وَدَهماءَ تُرسيها رَقاشٌ إِذا شَتَت

وَدَهماءَ تُرسيها رَقاشٌ إِذا شَتَت

مُرَكَّبَةُ الآذانِ أُمُّ عِيالِ

مُرَكَّبَةُ الآذانِ أُمُّ عِيالِ

And a black pot Raqash sets in place when winter comes,

A pot with handle patched when pots were smashed,

And a blackened pot that Raqash sets up when winter falls,

Fitted with ears, a mother to a brood.

Its ears embellished, mother of household.

Fitted with handles, a mother to her dependents,

يَغَصَّ بِحَيزومِ الجَرادَةِ صَدرُها

يَغَصَّ بِحَيزومِ الجَرادَةِ صَدرُها

وَيُنضِجُ ما فيها اتِّقادُ ذُبالِ

وَيُنضِجُ ما فيها اتِّقادُ ذُبالِ

Its breast chokes on a locust's thorax,

Her breast constricts around the locust’s throat;

Its breast is so narrow it would choke on the chest of a locust,

And the burning of wicks cooks what is inside it.

Her contents, from the kindling, boil and roast.

And the mere burning of a wick cooks what lies within.

وَتَغلي بِذِكرِ النارِ مِن غَيرِ حَرِّها

وَتَغلي بِذِكرِ النارِ مِن غَيرِ حَرِّها

وَيُنزِلُها الطاهي بِغَيرِ جِعالِ

وَيُنزِلُها الطاهي بِغَيرِ جِعالِ

And it boils at the mention of fire, without its heat,

She simmers at the mention of the fire—no need

It boils at the mention of fire, without its heat,

And the cook removes it without a pot-holder.

For fuel—and the cook extracts her without fee.

And the cook lifts it down without need of a cloth.

وَلَو جِئتَها مَلأى عَبيطاً مُجَزَّلاً

وَلَو جِئتَها مَلأى عَبيطاً مُجَزَّلاً

لَأَخرَجتَ ما فيها بِعودِ خِلالِ

لَأَخرَجتَ ما فيها بِعودِ خِلالِ

And even if you came upon it full of fresh meat cut into large chunks,

If you brought her stuffed full, though cracked and old,

And were you to come to it when full of fresh, carved meat,

You would take out what it holds with a toothpick.

With a stick of wormwood, she would still unfold

You could extract all its contents with a toothpick.

هِيَ القِدرُ قِدرُ الشَيخِ بَكرِ بنِ وائِلٍ

هِيَ القِدرُ قِدرُ الشَيخِ بَكرِ بنِ وائِلٍ

رَبيعِ اليَتامى عامَ كُلِّ هُزالِ

رَبيعِ اليَتامى عامَ كُلِّ هُزالِ

It is the pot—the pot of the elder Bakr ibn Wa'il,

All her contents. She is Sheikh Bekr's pot—

It is the pot, the very pot of the Sheikh Bakr bin Wa'il,

The orphans' springtime in every lean year.

In the year of famine, a refuge for each lost child.

The spring for orphans in the year of every famine.