1. أَعَرفتَ أَطلالَ الرُسّومِ تَنَكَّرَت

    بَعدي وبُدِّلَ آيهُنَّ دُثورا

    Do you recognize the ruined traces, grown strange

    since I left, their landmarks turned to desolation?

  2. وَتَبدَّلَت بَعدَ الأَنيسِ بِأَهلِها

    عُفراً بواغِمَ يَرتَعينَ وُعورا

    After human company, it has replaced its people

    with tawny, softly calling gazelles grazing rugged ground—

  3. مِن كُلِّ مُصيبَةِ الحَديثِ تَرى لَها

    كَفَلاً كَرابيَةِ الكَثيبِ وَثيرا

    in place of each woman deft in conversation, in whom you see

    a soft, full rump like the rise of a sand dune.

  4. دَع ذا وَلَكِن هَل رَأَيتَ ظَعائِناً

    قَرَّبنَ أَجمالاً لَهُنَّ بُكورا

    Leave that aside—but have you seen the departing women,

    who brought their camels forward at early dawn?

  5. قَرَّبنَ كُلَّ مُخَيَّسٍ مُتَحَمِّلٍ

    بُزلاً تُشَبِّهُ هامَهُنَّ قُبورا

    They brought forward every tamed, burden-bearing camel—

    full-grown camels whose heads you liken to graves.

  6. يَفتِنَّ لا يَأَلونَ كُلَّ مُغَفَّلٍ

    يَملَأنَهُ بِحَدِيثِهِنَّ سُرورا

    They bewitch every unwary man, sparing no effort;

    they fill him with joy through their conversation.

  7. يا دارُ حَسَّرها البِلى تَحسيرا

    وَسَفَت عَلَيها الريحُ بَعدَكِ بورا

    O dwelling, utterly stripped bare by decay,

    and since you left, the wind has strewn barren waste upon it.

  8. دَقَّ التُرابُ نَخيلَهُ فَمُخَيِّمٌ

    بِعِراصِها وَمُسَيِّرٌ تَسييرا

    The dust has ground its sifted grains fine: some lies encamped

    in its open courts, and some is driven onward.

  9. يا رَبعَ بِشرَةَ إِن أَضَرَّ بِكَ البِلى

    فَلَقَد عَهِدتُكَ آهِلا مَعمورا

    O campsite of Bishra, if decay has ravaged you,

    yet I once knew you inhabited and flourishing.

  10. عَقَبَ الرَذاذُ خِلافَهُم فَكَأَنَّما

    بَسَطَ الشَواطِبُ بَينَهُنَّ حَصيرا

    Drizzle followed in their wake, as though

    the palm-leaf weavers had spread a mat among them.

  11. إِن يُمسِ حَبلُكِ بَعدَ طول تَواصُلٍ

    خَلَقاً وَيُصبِح بَيتُكُم مَهجورا

    If evening finds your cord, after long closeness,

    worn, and morning finds your house deserted,

  12. فَلَقَد أَراني والجَديدُ إِلى بِلىً

    زَمَناً بِوَصلِكِ قانِعاً مَسرورا

    yet I remember myself—all that is new passes into decay—

    for a time, content and joyful in union with you,

  13. جَدِلاً بِمالي عِندَكُم لا أَبتَغي

    لِلنَفسِ غَيرَكِ خُلَّةً وَعَشيرا

    steadfast in what I had with you, seeking

    no intimate friend or companion for myself but you.

  14. كُنتِ المُنى وَأَعزَّ مَن وَطيءَ الحَصى

    عِندي وَكُنتُ بِذاكَ مِنكِ جَديرا

    You were my heart’s desire, and dearest of all who trod the pebbles

    in my eyes; and I deserved the same from you.