أَلا أَيُّها الرَبعُ الَّذي خَفَّ أَهلُهُ

أَلا أَيُّها الرَبعُ الَّذي خَفَّ أَهلُهُ

وَأَمسى خَلاءً مُوحِشاً غَيرَ آهِلِ

وَأَمسى خَلاءً مُوحِشاً غَيرَ آهِلِ

Ah, O campsite whose people have departed,

O quarter that has seen its people leave,

and which has become empty, desolate, uninhabited!

And become empty and desolate without inhabitants,

هَلَ أَنتَ مُنَبّى أَينَ أَهلُكَ ذا هَوى

هَلَ أَنتَ مُنَبّى أَينَ أَهلُكَ ذا هَوى

وَأَنتَ خَبيرٌ لَو نَطَقتَ لِسائِلِ

وَأَنتَ خَبيرٌ لَو نَطَقتَ لِسائِلِ

Will you tell a lover where your people are?

Are you a refuge? Where are your people of passion?

And you know well—if only you would speak to an inquirer.

You know, even if silent to the questioner,

لِعِرّانَ سارُوا أَم لِحَربٍ تَيَمَّمُوا

لِعِرّانَ سارُوا أَم لِحَربٍ تَيَمَّمُوا

لَكَ الوَيلُ أَم حَلُّوُا بِقَرنِ المَنازِلِ

لَكَ الوَيلُ أَم حَلُّوُا بِقَرنِ المَنازِلِ

Did they journey to ʿIrrān, or make for Ḥarb?

Did they travel to exhibit themselves? Or set out for war?

Woe to you! Or did they settle at Qarn al-Manāzil?

Woe to you! Or have they moved on to other dwellings?

وَأَيَّ بِلادِ اللَهِ حَلُّوا فَإِنَّني

وَأَيَّ بِلادِ اللَهِ حَلُّوا فَإِنَّني

عَلى العَهدِ راعٍ لِلخَليطِ المَزايِلِ

عَلى العَهدِ راعٍ لِلخَليطِ المَزايِلِ

And whichever of God's lands they have settled in, I

To which of God's lands have they moved? For I

remain true to the pledge, mindful of the companions who have parted.

Am still a shepherd to the mixed common folk.

فَقالَ رَفيقي ما الوُقُوفُ بِمَنزِلٍ

فَقالَ رَفيقي ما الوُقُوفُ بِمَنزِلٍ

وَنُؤىٍ كَعِنوانِ الصَحِيفَةِ ماثِلِ

وَنُؤىٍ كَعِنوانِ الصَحِيفَةِ ماثِلِ

Then my companion said, “Why stand at a dwelling

My friend said: What is this standing still in an abode,

and a trench still visible, like the heading on a page,

Like a title page left barren?

بِنَعفِ اللِوى قَد غَيَّرَ القَطرُ عَهدَهُ

بِنَعفِ اللِوى قَد غَيَّرَ القَطرُ عَهدَهُ

مَعَ المُورِ أَو نَسجُ الصَبا وَالشَمائِلِ

مَعَ المُورِ أَو نَسجُ الصَبا وَالشَمائِلِ

on al-Liwā's slope, whose familiar traces rain has altered,

The downpour has changed its promise to the meadows,

with windblown dust—or by the weaving of the east and north winds?

Along with the rains or the weaving of the whirlwinds.

تَعاوَرَهُ العَصرانِ حَتّى كَأَنَّما

تَعاوَرَهُ العَصرانِ حَتّى كَأَنَّما

يُغَربَلُ أَعلى تُربِهِ بِالمَناخِلِ

يُغَربَلُ أَعلى تُربِهِ بِالمَناخِلِ

Night and day have worked upon it by turns, until it seems

The two ages have alternated upon it until it seems

its surface soil is being sifted through sieves;

As if the top of its earth is sifted through the sieves.

وَكُلُّ هَزيمِ الرَعدِ جَونٍ مُجَلجِلٍ

وَكُلُّ هَزيمِ الرَعدِ جَونٍ مُجَلجِلٍ

لَهُ هَيدَبٌ دانٍ مِن الأَرضِ هاطِلِ

لَهُ هَيدَبٌ دانٍ مِن الأَرضِ هاطِلِ

and so has every dark cloud with crashing, rumbling thunder,

And each rumble of thunder is a churning, rumbling

with a fringe of pouring rain hanging close to the earth.

Cloud that has a creeping serpent extending from the ground.

فَلَستَ وَلَو أَنباكَ عَمَّن سَأَلتَهُ

فَلَستَ وَلَو أَنباكَ عَمَّن سَأَلتَهُ

سِوى حَزَنٍ مِنهُم طَويلٍ بِنائِلِ

سِوى حَزَنٍ مِنهُم طَويلٍ بِنائِلِ

For even if it told you of those you asked it about,

So even if you call out, except for prolonged

you would gain from them nothing but lasting grief.

Sorrow, you will get no answer from those you ask.

فَكُن حازِماً وَامنَح وَصالَكَ وَاصِلاً

فَكُن حازِماً وَامنَح وَصالَكَ وَاصِلاً

لَكَ الخَيرُ وَاصرم حَبلَ مَن لَم يُواصِلِ

لَكَ الخَيرُ وَاصرم حَبلَ مَن لَم يُواصِلِ

So be resolute, and give your affection to one who returns it;

So be resolute, connect and make your visit a joining,

may good be yours! And sever the cord of whoever does not reciprocate.”

Goodness to you. And cut off whoever does not reciprocate.

فَقُلتُ لَهُ حُبُّ القَتُولِ وَتِربِها

فَقُلتُ لَهُ حُبُّ القَتُولِ وَتِربِها

رُضَيّا وَرَبِّ العَرشِ يا صاحِ قاتِلي

رُضَيّا وَرَبِّ العَرشِ يا صاحِ قاتِلي

Then I said to him, “Love of al-Qatūl and her age-mate,

I said to him: The love of killing and its dust,

Ruḍayyā—by the Lord of the Throne, my friend—is my slayer.

Contentment. And Lord of the Throne, O killer of me,

رُضَيّا رَمَت قَلبي فَلَم تَشوِ إِذ رَمَت

رُضَيّا رَمَت قَلبي فَلَم تَشوِ إِذ رَمَت

وَلَم تَرمِ مِن قَلبي قُلُوبَ الزَوائِلِ

وَلَم تَرمِ مِن قَلبي قُلُوبَ الزَوائِلِ

Ruḍayyā shot at my heart and did not miss the vital spot when she shot,

Contentment. It has shot my heart but did not pass through

nor did she shoot at the hearts of fleeing game instead of mine,

And did not shoot the hearts of the fickle ones.

بِعَيني مَهاةٍ لا بِقَوسٍ وَأَسهُمٍ

بِعَيني مَهاةٍ لا بِقَوسٍ وَأَسهُمٍ

وَلا نَبلَ أَدهى مِن عُيُوِ العَقائِلِ

وَلا نَبلَ أَدهى مِن عُيُوِ العَقائِلِ

with a female oryx's eyes, not with a bow and arrows.

With the glance of death, not with a bow and arrows,

And no arrows are deadlier than noble women's eyes.

Nor an arrow more painful than the twisting of souls.

لِمَن بَعدَها أَهوى القَوافي وَأَمتَطي

لِمَن بَعدَها أَهوى القَوافي وَأَمتَطي

جَوادي وَأَعصي لأَماتِ العَواذِلِ

جَوادي وَأَعصي لأَماتِ العَواذِلِ

For whom after her shall I love rhymes and mount

For whom after her I love rhymed prose and mount

my steed, and defy the reproaches of the reproving women,

My steed and resist the slaying of the virgins.

وَأَسرى إِذا ما ذُو الهَوى هالَهُ السُرى

وَأَسرى إِذا ما ذُو الهَوى هالَهُ السُرى

وَأُعمِلُ لَيلَ الناجِياتِ اليَعامِلِ

وَأُعمِلُ لَيلَ الناجِياتِ اليَعامِلِ

and travel by night when night travel frightens a lover,

And I travel, when the beloved of passion makes me travel,

and drive the swift, sturdy she-camels by night,

And I stay up late, under the working starry nights,

وَأَبكي مَع القَمريِّ ذي الشَجو بِالضُحى

وَأَبكي مَع القَمريِّ ذي الشَجو بِالضُحى

إِذا هَتَفَ القُمرِيُّ أَو بِالأَصائِلِ

إِذا هَتَفَ القُمرِيُّ أَو بِالأَصائِلِ

and weep with the sorrowful ringdove at midmorning,

And I weep, in the early daybreak, with the lovesick one, the moon,

when the ringdove calls, or in the late afternoons?”

When the moon calls before dawn or at nightfall.