ناد امرءا غيب خلف النقا — Sharif Al Murtaza

نادِ اِمرءاً غُيّبَ خَلف النَّقا

فكَم فَتىً نادَيته ما وَعى

Call to a man hidden behind the sand dune;

for many a youth you have called could not hear.

وَقُل لمَن لَيس يرى قائلاً

بأيِّ عهدٍ دبّ فيكَ البِلى

And say to one no longer seen speaking:

When did decay creep into you?

وَكَيف دُلّيتَ إِلى حُفرةٍ

يَمحوكَ مَحو الطِّرسِ فيها الثَّرى

And how were you lowered into a pit

where soil effaces you as writing is erased from parchment?

كَذِي ضنىً مُلقىً وَلَيتَ الّذي

سيطَ بِهِ جِسمكَ كانَ الضّنى

Like one laid low by wasting sickness—would that what

your body was mingled with had been sickness!

أَرّقنِي فَقدُك مِن راحلٍ

وَاِستَلَّ مِن عَينَيَّ طعمَ الكَرى

Losing you, departed one, has kept me sleepless

and drawn from my eyes the savor of sleep.

وَبِنتَ لا عَن مَللٍ مِن يَدي

وَغبتَ عَن عَينيَّ لا عن قِلى

You left my hand through no weariness,

and vanished from my eyes through no aversion.

فَكَيفَ وَلّيت وَخَلَّفتني

أَكرعُ مِن بَعدك كأسَ الأَسى

How could you turn away and leave me

draining, after you, the cup of sorrow?

كَأَنَّني سارٍ عَلى قَفرةٍ

مَسلوبَةٍ أَعلامُها وَالصُّوى

It is as though I were a night traveler across a wilderness

stripped of its landmarks and cairns,

أَو مُنفِضٍ مِن كلِّ أَزواده

يَحرِقُ القَيظ بِنارِ الصَّدى

or one whose provisions are all spent,

whom summer heat scorches with thirst's fire.

وصاحِبٍ لِي كُنتُ صَبَّاً بِهِ

أَخشى عَلَيهِ مِن مُرورِ الصَّبا

And a companion of mine, whom I ardently loved—

I feared for him the passing of the east wind.

تَمَّ وَلَمّا لَم يَجِد مُنتهى

غافَصنِي فيهِ طروق الرَّدى

He reached perfection; and when he found no limit,

death's night-coming for him caught me unawares.

خُولِستهُ مُحتظراً رابعاً

كالنّجم ولّى أو كغصنٍ ذَوى

I was robbed of him, sheltered and dwelling at ease,

like a star that set, or a branch that withered.

فَفي جُفونِي منهُ سَيلُ الزُّبَى

وَفي فُؤادِي مِنهُ نارُ القِرى

For him, my eyelids hold a flood overtopping the heights,

and in my heart, for him, a fire lit for guests.

وَإنْ تَقلّبتُ عَلى مَضجَعي

كانَ لِجَنبي فيهِ جَمرُ الغَضا

And if I turn upon my bed,

ghada-wood embers lie against my side there.

وَكانَ في العَينينِ لي قرّةً

فَصارَ مَيتاً لِجفوني قَذى

And he was the coolness of my eyes,

but dead, he became a mote in my eyelids.

قَد قُلتُ لِلمُسلينَ عَن حُزنِه

ما أَنا طَوعاً لِعَذولٍ سَلا

I have told those who would console my grief for him:

I am not one to forget at a reproacher's bidding.

فَإِن رَقا دَمعِي فلم يَبكِهِ

فَلن أُصبِحَ فيمَن بَكى

If my tears cease and no longer weep for him,

then I shall not see morning among those who weep.

وَكَيفَ أَسلاهُ وَبي صَبوةٌ

أَم كَيفَ أَنساهُ وفيهِ الهُدى

How can I forget him, with longing within me?

Or how can I forget him, when in him is guidance?

كَانَ كَنارٍ أُضرمت وَاِنطَفت

أَو بارِقٍ ما لاحَ حتّى اِنجَلى

He was like a fire kindled and extinguished,

or lightning that scarcely flashed before it vanished,

أَو كَوكَبٍ ما لحظتْ نورَهُ

في أُفقِه العَينانِ حتّى خوى

or a star whose light was scarcely glimpsed

on its horizon by both eyes before it set.

يَنبو عَنِ الفُحشِ وَلَم يَستطِعْ

مُعرّساً في عَرَصَات الخَنا

He recoiled from obscenity and could not find

a resting place in the precincts of depravity.

وَإنْ تَنُطْ سِرّاً إِلى حفظِهِ

فَهوَ عَلى طولِ المَدى ما فشا

And if you entrust a secret to his keeping,

it will never be divulged through all of time.

كَم أَخَذَ الدّهر لَنا صاحِباً

وَكَم طَوى في تُربِهِ ما طَوى

How many a companion has Time taken from us,

and how much it has folded into its dust—how much!

وَكَم أَمالَت كفُّهُ صَعْدةً

عالِيةً شاهِقةَ المُرتَقى

And how many a straight spear has its hand bent down,

high and towering in its reach.

إِن شِئتَ أَنْ تَعجَب فَانظُر إِلى

مُرتَبَعٍ بادَ ورَبْعٍ خلا

If you would marvel, look upon

a spring encampment vanished, a dwelling deserted,

وَنِعمَةٍ سابغةٍ قَلّصتْ

وَمَنزلٍ بَعَد كَمالٍ عفا

and ample bounty that has dwindled,

and a home effaced after its perfection;

وَمَعشَرٍ حَلّوا وَلَم يَرتَضوا

بَأساً وعزّاً في محلِّ السُّها

and a people who dwelt, refusing to accept,

in valor and glory, a station below al-Suha.

مِن دونِ ما أرغم آنافهم

ضَربُ الوَريدَينِ وَطَعنُ الكُلى

Their proud noses were not brought low

by blows to the jugulars and thrusts to the kidneys.

أَكفُّهُم لِلمُجتَدين الغِنى

وَدورُهُم في النائِباتِ الحِمى

Their palms were wealth for those seeking bounty,

and their homes a refuge amid calamities.

وَكَم لَهُم مِن مُعجِزٍ باهرٍ

أظهرهُ للناسِ يَوم الوغى

And how many a dazzling, inimitable feat was theirs,

which the day of battle revealed to all.

سيقوا إِلى الموتِ كَما سُوِّقتْ

لِلعَقْرِ بِالكُرهِ بِهامُ الفلا

They were driven to death as are driven

the wilderness's young beasts, unwilling, to slaughter.

وَطوّحوا في بَرزَخٍ واسعٍ

بَينَ هُوى مظلمَةٍ أو كُدى

And they were hurled into a vast intervening realm,

amid dark chasms or stony mounds.

كَأَنَّهم ما قسّمتْ برهةً

أَيديهمُ الأَرزاقَ بَينَ الوَرى

As though never, for even a while, had

their hands shared sustenance among mankind,

وَلا أَقاموا العزَّ ما بَينَهم

بِالبيضِ مَعموداً وسُمر القنا

nor had they raised glory in their midst,

supported by bright swords and tawny spears.

هوَ الرَّدى لَيسَ لَه مَدفعٌ

وَالمَوتُ لا يَقبلُ بذلَ الرّشا

It is death: there is no repelling it,

and death accepts no offered bribes.

وَكَم مَضى قبلك أغلوطةً

بِالسّيفِ مِن غَفلته مِن فَتى

How many before you have perished, caught by a ruse,

young men put to the sword in their heedlessness.

إِن ساءَني البينُ فَقَد سَرَّني

أَنّك فارَقتَ شَهيرَ الظبا

If parting has grieved me, yet it has gladdened me

that you departed with blades drawn.

تَمضِي إِلى القومِ الأُلى لَم تَزلْ

تَجعلهم في الظّلماتِ الهُدى

You go to those whom you have always

taken as guides through the darkness.

فَإِنْ تَبوّأتَ لَهُم مَنزلاً

كُنتَ بِهم في الدرجاتِ العُلى

If you settle in a dwelling of theirs,

you will stand with them in the highest ranks.

وَلَم يَزَل قَبركَ تُبلى بهِ

عَليكَ إِن شِئتَ دُموعُ الحَيا

And may there ever be spent at your grave,

upon you, if you wish, the tears of rain.

فَلَم يَضِرْ وَهوَ ندٍ تُربه

مِن رَحمةٍ أَن لَم يُصبه النّدى

No harm would come—its soil being moist

with mercy—if no dew were to touch it.

وَإِنْ تَكُن مُظلمةً حَوله

قُبورُ أَقوامٍ فَفيهِ السَّنا

And though there lie in darkness around it

the graves of other folk, within it is radiance.

وَإِنْ يَبِتْ في غَيِر ما رَبوةٍ

فَهوَ لَدَى الرّحمَنِ أَعلى الرُّبى

And though it lie upon no hill,

with the All-Merciful it is the highest of hills.