إذا سارت بنا خوص الركاب — Sharif Al Murtaza

إِذا سارتْ بنا خُوصُ الرِّكابِ

ورُحنا بالهوادج والقِبابِ

When the narrow-eyed riding camels bear us onward,

and we depart with howdahs and domed tents,

دعي ما لا يردّ عليكِ شيئاً

وقومِي فاِنظري مِنّي إيابي

leave what brings you nothing in return,

and rise, and await my return.

فإنْ فُجِعتْ يمينُك بي اِرتحالاً

فقد فجعتْ يَميني بالشّبابِ

For if departure bereaves your right hand of me,

my right hand has already been bereaved of youth.

فما يُجدي زفيري إذْ توالى

ولا يُغني بكائي واِنتحابي

My sighing avails nothing as it comes unceasingly,

nor do my weeping and sobbing help.

ذعَرْتُ به المَها وأَرقْتُ لمّا

لبستُ قميصَه ماءَ التَّصابي

With it I startled the oryx and poured away—when

I donned its shirt—the water of youthful dalliance.

ونكّب عاذلي عن دارِ عَذْلِي

فتاركني وأقصرَ عن عتابي

My reprover turned aside from the house of reproach,

so he left me alone and ceased rebuking me.

فلستُ أحنّ والبيضاءُ عندي

إلى البيضاء والرُّودِ الكعابِ

I do not yearn, with white hair upon me,

for the fair woman and the tender maiden with budding breasts.

ولا تَقتادني بُرَحاءُ وجْدِي

إلى ذاتِ القلائِد والسِّخابِ

Nor does the torment of my longing lead me

to her with necklaces and scented necklets.

فَقُلْ لِصَقيلة الخدّين حُسناً

دَعيني من ثناياك العِذابِ

So tell her whose cheeks are polished with beauty:

Spare me your sweet front teeth.

فَما لي فوق جِيدِكِ من عِناقٍ

وَما لي مِن رُضابِكِ من شرابِ

There is no embrace of mine about your neck,

nor any drink for me from your sweet saliva.

وَلا لي منكِ والشّعرات بيضُ

بُعَيْدَ سوادِها غير اِجتنابِ

Nor is there anything for me from you, now that my hairs are white,

so soon after their blackness, but avoidance.

نِقابَكِ والبعادَ اليومَ منّي

فقد صار المشيبُ بها نِقابي

Veil yourself, and keep far from me today;

for the grayness in those hairs has become my veil.

ضَللتُ عن الهُدى زمناً بسودِي

فَأَرشَدني المَشيبُ إلى الصّوابِ

With my black locks I strayed from guidance for a time;

then gray hair guided me to what is right.

أَلَمْ تَرني مُقيماً في سِراعٍ

إِلى خَطأٍ بطاء عن صوابِ

Have you not seen me dwelling among men swift

toward error, but slow to do what is right?

طعامي فيهمُ وعدٌ خَلِيٌّ

عَنِ الجَدوى وَشُربي من سَرابِ

My food among them is a promise empty

of benefit, and my drink comes from a mirage.

لَهمْ غدرٌ بجارِهُمُ وَمكْرٌ

بِه خافٍ ولا مكرُ الذّئابِ

They have treachery toward their neighbor, and guile

against him, concealed—beyond even the guile of wolves.

وَقَد مَزجوا دَهاءً بالتَّداهي

كَما خَلطوا الغَباوَة بالتّغابي

They have mixed cunning with affected cunning,

as they have mixed stupidity with feigned stupidity.

وَحبُّهُمُ الّذي لا أَرتضيهِ

فَأنفقُ فيه من جِدّي لِعابي

Their love is something I do not esteem;

so I spend on it my playfulness, not my earnestness.

فَقُل لِمَعاشرٍ رجموا حِمامي

أَروني مَن يَنوب لَكمْ مَنابي

So tell those people who have forecast my death:

Show me who can take my place for you,

وَمَن يشفيكُمُ كَلِماً وكلْماً

لدى غَمَراتِ خطبٍ أو خطابِ

and who can heal you with words and wounds

amid the trials of calamity or oratory?

وَقَد طَرد الرّدى عنكمْ قِراعي

كما طرح النّدى فيكمْ سحابي

My sword-fighting has driven death away from you,

just as my cloud has shed bounty among you.

فأين حضيضُكمْ من رأسِ نِيقِي

ومِن أوشالكمْ أبداً عُبابي

Where is your low ground beside my mountain's summit?

And how could your trickles ever compare with my surging flood?

وَما للعار في طَرَفِي مجالٌ

وأنتمْ في يَدَيْ عارٍ وعابِ

Disgrace has no place at my side,

while you are in the hands of shame and blame.

فَلا تَستَوطِنوا إلّا وِهاداً

فَإِنّ لِغيركمْ قُلَلَ الرّوابي

So dwell nowhere but in the lowlands,

for the hilltops belong to others.

وَممّا ضرّمَ الأعداءَ ناراً

حلولِي من قريشٍ في اللّبابِ

And among the things that set my enemies ablaze

are my place in the purest core of Quraysh,

وَأنّ إِلى نبيٍّ أو وصيٍّ

نُسِبتُ فمن له مثلُ اِنتسابي

and the fact that to a prophet or a designated successor

my lineage is traced—who has an ancestry like mine?

وفي بيتي النبُوّةُ ما عَدَتْنِي

وقانونُ الإمامةِ في نِصابي

Prophethood is in my house; it has not passed me by,

and the canon of the imamate rests in my lineage.

أَجِلْ عَينيك في مَجدي تَجدْني

وَلَجْتُ إلى العلا من كلّ بابِ

Let your eyes roam over my glory; you will find me

having entered the heights through every door.

فما طُوِيتْ على لَعِبٍ ثيابي

ولا حُدِيَتْ إلى طَرَبٍ رِكابي

My garments were never wrapped around frivolity,

nor were my camels driven by song toward revelry.

هو الزّمنُ الّذي يُدْني ويُنئِي

ويُقعِي حين يُقعِي للوِثابِ

It is Time that brings near and drives away,

and crouches, when it crouches, to spring.

جَمَعتمْ يا بني الدّنيا حطاماً

يُرى من بعدكمْ بيدِ النِّهابِ

You have amassed, O sons of this world, mere chaff

that, after you are gone, will be seen in plunderers' hands.

وَقَد أَذلَلتُ ما أَعززتموهُ

فَدأبكُمُ بني الدنيا ودابي

I have abased what you have exalted;

so yours is one way, sons of this world, and mine another.

لَقد طَلب العدى منّي معاباً

فَما وَجدوا وَقد وجدوا معابي

My foes have indeed sought a fault in me,

yet found none, though they encountered my censure.

وَلا رجّوا ولا حذروا جميعاً

سِوى عقبي ثَوابي أو عقابي

Nor did any of them hope for or fear

anything but the outcome of my reward or my punishment.

وَمن ذا كانَ لِلخلفاءِ مِثلي

وقد مسّتْ أسِرَّتهم ثيابي

Who has been to the caliphs what I have been,

when my garments have touched their thrones?

وَقَد عَتِبوا عليَّ وليس يخلو ال

عَدُوُّ ولا الوليُّ من العتابِ

They have reproached me; yet neither the

foe nor the friend is free from reproach.

فَما طَرحوا لذي أرَبٍ سؤالي

وَلا تَركوا جَوابي عن خطابي

They never cast aside my petition for someone in need,

nor failed to answer my address.

وَما لِي بَينهمْ إِلّا ليالٍ

عذُبْنَ وغير أيّامٍ طِيابِ

I have known among them nothing but nights

that were sweet, and days that were pleasant.

وكمْ يومٍ نصرتُهُمُ وفَرْشِي

قَرا الجُرْدِ المطهّمةِ العِرابِ

How many a day I came to their aid, my bed

the backs of sleek, well-formed Arab steeds.

كأنّي شامِخٌ في رأس طَوْدٍ

وفي الإسراعِ فوق قطاةِ جابِ

As though I towered upon a mountain's summit,

and, in speed, rode upon a sandgrouse of Jab.

وفي كفّي صقيلٌ لا بصقلٍ

له عهدٌ طويل بالقِرابِ

And in my hand a polished sword—not one

long acquainted with the scabbard.

إذا حَمَلَتْهُ كفّي في هِياجٍ

فويلٌ للجماجمِ والرّقابِ

When my hand bears it into battle,

then woe to skulls and necks!

وقد جمجمتُ عمّا في ضميري

فإنْ بُقّيتُ قلتُ ولم أحابِ

I have only hinted at what is in my heart;

if I am kept alive, I shall speak and show no favor.