1. خَليلَيَّ مُرّا بي عَلى رَسمِ مَنزِلِ

    وَرَبعٍ لِشَنباءَ اِبنَةِ الخَيرِ مُحوِلِ

    My two friends, take me by the trace of a dwelling,

    and Shanba's campsite, daughter of goodness, deserted a year.

  2. أَتى دونَهُ عَصرٌ فَأَخنى بِرَسمِهِ

    خَلوجانِ مِن ريحٍ جَنوبٍ وَشَمأَلِ

    A span of time has passed over it, and its trace was effaced

    by two fierce, gusting winds, from south and north.

  3. سَرا جُلَّ ضاحي جِلدِهِ مُلتَقاهُما

    وَمَرُّ صَباً بِالمورِ هَوجاءَ مَحمَلِ

    Their meeting stripped most of its exposed skin,

    and so did the rush of a fierce, dust-bearing east wind.

  4. وَبُدِّلَ بَعدَ الحَيِّ عَيناً سَواكِناً

    وَخَيطَ نَعامٍ بِالأَماعِزِ هُمَّلِ

    After the tribe, it held instead wide-eyed wild cattle at rest,

    and a flock of ostriches wandering untended on stony ground.

  5. بِما قَد أَرى شَنباءَ حيناً تَحِلُّهُ

    وَأَترابَها في ناضِرِ النَبتِ مُبقِلِ

    Where once I would see Shanba dwelling for a time,

    and her companions amid fresh, sprouting greenery.

  6. أَعالِيَ تَصطادُ الفُؤادَ نِساؤُهُم

    بِعَينَي خَذولٍ مونَقِ الجُمِّ مُطفِلِ

    High-born folk, whose women ensnare the heart

    with the eyes of a lovely-tufted doe tending a fawn.

  7. وَوَحفٍ يُثَنّى في العِقاصِ كَأَنَّهُ

    دَواني قَطوفٍ أَو أَنابيبَ عُنصُلِ

    And thick hair folded into braids, as though it were

    low-hanging fruit clusters or stalks of squill.

  8. تَضِلُّ مَداريها خِلالَ فُروعِها

    إِذا أَرسَلَتها أَو كَذا غَيرُ مُرسَلِ

    Her combs disappear among her tresses,

    whether she lets them loose or keeps them bound like this.

  9. وَتَنكَلُّ عَن غُرٍّ شَتيتٍ نَباتُهُ

    عِذابٍ ثَناياهُ لَذيذِ المُقَبَّلِ

    She parts her lips over gleaming teeth, spaced in their growth,

    sweet at the incisors, delicious to kiss.

  10. كَمِثلِ أَقاحي الرَملِ يَجلو مُتونَهُ

    سُقوطُ نَداً مِن أَخِرِ اللَيلِ مُخضِلِ

    Like sand-grown daisies whose surfaces are polished

    by drenching dew descending at night's end.

  11. إِذا اِبتَسَمَت قُلتَ اِنكِلالُ غَمامَةٍ

    خَفى بَرقُها في عارِضٍ مُتَهَلِّلِ

    When she smiles, you would say: a cloud has parted,

    its lightning flashing in a radiant cloudbank.

  12. كَأَنَّ سَحيقَ المِسكِ خالَطَ طَعمَهُ

    وَريهَ الخُزامى في جَديدِ القَرَنفُلي

    As though powdered musk had mingled with its taste,

    and lavender's fragrance in fresh cloves,

  13. بِصَهباءِ دِرياقِ المُدامِ كَأَنَّها

    إِذا ما صَفا راوُوقُها ماءُ مَفصِلِ

    with tawny, antidotal aged wine, as though it were,

    when its filtered liquor clears, water from a rocky cleft.

  14. وَتَمشى عَلى بَرديَّتينِ غَذاهُما

    يَهاميمُ أَنهارٍ بِأَبطَحَ مُسهَلِ

    She walks on two papyrus reeds nourished

    by the deep, dark waters of rivers in a smooth, gravelly bed.

  15. مِنَ الحورِ مِخماصٌ كَأَنَّ وِشاحَها

    بِعُسلوجِ غابٍ بَينَ غيلٍ وَجَدوَلِ

    One of the wide-eyed beauties, slender-waisted, as though her sash

    were on a reed shoot between a thicket and a stream.

  16. قَليلَةُ إِزعاجِ الحَديثِ يَروعُها

    تَعالي الضُحى لَم تَنتَطِق عَن تَفَضُّلِ

    Little given to animated talk, she is startled

    by the advancing morning, her lounging robe still ungirdled.

  17. نَؤومُ الضُحى مَمكورَةُ الخَلقِ غادَةٌ

    هَضيمُ الحَشا حُسّانَهُ المُتَجَمَّلِ

    A late-morning sleeper, rounded in form, a tender young woman,

    slender-waisted, beautiful in her adorned appearance.

  18. فَأَمسَت أَحاديثَ الفُؤادِ وَهَمَّهُ

    وَإِن كانَ مِنها قَد غَدا لَم يُنَوَّلِ

    She became the heart's musings and its concern,

    though it had gone away from her unrewarded.

  19. وَقَد هاجَني مِنها عَلى النَأيِ دِمنَةٌ

    لَها بِقُدَيدٍ دونَ نَعفِ المَشَلَّل

    A remnant of her camp stirred me, despite the distance,

    hers at Qudayd, this side of al-Mashallal's spur.

  20. أَرادَت فَلَم تَسطِع كَلاماً فَأَومَأَت

    إِلَينا وَنَصَّت جيدَ أَحوَرَ مُغزِلِ

    She wished to speak but could not, so she gestured

    toward us, raising a neck like a dark-eyed gazelle with a fawn.

  21. فَقُلتُ لِأَصحابي اِربَعوا بَعضَ ساعَةٍ

    عَلَيَّ وَعوجوا مِن سَواهِمَ ذُبَّلِ

    I told my companions: 'Wait a little while

    for me, and turn aside with some lean, wasted mounts,

  22. قَليلاً فَقالوا إِنَّ أَمرَكَ طاعَةً

    لِما تَشتَهي فَاِقضِ الهَوى وَتَأَمَّلِ

    a little.' They said: 'Your command shall be obeyed

    in whatever you desire; fulfill your longing and gaze.

  23. لَكَ اليَومَ حَتّى اللَيلِ إِن شِئتَ فَأتِهِم

    وَصَدِّر غَداً وَكُلُّهُ غَيرُ مُعجَلِ

    The day is yours until night; if you wish, go to them,

    and depart tomorrow; all this is without haste.

  24. فَإِنّا عَلى أَن نُسعِفَ النَفسَ بِالهَوى

    حِراصٌ فَما حاوَلتَ مِن ذاكَ فَاِفعَلِ

    For we, in indulging the soul's desire,

    are eager; do whatever of this you seek.

  25. وَنَصُّ المَطايا في رِضاكِ وَحَبسُها

    لَكَ اليَومَ مَبذولٌ وَلَكِن تَجَمَّلِ

    Driving the mounts onward to please you, or holding them,

    is freely offered you today; but keep your dignity.'

  26. فَلَمّا رَأَيتُ الحَبسَ في رَسمِ مَنزِلٍ

    سِفاهاً وَجَهلاً بِالفُؤادِ المُوَكَّلِ

    When I saw that lingering at a dwelling's trace

    was folly and unreason for the love-bound heart,

  27. فَقُلتُ لَهُم سيروا فَإِنّا لِقاءَها

    تَوافي الحَجيجِ بَعدَ حَولٍ مُكَمَّلِ

    I told them: 'Travel on; our meeting with her

    will be when the pilgrims arrive, after a completed year.'

  28. فَما ذِكرُهُ شَنباءَ وَالدارُ غَربَةٌ

    عَنوجٌ وَإِن يُجمَع بِضُرٍّ وَيُنحَلِ

    Why should it remember Shanba, when her home is far away—

    that coquettish one—even if it is gripped by pain and wastes away?

  29. وَإِن تَنأَ تَحدُث لِلفُؤادِ زَمانَةٌ

    وَإِن تَقتَرِب تَعدُ العَوادي وَتَشغَلِ

    If she stays far away, a lasting sickness comes upon the heart;

    if she comes near, hindrances assail and distract.

  30. وَإِن يَحضُرِ الواشي تُطِعهُ وَإِن يَقُل

    بِها كاشِحٌ عِندي يُجَب ثُمَّ يُعزَلِ

    If a slanderer appears, she obeys him; but if

    a spiteful man speaks of her before me, he is answered, then dismissed.

  31. وَإِن تَعدُ لا تَحفِل وَإِن تَدنُ لا تَصِل

    وَإِن تَنأَ لا نَصبِر وَإِن تَدنُ أَجذَلِ

    If she promises, she pays no heed; if she draws near, she grants no union.

    If she goes far, we cannot endure it; if she draws near, I rejoice.

  32. وَإِن تَلتَمِس مِنّا المَوَدَّةَ نُعطِها

    وَإِن تَلتَمِس مِمّا لَدَيها تَعَلَّلِ

    If she seeks affection from us, we give it to her;

    if you seek any of what she has, she makes excuses.

  33. فَقَد طالَ لَو تَبكي إِلى مُتَجَوَّدٍ

    بُكاكَ إِلى شَنباءَ يا قَلبُ فَاِحتَلِ

    Long has it lasted—if only you wept to one who gives freely—

    your weeping to Shanba, O heart; contrive a way.

  34. أَفِق إِنَّما تَبكي إِلى مُتَمَنِّعٍ

    مِنَ البُخلِ مَألوسِ الخَليقَةِ حوَّلِ

    Awake! You only weep to one who holds herself aloof,

    through miserliness, disordered in nature and wily.

  35. فَقَد كادَ يَسلو القَلبُ عَنها وَمَن يَطُل

    عَلَيهِ التَنائِي وَالتَباعُدُ يَذهَلِ

    The heart has almost ceased longing for her; whoever long endures

    estrangement and distance grows forgetful.

  36. عَلى أَنَّهُ أَن يَلقَها بَعدَ غَيبَةٍ

    يَعُد لَكَ داءٌ عائِدٌ غَيرُ مُرسَلِ

    Yet if it meets her after an absence,

    a recurring illness returns to you, one that will not relent.

  37. فَإِنَّكِ لَو تَدرينَ أَن رُبَّ فِتيَةٍ

    عُجالى وَلَولا أَنتَ لَم أَتَعَجَّلِ

    For if you knew how many young men,

    hurrying—and but for you I would not have hurried—

  38. مَنَعتُهُمُ التَعريسَ حَتّى بَدا لَهُم

    قَوارِبُ مَعروفٍ مِنَ الصُبحِ مُنجَلِ

    I kept from resting at night until there appeared to them

    the first recognizable signs of the breaking dawn.

  39. يَنُصّونَ بِالمَوماةِ خَوصاً كَأَنَّها

    شَرائِحُ يَنعٍ أَو سَراءٍ مُعَطَّلِ

    They drive sunken-eyed mounts through the wilderness, as though they were

    slivers of ripened wood or bare sara branches,

  40. دِقاقاً بَراها السَيرُ مِنها مُنَعَّلُ ال

    سَريحِ وَواقٍ مِن حَفىً لَم يُنَعَّلِ

    slender, pared by travel; some shod with

    leather hoof-straps, others spared hoof-wear though unshod.

  41. وَأَضحوا جَميعاً تَعرِفُ العَينُ فيهِمُ

    كَرى النَومِ مُستَرخي العَمائِمِ مُيَّلِ

    At morning, in them all the eye could discern

    sleep's drowsiness, their turbans slack, themselves drooping,

  42. عَلى هَدَمٍ جَعدِ الثَرى ذي مَسافَةٍ

    مَخوفِ الرَدى عاري البَنائِقِ مُهمَلِ

    over broken country, rough-soiled, stretching far,

    where death is feared, its expanses bare and deserted.

  43. تَرى جِيَفَ الحيتانِ فيهِ كَأَنَّها

    حِيامٌ عَلى ماءٍ حَديثٍ مُنَهَّلِ

    You see fish carcasses there, as though they were

    thirsty camels at a fresh, newly opened watering place.

  44. إِرادَةَ أَن أَلقاكِ يا أَثلَ وَالهَوى

    كَذَلِكَ حَمّالُ الفَتى كُلَّ مَحمَلِ

    All from wishing to meet you, Athl; and love

    thus makes a young man carry every burden.

  45. فَبَعضَ البِعادِ يا أَثيلَ فَإِنَّني

    تَروكُ الهَوى عَنِ الهَوانِ بِمَعزِلِ

    Less estrangement, Athil, for I

    readily abandon love and keep far from humiliation.

  46. أَبى لِيَ عِرضي أَن أُضامَ وَصارِمٌ

    حُسامٌ وَعِزٌّ مِن حَديثٍ وَأَوَّلِ

    My honor forbids that I be wronged, and a sharp sword—

    a keen blade—and glory both new and ancestral,

  47. مُقيمٌ بِإِذنِ اللَهِ لَيسَ بِبارِحِ

    مَكانَ الثُرَيّا قاهِرٌ كُلَّ مَنزِلِ

    abiding by God's leave, never leaving

    the Pleiades' station, surpassing every station.

  48. أَقَرَّت مَعَدٌّ أَنَّنا خَيرُها جَدّي

    لِطالِبِ عُرفٍ أَو لِضَيفٍ مُحَمَّلِ

    Ma'add acknowledged that we are its best—my grandfather,

    for anyone seeking bounty or a burdened guest.

  49. مَقاويلُ بِالمَعروفِ خُرسٌ عَنِ الخَنا

    قُضاةٌ بِفَصلِ الحَقِّ في كُلِّ مَحفِلِ

    Eloquent in what is right, silent about obscenity,

    decisive judges of truth in every assembly.

  50. أَخوهُم إِلى حِصنٍ مَنيعٍ وَجارُهُم

    بِعَلياءِ عِزٍّ لَيسَ بِالمُتَذَلِّلِ

    Their brother has recourse to an impregnable fortress, and their neighbor

    stands on honor's heights, never humbled.

  51. وَفينا إِذا ما حادِثُ الدَهرِ أَجحَفَت

    نَوائِبُهُ وَالدَهرُ جَمُّ التَنَقُّلِ

    And among us, when a calamity of time deals crushing

    blows—and time is full of change—

  52. لِذي الغُرمِ أَعوانٌ وَبِالحَقِّ قائِلٌ

    وَلِلحَقِّ تَبّاعٌ وَلِلحَربِ مُصطَلِ

    are helpers for the indebted, and a speaker of truth,

    a devoted follower of truth, and one who braves war's fire,

  53. وَلِلخَيرِ كَسَّبٌ وَلِلمَجدِ رافِعٌ

    وَلِلحَمدِ أَعوانُ وَلِلخَيلِ مُعتَلِ

    one who earns good, and one who raises glory,

    helpers in winning praise, and a rider of horses.

  54. نُبيحُ حُصونَ مَن نُعادي وَحِصنُنا

    أَشَمُّ مَنيعٌ حَزنُهُ لَم يُسَهَّلِ

    We overrun the fortresses of those we oppose; our fortress

    is lofty and impregnable, its rough ground never smoothed.

  55. نَقودُ ذَليلاً مَن نُعادي وَقَرمُنا

    أَبيُّ القِيادِ مُصعَبٌ لَم يُذَلَّلِ

    We lead our foes in humiliation; our mighty bull-camel

    refuses the halter, unbroken, never subdued.

  56. نُفَلِّلُ أَنيابَ العَدوَّ وَنابُنا

    حَديدٌ شَديدٌ رَوقُهُ لَم يُفَلَّلِ

    We blunt the enemy's fangs, while our fang

    is sharp and strong, its point never blunted.

  57. أولَئِكَ آبائِي وَعِزّي وَمَعقِلي

    إِلَيهِم أُثَيلَ فَاِسأَلي أَيُّ مَعقِلِ

    Those are my forefathers, my glory and my refuge.

    To them, Uthayl—ask what a refuge they are!