أَما وَخَيالٍ قَد أَطافَ وَسَلَّما

أَما وَخَيالٍ قَد أَطافَ وَسَلَّما

لَقَد هاجَني وَجدٌ أَناخَ فَخَيَّما

لَقَد هاجَني وَجدٌ أَناخَ فَخَيَّما

Ah, by an apparition that visited and greeted me,

As imagination circled round and climbed,

longing has indeed stirred me, alighting and pitching its tent.

Passion stirred me with memories from time gone by,

وَأَذكَرَني عَهداً تَقادَمَ بِاللِوى

وَأَذكَرَني عَهداً تَقادَمَ بِاللِوى

وَعَصراً بَينَ الكَثيبِ إِلى الحِمى

وَعَصراً بَينَ الكَثيبِ إِلى الحِمى

It recalled for me a time long past at al-Liwa,

Of days we spent from dune to dune,

and an age between the dune and al-Hima.

When youth still pulsed and dreams were bright.

وَحَطَّ قِناعَ الصَبرِ وَاللَيلُ عاكِفٌ

وَحَطَّ قِناعَ الصَبرِ وَاللَيلُ عاكِفٌ

فَأَفصَحَ دَمعٌ كانَ بِالأَمسِ أَعجَما

فَأَفصَحَ دَمعٌ كانَ بِالأَمسِ أَعجَما

It lowered patience's veil while the night lingered,

Patience lost her veil in night’s embrace

so tears that yesterday were mute spoke plainly.

And tears that yesterday were mute found voice.

وَبِتُّ وَسِرّي راكِبٌ ظَهرَ مَدمَعٍ

وَبِتُّ وَسِرّي راكِبٌ ظَهرَ مَدمَعٍ

طَليقٍ إِذا ما أَنجَدَ الرَكبُ أَتهَما

طَليقٍ إِذا ما أَنجَدَ الرَكبُ أَتهَما

I spent the night, my secret riding the back of a tear-stream,

My secret burns, a rider on a streaming steed,

flowing freely down to Tihama when the caravan climbed to Najd.

Spurring ahead when the caravan regrets its pace.

أُناجي ظَلامَ اللَيلِ فيهِ بِلَوعَةٍ

أُناجي ظَلامَ اللَيلِ فيهِ بِلَوعَةٍ

تَحَدَّثَ عَنها الطَيرُ فَجراً فَهَينَما

تَحَدَّثَ عَنها الطَيرُ فَجراً فَهَينَما

Within the night I whisper to its darkness with a burning grief,

To the dark I whisper my despair

of which the birds spoke at dawn, murmuring softly.

In tones that at dawn set the birds atwitter.

وَأَسحَبُ أَذيالَ الدُجى فَيَهيجُني

وَأَسحَبُ أَذيالَ الدُجى فَيَهيجُني

حَمامٌ تَداعى سَحرَةً فَتَكَلَّما

حَمامٌ تَداعى سَحرَةً فَتَكَلَّما

I trail the hems of darkness, and am stirred

I draw the train of gloom and rouse me

by doves calling to one another before dawn, then speaking.

The dove’s soft murmurs in the hush before first light.

وَكُنتُ عَلى عَهدِ السُلُوِّ يَشوقُني

وَكُنتُ عَلى عَهدِ السُلُوِّ يَشوقُني

حُسامٌ تَغَنّى لاحَمامٌ تَرَنَّما

حُسامٌ تَغَنّى لاحَمامٌ تَرَنَّما

In my days of solace, what stirred my longing

Once clashing swords would stir me so,

was a singing sword, not a warbling dove.

Not cooing doves or ring of lutes.

أُغازِلُ مِن سَيفٍ تَأَلَّقَ صَفحَةً

أُغازِلُ مِن سَيفٍ تَأَلَّقَ صَفحَةً

وَأَلثُمُ مِن نَقعٍ أُزاحِمُهُ لَمى

وَأَلثُمُ مِن نَقعٍ أُزاحِمُهُ لَمى

I would court the face of a gleaming sword,

I flirt with flashing blade and stain my lips

and kiss the dark lips of dust I pressed through.

Crimson on the cup I seize in haste.

وَأَسري فَأَستَصفي مِنَ السَيفِ صاحِباً

وَأَسري فَأَستَصفي مِنَ السَيفِ صاحِباً

وَأَركَبُ مِن ظَهرِ الدُجُنَّةِ أَدهَما

وَأَركَبُ مِن ظَهرِ الدُجُنَّةِ أَدهَما

I would journey by night, choosing a sword for my companion,

I ride out and choose the sword's owner as my own,

and mount the back of darkness as a coal-black steed.

Mount the smokey steed and own the night.

وَأَصدَعُ أَحشاءَ الظَلامِ بِفِتيَةٍ

وَأَصدَعُ أَحشاءَ الظَلامِ بِفِتيَةٍ

مَواكِبَ مِنها أَنجَمَ اللَيلُ أَنجُما

مَواكِبَ مِنها أَنجَمَ اللَيلُ أَنجُما

I would cleave the innards of darkness with young men,

I pierce the darkness’ heart with gallant youths,

in cavalcades from which the night brought forth stars.

A cavalcade whose stars the night’s sky lit.

أَذَعتُ بِهِم سِرَّ الصَباحِ وَإِنَّما

أَذَعتُ بِهِم سِرَّ الصَباحِ وَإِنَّما

سَرَرتُ بِهِم لَيلَ السُرى فَتَبَسَّما

سَرَرتُ بِهِم لَيلَ السُرى فَتَبَسَّما

Through them I revealed dawn's secret; I had merely

I spread the secret of the dawning with their aid

gladdened the night of journeying with them, and it smiled.

But only reveled with them to delight the dark.

وَقَد كَتَمتَهُم أَضلُعُ البيدِ ضِنَّةً

وَقَد كَتَمتَهُم أَضلُعُ البيدِ ضِنَّةً

وَلَم يَكُ سُرُّ المَجدِ إِلّا لِيُكتَما

وَلَم يَكُ سُرُّ المَجدِ إِلّا لِيُكتَما

The ribs of the deserts had hidden them jealously,

Bosoms hid them jealously from all save me,

and glory's secret was meant only to be concealed.

For glory’s secret was disclosed to none but me.

فَبِتنا وَبحرُ اللَيلِ مُلتَطِمٌ بِنا

فَبِتنا وَبحرُ اللَيلِ مُلتَطِمٌ بِنا

نَرى العيسَ غَرقى وَالكَواكِبَ عُوَّما

نَرى العيسَ غَرقى وَالكَواكِبَ عُوَّما

So we spent the night as night's sea surged around us,

We passed the night on seas tempestuous,

seeing pale camels submerged and the stars swimming.

Saw Pleiades drowned while stars floated on.

وَقَد نَثَرَت مِنها قِسِيّاً يَدُ السُرى

وَقَد نَثَرَت مِنها قِسِيّاً يَدُ السُرى

وَفَوَّقَ مِنّا فَوقَهَا المَجدُ أَسهُما

وَفَوَّقَ مِنّا فَوقَهَا المَجدُ أَسهُما

The hand of night-travel had scattered bows from among them,

Destiny's hand did choose and scatter them,

and glory nocked arrows from among us upon them.

And glory's arrow narrowly missed its mark.

سَحَبتُ الدُجى مِنها بِأَعنَسَ ضامِرٍ

سَحَبتُ الدُجى مِنها بِأَعنَسَ ضامِرٍ

رَمَيتُ بِهِ رُكنَ الدُجى فَتَهَدَّما

رَمَيتُ بِهِ رُكنَ الدُجى فَتَهَدَّما

I dragged darkness with a lean, sturdy camel from among them,

I drew the train of gloom with a recalcitrant camel,

I hurled him at darkness's pillar, and it crumbled.

And with it shot the bastion of darkness into dust.

يُقَلِّبُ طَرفاً في الكَواكِبِ سامِياً

يُقَلِّبُ طَرفاً في الكَواكِبِ سامِياً

كَأَنَّ بِهِ تَحتَ الظَلامِ مُنَجِّما

كَأَنَّ بِهِ تَحتَ الظَلامِ مُنَجِّما

He turned his gaze among the stars, lifting it high,

My roving glance surveys the heavens' expanse

as though he carried an astrologer beneath the darkness.

As though it pierced the gloom with studying gaze.

وَمِن عَجَبٍ أَنّي أَرى القَوسَ مُنحَنىً

وَمِن عَجَبٍ أَنّي أَرى القَوسَ مُنحَنىً

بِهِ في يَدِ البَيداءِ وَالسَهمَ مُرتَمى

بِهِ في يَدِ البَيداءِ وَالسَهمَ مُرتَمى

And it is a marvel that I see the bow bent

In wonder I behold the bow bent crescent-wise

in him, in the desert's hand, and the arrow launched.

By her hand while arrows speed forth uncontrolled.

وَجاذَبَني رَجعَ الحَنينِ عَلى السُرى

وَجاذَبَني رَجعَ الحَنينِ عَلى السُرى

كَأَنَّ لَهُ قَلباً هُناكَ مُتَيَّما

كَأَنَّ لَهُ قَلباً هُناكَ مُتَيَّما

He exchanged with me echoes of longing on the night journey,

Yearning for the past tugs me to that abode

as though he had a heart there enslaved by love.

As though it had a heart that pined for me.

وَيُطرِبُهُ سَجعُ الحَمامَةِ بِالضُحى

وَيُطرِبُهُ سَجعُ الحَمامَةِ بِالضُحى

فَيَلوي إِلَيها لَيتَهُ مُتَفَهِّما

فَيَلوي إِلَيها لَيتَهُ مُتَفَهِّما

The dove's cooing delights him at midmorning,

The dove’s song at dawn excites it

so he turns his neck toward her, seeking to understand.

And makes it twist and turn to understand.

وَما كانَ يَدري ما الحَنينُ عَلى النَوى

وَما كانَ يَدري ما الحَنينُ عَلى النَوى

وَلَكِنَّني أَعدَيتَهُ فَتَعَلَّما

وَلَكِنَّني أَعدَيتَهُ فَتَعَلَّما

He had never known what longing in separation was,

But how could it know what yearning for one’s homeland means?

but I infected him with it, and he learned.

I made it thus—it merely learned from me.

فَما عاجَ بي وَجدٌ عَلى رَسمِ مَنزِلٍ

فَما عاجَ بي وَجدٌ عَلى رَسمِ مَنزِلٍ

فَأَعوَلتُ إِلّا حَنَّ وَجداً فَأَرزَما

فَأَعوَلتُ إِلّا حَنَّ وَجداً فَأَرزَما

Never did longing turn me aside to a dwelling's traces,

Passion for that strange encampment makes me rave

so that I wailed, without his yearning and groaning with longing.

But only a passion as profound as mine can appreciate.

وَما هاجَني إِلّا تَأَلُّقُ بارِقٍ

وَما هاجَني إِلّا تَأَلُّقُ بارِقٍ

لَبِستُ بِهِ بُردَ الدُجُنَّةِ مُعلَما

لَبِستُ بِهِ بُردَ الدُجُنَّةِ مُعلَما

Nothing stirred me but the gleam of lightning,

It was the flashing of lightning playing round me

with which I wore a patterned mantle of darkness.

That clothed me in the mantle of the dark-faced steed.

تَلَوّى هُدُوّاً يَستَطيرُ كَأَنَّما

تَلَوّى هُدُوّاً يَستَطيرُ كَأَنَّما

أَروعُ بِهِ مِن سُدفَةِ اللَيلِ أَرقَما

أَروعُ بِهِ مِن سُدفَةِ اللَيلِ أَرقَما

It writhed in the stillness, darting, as though

It writhed and darted like an elusive mirage,

I were startling with it a speckled snake from night's gloom.

Dazzling me more than the darkest night.

إِذا خَطَّ سَطراً بَينَ عَينَيَّ مُذهَباً

إِذا خَطَّ سَطراً بَينَ عَينَيَّ مُذهَباً

تَدارَكَهُ قَطرُ الدُموعِ فَأَعجَما

تَدارَكَهُ قَطرُ الدُموعِ فَأَعجَما

Whenever it traced a gilded line between my eyes,

When it traces a line of gold before my eyes

drops of tears caught up with it and dotted it.

My overflowing tears blot its trail.

حَمَلتُ لَهُ قَلباً جَباناً وَمدمَعاً

حَمَلتُ لَهُ قَلباً جَباناً وَمدمَعاً

شُجاعاً إِذا ما أَحجَمَ الصَبرُ صَمَّما

شُجاعاً إِذا ما أَحجَمَ الصَبرُ صَمَّما

I bore for it a cowardly heart and a tear-stream,

I carried it a coward’s heart and tearful eyes

brave, pressing on whenever patience drew back.

Brave only when forbearance can withstand no more.

وَياعَجَباً لي كَيفَ أَجبُنُ في الهَوى

وَياعَجَباً لي كَيفَ أَجبُنُ في الهَوى

وَإِنّي لَمِقدامٌ إِذا الذِمرُ أَحجَما

وَإِنّي لَمِقدامٌ إِذا الذِمرُ أَحجَما

How strange for me—how can I be cowardly in love,

How strange that I’m a coward in passion’s throes

though I am surely bold when the valiant warrior draws back?

When I’m a warrior if the fight is on.

فَها أَنا أَغشى مَوقِفَ البَينِ وَالوَغى

فَها أَنا أَغشى مَوقِفَ البَينِ وَالوَغى

فَتَندى جُفوني عَبرَةً وَيَدي دَما

فَتَندى جُفوني عَبرَةً وَيَدي دَما

Here I enter the field of parting and of battle,

So here I stand overwhelmed at parting’s station,

my eyelids wet with tears, my hand with blood.

My eyes rain tears while blood drips from my hands,

وَإِلّا فَهَذا غَربُ سَيفي مُثَلَّماً

وَإِلّا فَهَذا غَربُ سَيفي مُثَلَّماً

بِكَفّي وَهَذا صَدرُ رُمحي مُحَطَّما

بِكَفّي وَهَذا صَدرُ رُمحي مُحَطَّما

If not, here is my sword's edge, notched,

Else here my sword hangs idle in its sheath

in my palm, and here is my spear's head, shattered.

And there my spearhead shattered by my grasp.

فَيا رُبَّ وَضّاحِ المَحاسِنِ أَشقَرٍ

فَيا رُبَّ وَضّاحِ المَحاسِنِ أَشقَرٍ

رَمَيتُ بِهِ الهَيجا وَقَد فَغَرَت فَما

رَمَيتُ بِهِ الهَيجا وَقَد فَغَرَت فَما

Ah, many a radiant-featured chestnut steed

O matchless one whose beauty ignited passion,

have I hurled into battle when it gaped its mouth wide,

I shot my fire arrows till your mouth gaped wide,

وَبَحرِ حَديدٍ قَد تَلاطَمَ أَخضَرٍ

وَبَحرِ حَديدٍ قَد تَلاطَمَ أَخضَرٍ

إِذا عَصَفَت ريحُ الجِلادِ بِهِ طَمى

إِذا عَصَفَت ريحُ الجِلادِ بِهِ طَمى

and into a green sea of iron with crashing waves,

A sea of blades clashing green when winds of war

surging when the wind of sword-fighting raged upon it.

Whipped up its depths and stirred the tumult high.

أَبى عِزُّ نَفسٍ أَن يَجولُ فَيُجتَلى

أَبى عِزُّ نَفسٍ أَن يَجولُ فَيُجتَلى

وَأَشرَفَ هادٍ أَن يُنالَ فَيُلجَما

وَأَشرَفَ هادٍ أَن يُنالَ فَيُلجَما

His proud spirit refused to circle and be gazed upon,

But noble spirit scorns to be tested and tried,

and his neck towered too high to be reached and bridled.

And lofty soul disdains to be restrained.

جَرى الحُسنُ ماءً فَوقَهُ غَيرَ أَنَّهُ

جَرى الحُسنُ ماءً فَوقَهُ غَيرَ أَنَّهُ

إِذا ماجَرى نارُ الغَضا مُتَضَرِّما

إِذا ماجَرى نارُ الغَضا مُتَضَرِّما

Beauty flowed like water over him, except that

Beauty flowed like water with hidden fire beneath,

when he ran, he was ghada-wood fire, blazing.

Searing hot when stirred to rage.

عَدا فَاِستَنارَ البَرقُ لَوناً وَسُرعَةً

عَدا فَاِستَنارَ البَرقُ لَوناً وَسُرعَةً

وَغَبَّرَ في وَجهِ النَهارِ فَغَيَّما

وَغَبَّرَ في وَجهِ النَهارِ فَغَيَّما

He galloped, and lightning shone forth in color and speed,

Lightning flashed radiant in its speed and hue

and he raised dust in day's face, clouding it over,

Then darkened daylight’s face with clouds.

بِيَومٍ أَراني البَرقَ أَحمَرَ قانِياً

بِيَومٍ أَراني البَرقَ أَحمَرَ قانِياً

بِهِ وَاِستَطارَ النَقعُ أَربَدَ أَقتَما

بِهِ وَاِستَطارَ النَقعُ أَربَدَ أَقتَما

on a day that showed me lightning deep crimson

One day it showed me red, triumphant, blest,

within it, while dust flew up, dusky gray and dark.

While the cloud’s gloom parted to reveal its secret best.

تَرى الطِرفَ مِنهُ كُلَّما خاضَ هَبوَةً

تَرى الطِرفَ مِنهُ كُلَّما خاضَ هَبوَةً

مُحِلّاً وَتَلقى الصارِمَ العَضبَ مَحرِما

مُحِلّاً وَتَلقى الصارِمَ العَضبَ مَحرِما

You see the noble steed emerge from it whenever he plunges into a dust-cloud,

Ever its gaze stokes fierce fires when it engages,

out of ritual consecration, while you find the keen, cutting sword consecrated.

Bearing naked blades that make the bravest fear.