me in a grave,

  27. لَئِن لَم أَصُغ زهرَ النُّجوم قِلادَةً

    وَآتِ بِبَدرِ التَمِّ واسِطَةَ العِقدِ

    if I do not fashion the radiant stars into a necklace

    and bring the full moon as the necklace's central gem,

  28. إِلَى أَن يَقولَ السَّامِعونَ لِرِفقَتي

    نَعَم طارَ ذاكَ السَقطُ عَن ذلِكَ الزَندِ

    until those who hear say to my companions:

    'Yes, that spark flew from that fire-stick.'

  29. أُحَيِّي بِرَيّاها جَنابَ اِبنِ سالِمٍ

    فَيَقرَعُ فيهِ البابَ في زَمَنِ الوَردِ

    I salute Ibn Salim's court with its fragrance,

    so it knocks at the door there in the season of roses.