أما آن للسلوان أن يردع الصبا — Sharif Al Murtaza

أَما آنَ لِلسّلوانِ أَن يَردَعَ الصَّبّا

وَلا لِدنوّ الهَجرِ أن يُبعد الحبّا

Has not the time come for solace to restrain passion,

and for approaching estrangement to drive love away?

لَقد أنكرَ الدّهر العَثور صَبابتي

وَقَد كانَ أَلقى مُهجَتي للهوى خربا

Indeed, stumbling Time has disowned my ardent love,

though once it cast my heart to passion as plunder.

وَلَمّا وَقَفنا لِلوَداعِ اِنتَضَتْ لَنا

يَدُ البَينِ بَدراً مزّقت دونَهُ السُّحْبا

And when we stood for farewell, there was unsheathed for us,

by parting's hand, a full moon, the clouds before it torn away.

فَأَبصرتُ عرساً بَينَ بُردَيهِ مأْتمٌ

وَأَوليت بِرّاً عادَ عِندَ النّوى ذنبا

So I beheld a wedding with a funeral between its two robes,

and bestowed kindness that became, at separation, a sin.

وَقُد كنتُ أَخشى وَثبَةَ الدّهرِ بَينَنا

وَنَحنُ مِنَ الإِشفاقِ نَستَوعرُ العَتْبا

And I had feared Time's assault upon us,

while, in our apprehension, we found reproach too harsh.

فَكَيفَ وَقَد خاضَ الوشاةُ حَديثنا

وَأَضحَوْا لَنا مِن دونِ أَترابِنا صَحبا

How, then, when the slanderers have plunged into our story,

and become our companions instead of our peers?

سَقى اللَّه أَكنافَ اللّوى مُرْجَحِنَّةً

سَحاباً يَظلّ الهَضبُ مِن جودِهِ خَضْبا

May God water the flanks of al-Liwa with heavy-laden

clouds whose bounty keeps the hills richly dyed.

وَأَطلقَ أَنفاسَ النّسيم بجوّهِ

فَكَم كَبِدٍ حَرّى تَهَشُّ إذا هبّا

And may He release the breeze's breaths through its air;

how many a burning liver thrills when it blows!

فَعَهدي بهِ لا يهتدِي البين طُرْقَه

وَلا تَطرق الأحزانُ مِن أَهلهِ قلبا

For, as I remember it, parting could not find its roads,

nor did sorrows visit any heart among its people.

حَمَتْهُ اللّيالي عَن مُطالَبةِ الرّدى

وَلَم أَدرِ أَنَّ الدّهرَ يَجعلهُ نَهبْا

The nights shielded it from death's demands,

and I did not know that Time would make it plunder.

وَمن ذا الّذي لا يَفتق الدّهر رَتْقَه

وَلا تُنزل الدنيا بِساحتهِ خَطبا

And who is there whose seams Time does not rip apart,

and at whose courtyard the world does not bring down calamity?

بِرَبِّك ما مَزجي المَطيّة هل رَعتْ

رِكابُك في سفح الحِمى ذلك الرّطْبا

By your Lord, [O] driver of the mount, have they grazed—

your camels—on that tender growth at the foot of the preserve?

وَهَل كَرِعتْ مِن ذلك الحيّ كرعةً

فَقَد طالما شرّدت عنّي به كَرْبا

And have they drunk a draught from that encampment?

For so often grief was driven away from me there.

وَهَل لَعِبت أَيدي السيول بِحَزْنه

وَهَل سَفَت الأَرواح مِن سهلهِ التُّربا

And have the hands of torrents played upon its rugged ground?

And have the winds swept the dust from its level ground?

غَرامي بِأَهلِ الجِزْع منك بنجوةٍ

وَلَو جُزته أَعيا الرّكائب والرّكْبا

My passion for the people of al-Jizʿ is beyond your reach;

even if you traversed it, it would exhaust both camels and riders.

شَرِبتُ خَليطَ الودِّ منهم ومَحْضه

فَلَستُ أُبالي إِن سَقوا غيريَ الضَّرْبا

I drank their affection both mingled and pure,

so I care not if they give another white honey to drink.

وَفيهِنَّ بيضاءُ العوارِضِ لم تلُثْ

خِماراً وَلَم تَعرف مَناكبُها العَصْبا

Among them is a white-cheeked one who has never wound

a head-veil, nor have her shoulders known striped cloth.

أَبَحتُ هَواها مِن سَرارةِ مُهجَتي

حِمىً لَو حَمَتْه همَّتي لم أكن صبّا

I granted love of her, from the innermost core of my heart,

a sanctuary; had my resolve guarded it, I would not be lovesick.

فَإِنْ تَكُنِ الأيّام أمْحَلْنَ وصْلَنا

فإنّ بقلبي من تذكّرها خِصْبا

If the days have made our union barren,

there is fertility in my heart from remembering her.

عَذيرِيَ مِن مُستَعذبٍ صابَ بغْضَتي

وَقَد وَرَدت خيل الصّرى منهلا عَذْبا

Who will vindicate me against one who finds my hatred's bitter sap sweet,

when the horses of rancor have reached a sweet watering-place?

تَحكّمَ منهُ الضِّغنُ لمّا رَعيتهُ

رِياضَ حلومٍ لَم يَكُن نَبتُها عُشبا

Resentment took command within him when I let him graze

in meadows of forbearance whose growth was no mere grass.

كَأَنّ اللّيالي كافِلاتٌ بعمرهِ

فَإِن قلتَ قَد شابَت ذَوائبُه شبّا

As though the nights guaranteed his lifespan:

say his forelocks have turned gray, and he grows young again.

إِلى كَم أغضّ الطّرفَ منهُ عَلى القَذى

وَأَهنأُ مِن حلمِي قَلائصَه الجَربى

How long shall I lower my gaze before him, despite the grit in my eye,

and tar his mangy young she-camels with my forbearance?

وَهَبْتُ لَه صَبري عَلى هَفَوَاتِهِ

وَلولا عَطائي ما تملّكها كسبا

I gave him my patience toward his lapses;

without my gift, he would not have acquired them by his own earning.

وأُقسم أنِّي لو مَددت له يدي

لَطال على حَوْباءةٍ تَسكن الجَنبا

And I swear that, if I stretched my hand toward him,

it would reach the soul dwelling within his flank.

أَيا حاسِدي كَسب العُلا اِكتسب العُلا

فَإنّ المَعالي لَيسَ تَأخذها غصبا

O you who envy my winning eminence, win eminence yourself;

for high honors cannot be seized by force.

رَكِبتُ لَهُ وَالخيلُ مِنكَ بَريئةٌ

وأخصبَ في رَبْعِي وكنتَ له جَدْبا

I rode in its pursuit, while horses had nothing to do with you;

it flourished in my homestead, while you were barren ground for it.

وَقَلّبتُ أطرافَ القَنا في طِرادهِ

وقلبُك في شُغلٍ بتقليبها القُلْبا

And I turned the points of spears in pursuit of it,

while your heart was engrossed in her twirling the bracelet.

إِذا المَرءُ لَم تَستصحب الحَزمَ نفسُهُ

أَقامَت سَجاياهُ عَلى نَفسِه إلْبا

If a man's soul does not take prudence as its companion,

his traits array themselves against him as a hostile band.

وَلَيسَ يَنالُ المَجد إِلّا اِبنُ هِمّةٍ

أَبَتْ أَن يَكونَ الصّعبُ في نَفسهِ صَعبا

And none attains glory but the son of a resolve

that refuses to let the difficult seem difficult to him.

وَكَم لائِمٍ في المَجدِ لا نُصحَ عِندَهُ

جَعلتُ جَوابي عَن مَلامَتِه تبّا

How many a critic of glory, with no sound counsel to offer,

have I answered for his reproach with 'Perish!'

يَلوم عَلى أنّي أحِنّ إلى النّدى

وَلَيسَ لِمَن عابَ النّدى عندِيَ العُتبى

He blames me because I yearn toward generosity,

and I will not appease anyone who faults generosity.

وَما المالُ إلّا ما سَبقت به ردىً

فَأَعطيته أَو ما شفيت به صبّا

Wealth is only that with which I outpaced death,

giving it away, or that with which I healed a lovesick man.

وَعِندي لِمَنْ رامَ اِبتِلائِيَ همَّةٌ

تُرى بعْدَ طُرْقِ المَكْرُماتِ هو القربا

And for anyone intent on testing me, I have a resolve

that sees the distant roads to noble deeds as nearness itself.

مُهذِّمَةٌ لا يخطب الهزلَ جِدُّها

ولا تملأُ الرّوعاتُ ساحتها رُعبا

Keen-edged, its earnestness never courts jest,

nor do terrors fill its precinct with fear.

لَها شَفرة لا يَكْهَمُ الدّهرُ غربها

وَلَن تَترك الأيامُ في شفرةٍ غَرْبا

It has a blade whose edge Time cannot blunt,

though the days will leave no edge upon any blade.

وَلَيلٍ كَأنَّ البدرَ في جنَبَاتهِ

أَخو خَفَرٍ يُدْنِي إِلى وَجهِهِ سِبّا

And many a night, when the full moon in its reaches seemed

a bashful man drawing a linen veil toward his face,

خَرقتُ حَواشيهِ بِخَرقاءَ جَسْرةٍ

تَرى الصّدقَ في عَينيك ما وجدتْ كِذْبا

I pierced its margins on a headlong, sturdy she-camel.

She sees truth in your eyes; she has found no falsehood.

مُسهّدَةٌ لا يطعمُ النومَ جَفنُها

وَلا تَبلغ الغايات مِن صَبرها العُقبى

Sleepless, her eyelid never tastes sleep,

nor do the farthest goals reach the end of her endurance.

إِذا ما اِستَمرّتْ في الشّكيم تَلوكه

كَسا مِشفراها عارِيات الرُّبا عُطْبا

When she bears hard on the bit, chewing it,

her two lips clothe the bare hills in cotton.

أَقول إِذا أَفنى الدُّؤوب تجلّدي

أَلا ربّ تصديعٍ ملكت به الشّعبا

I say, when ceaseless toil exhausts my endurance:

Ah, many a rending has won me reunion!

وَلا بدَّ لي مِن نَهضةٍ في لُبانةٍ

أُميتُ القنا فيها وأُحْيي به النّحْبا

And I must rise in pursuit of a cherished aim,

wearing spears to death for it, and through them reviving my vow.

فَإِن أَبلغِ القُصوى فشيمةُ ماجدٍ

وَإِن تَنبُ أَسيافِي فَلَن أَدع الضّربا

If I reach the farthest goal, that is a noble man's way;

and if my swords glance off, I shall not cease striking.