1. يَا دَارَ كَبْشَةَ تِلْكَ لَمْ تَتَغَيَّرِ

    بِجُنُوبِ ذِي خشُبٍ فَحَزْمِ عَصَنْصَرِ

    O dwelling of Kabsha, there, unchanged,

    On the flanks of Dhū Khushub, then the ridge of ʿAṣanṣar,

  2. فَجُنُوبِ عَرْوَى فَالقِهَادِ غَشِتُهَا

    وَهْناً فَهَيَّجَ لي الدُّمُوعَ تَذَكُّرِي

    Then ʿArwā’s flanks, then al-Qihād—I visited it

    Late at night, and my remembrance set my tears flowing.

  3. تَمْشي بها حِزَقُ النَّعَامِ كَأَنَّهَا

    بُعْرَانُ كَلاَّءٍ يَلُحْنَ بِأَيْصَرِ

    Flocks of ostriches walk there, as though they were

    A fodder-gatherer’s camels, looming with grass-nets.

  4. وقَلُوصِ مَأْرُبَةٍ بَغَيْتُ هِبَابَهَا

    في مَوْرِدٍ نَائِي المَوَارِدِ مَصْدَرِ

    And many a young she-camel for my needs—I sought her lively pace

    At a watering-place far from others, and on departing.

  5. عَمِلٍ قَوَائِمُهَا عَلَى مُتَقَعْقِعٍ

    عَكِصِ المَرَاتِبِ خَارِجٍ مُنَتَشِّرِ

    Tireless of leg, with a rattling frame above,

    Knotted in its joints, jutting out and splayed.

  6. وَرَدَتْ وقَدْ بَلَغَ الفِتَانُ وَضِينَهَا

    غَلَساً ولَمْ تُوصِلْ ولَمْ تَتَهَجَّرِ

    She reached the water, her saddle-cover already at her girth,

    In dawn-darkness, without continuous night-and-day travel or journeying in noon’s heat:

  7. قُلُبَاً مُنَكزَةً جَوَائِزُ عَرْشِهَا

    تَنْفِي الدِّلاَءَ بِآجَنٍ مُتَمَذِّرِ

    Wells with the crossbeams of their frames firmly pegged,

    Spitting back buckets of stagnant, putrid water;

  8. جُوفاً إِذَا نُهِزَتْ تَرَنَّمَ جُولَهَا

    كَتَرَنُّمِ المَكُّوكِ عِنْدَ المِزْهَرِ

    Hollow wells—when stirred, their walls resounded

    Like the ringing of a drinking-cup beside the lute.

  9. فَتَزَاوَرَتْ مِنْ طَيِّه وحِيَاضِهِ

    ونَقِيِّ خِيمٍ كَالنِّسَاءِ الحُسَّرِ

    She turned aside from its stone lining and its troughs,

    And Khīm’s dunes, like bareheaded women.

  10. عَبَّتْ بِمِشْفَرِهَا وَفضْلِ زِمَامِهَا

    في فَضْلَةٍ مِنْ مَاصِعٍ مُتَكَدِّرِ

    She drank deeply, dipping her lip and her halter’s slack

    In a remnant of bitter, muddy water.

  11. فَبَعَثْتُهَا تَقِصُ المَقَاصِرع بَعْدَمَا

    كَرَبَتْ حَيَاةُ النَّارِ لِلْمُتَنَوِّرِ

    Then I urged her on, tracing the paths, after

    The fire’s life had nearly ended for the watcher of its glow.

  12. قَبَّاءُُ قَدْ لَحِقَتْ خَسِيسَةُ سِنِّهَا

    واسْتُعْرِضَتْ بِبَضِيعِهَا المُتَبَتِّرِ

    Slender-bellied, her smallest tooth has caught up,

    And she has broadened with her flesh in thick masses.

  13. وكَأَنَّ نَابَيْهَا بِأَخْطَبِ ضَالَةٍ

    مُسْتَنْقِعَانِ عَلَى فُضُولِ المِشْفَرِ

    And as though her two fangs, in a wild lote-tree’s dusky green,

    Were steeped, above the hanging folds of her lip.

  14. وكَأَنَّ رَحْلِيَ فَوْقَ أَحْقَبَ قَارِحٍ

    يَحْدُو سلائِبَ مِنْ بَنَاتِ الأَخْدَرِ

    And as though my saddle rode a full-grown, white-bellied wild ass,

    Driving bereaved she-asses, daughters of al-Akhdar.

  15. لَمْ يَعْدُ أَنْ فَتَقَ النَّهيقُ لَهَاتَهُ

    ورَأَيْتُ قَارِحَهُ كَلَزِّ المِجْمَرِ

    His braying had only just split open his throat,

    And I saw his adult tooth like the spike of a brazier.

  16. مُسْتَنْتِلٍ هُلْبَ العَسِيبِ خِلاَفَهُ

    وخِلاَفَهَا كَلَقَى الخَلِيفِ المُعْصِرِ

    His tail’s coarse hair thrust out behind him,

    And behind them, like debris from a rain-swept ravine.

  17. يَعْدُو مَنَاطَ الكِفْلِ مِنْ جَنَبَاتِهَا

    لاَ مُعْجَلٍ رَهَقاً ولاَ مُتَأخِّرِ

    He runs beside their flanks, at saddle-pad height,

    Neither hurried under pressure nor falling behind.

  18. جَارٍ بِجَحْفَلَةٍ يَمُجُّ لُفَاظَهَا

    سُمُطٍ كَمَكُّوكِ النَّصَارَى المُصْفَرِ

    Running, with a lower lip whose spittle he spits out,

    Hairless, like the Christians’ yellow cup.

  19. تَكْسُو سَنَابِكُهَا شُكُولَ لَبَانِهِ

    نَقْعَاً كَأَنَّ بِهَا دَوَاخِنَ مُخْدِرِ

    Their hooves clothe the markings of his chest

    In dust, as though they bore a shelter-dweller’s plumes of smoke.