1. أَمِنْ دِمَنٍ بِشاجِنَة ٍ الحَجُونِ

    عفَتْ منهَا المعارفُ منذُ حينِ

    Is it for camp-traces in a ravine of al-Ḥajūn,

    whose familiar landmarks vanished long ago,

  2. وضَنَّتْ بِالكَلامِ، ولَمْ تَكَلَّمْ

    بَكَيْتَ، وكَيْفَ تَبْكِي لِلضَّنِينِ

    which begrudged speech and did not speak,

    that you wept? How can you weep for one who withholds?

  3. ونَدَّى المَاءُ جَفْنَ العَيْنِ حَتَّى

    ترقرقَ، ثمَّ فاضَ منَ الجفونِ

    The tears moistened the eyelid until

    they shimmered, then overflowed from the lids,

  4. كَما هَمَلَتْ وسَالَ مِنَ الأَوَاتي

    دُمُوعُ النِّكْسِ مِنْ وَشَلٍ مَعِينِ

    as they poured forth and flowed from the watercourses—

    the feeble one's tears, from a small, flowing spring.

  5. مَنَازِلُ مَا تَرَى الأَنْصَابَ فِيها

    ولا حُفَرَ المُبَليِّ لِلْمَنُونِ

    Dwellings where you see no sacrificial stones,

    nor pits dug by one leaving beasts to Death,

  6. ولاَ أَثَرَ الدَّوَارِ ولاَ المَآلِي

    ولكِنْ قَدْ تَرَى أُرَبَ الحُصُونِ

    nor traces of al-Duwār, nor mourning-cloths;

    yet you can see remnants of fortifications.

  7. عفَتْ إلاَّ أياصرَ أوْ نئيَّاً

    محافرهُا كأسرية ِ الإيضينِ

    They have vanished, save for tethers or a tent-trench,

    their excavations like woven strips of girths [uncertain reading].

  8. وأخرجَ، أمُّهُ لسواسِ سلمى

    لِمَعْفُورِ الضَّرَا ضَرِمِ الجَنينِ

    And a pied beast—its dam, for Salmā's sawās thickets [unclear]—

    for one dust-covered in its shelter, its unborn young fiercely stirring [unclear].

  9. تنكَّرَ رسمُها إلاَّ بقايا

    جلاَ عنهَا جدَا همعٍ هتونِ

    Its traces had become unrecognizable, save remnants

    laid bare by the bounty of abundant, pouring rain,

  10. كَآثَارِ النَّؤُورِ لَهُ دُخَانٌ

    أسفَّ متونَ مقترحٍ رصينِ

    like marks of tattoo-soot whose smoke

    swept low over the surfaces of firm, untouched ground.

  11. كَأَنَّ حُطَامَ قَيْضِ الصَّيْفِ فِيهِ

    فَرَاشُ صَمِيمِ أَقْحافِ الشُّؤُونِ

    As though the shattered summer eggshells there

    were fragments of the solid skull-bones along their sutures.

  12. وقفتُ بها فهيضَ جوى ً أطاعَتْ

    لَهُ زَفرَاتُ مُغْتَرِبٍ حَزِينِ

    I stood there, and heartache was stirred, answered

    by the sighs of a sorrowful exile.

  13. أشتَّ بأهلِهِ صرفُ اللَّيالي

    فأضحَى وهوَ منجذمُ القرينِ

    The changes of night had scattered his people,

    leaving him severed from his companion.

  14. ويومِ ظعائنٍ علَّلتُ نفسي

    بهنذَ على مواشكة ٍ ذقونِ

    And on a day of departing women I consoled myself

    with them, on a swift, chin-thrusting she-camel,

  15. مبرزَّة ٍ إذا أيدي المطايا

    شدتْ بقباضة ٍ، وثنتْ بلينِ

    outstripping the others when the mounts' forelegs

    drove forward with a firm grip and bent with suppleness.

  16. ظَعَائِنُ كُنْتُ أَعْهَدُهُنَّ قِدْماً

    وهنَّ لذي الأمانة ِ غيرُ خونِ

    Women in litters whom I had known of old,

    never betraying one who trusted them,

  17. حسانُ مواضعِ النُّقبِ الأعالي

    غراثُ الوشحِ، صامتة ُ البرينِ

    lovely at the sites of their upper piercings,

    slender beneath their sashes, their anklets silent,

  18. طِوَالُ مَشَكِّ أَعْنَاقِ الهَوَادِي

    نَوَاعِمُ بَيْنَ أبْكَارٍ وعُونِ

    long in the necks that join their shoulders,

    soft and tender, some maidens, some mature.

  19. يُسَارِقْنَ الكَلامَ إِليَّ لَمَّا

    حَسِسْنَ حِذارَ مُرْتَقِبٍ شَفُونِ

    They stole words to me when

    they sensed danger from a keen-eyed watcher.

  20. كأنَّ الخيمَ هاجَ إليَّ منهُ

    نعاجُ صرائمٍ حمِّ القرونِ

    As though the tents had roused toward me from within

    wild cows of isolated sands, with jet-black horns,

  21. عقائلُ رملة ٍ نازعنَ منها

    دفوقَ أقاحِ معهودٍ ودينِ

    choice beasts of a dune, cropping from it

    lush daisies on rain-favored, moistened ground,

  22. خِلاطَ أَكُفِّ شُقَّارَى احْتَشَتْها

    ملمَّعة ُ الشَّوَى بيضُ البطونِ

    among the palm-like shuqārā blooms they grazed—

    dappled of limb and white of belly.

  23. فلمَّا أنْ رأينَ القولَ حالتْ

    حَوَائِمُ يَتَّخِذْنَ الغِبَّ رِفْهاً

    When they perceived what was said, they turned aside.

    Circling water-seekers, they count drinking every other day a luxury.

  24. نقبنَ وصاوصاً حذرَ الغيارَى

    إليَّ منَ الهوادجِ للعيونِ

    Fearing jealous watchers, they made little peepholes

    for their eyes toward me from their litters.

  25. نَطَقْنَ بِحَاجَة ٍ، وَطَوَيْنَ أُخْرَى

    كطيِّ كرائمِ البزِّ المصونِ

    They voiced one need and folded away another,

    as precious, well-guarded fabrics are folded.

  26. بمقتنصِ الهوَى وصَّلنَ منهُ

    معاتبَ نقَّبتْ قصبَ الوتينِ

    With a snare for love, they sent from it

    reproaches that pierced the channel of the aorta.

  27. بِعَيْنِكَ وَدَّعَتْ في القَلْبِ...

    وداعَ صريمة ٍ لفراقِ حينِ

    Before your eyes she bade farewell, within the heart...

    the farewell of one resolved on parting for a time.

  28. بِذِي ذِئْبٍ يَنُوسُ بِجَانِبَيْهِ

    عَثَاكِلُ مِنْ أَكَالِيلِ العُهُونِ

    On a saddle with a projecting bow, at whose sides sway

    tassels of garlands made from dyed wool,

  29. أحمِّ سوادِ أعلى اللَّونِ منهُ

    كَلَوْنِ سَرَاة ِ ثُعبَانِ العَرِينِ

    deep-black, its upper coloring

    like the color of the back of a snake in its lair.

  30. تخيَّرَ منْ سرارة ِ أثلِ حجرٍ

    ولاحكَ بينَهُ نحتُ القيونِ

    It was selected from the heartwood of Ḥajr's tamarisks,

    its parts fitted together by the craftsmen's carving.

  31. تَقُولُ ليَ المَلِيحَة ُ أُمُّ جَهْمٍ

    وقدْ يرعَى لذي الشَّفقِ المنينِ

    The lovely Umm Jahm says to me—

    and one wearied by tender concern may sometimes be heeded—

  32. كَأَنَّكَ لا تَرَى أَهْلاً ومَالاً

    سوَى وجناءَ جائلة ِ الوضينِ

    “As though you saw neither family nor wealth

    except a stout she-camel with a shifting girth.”

  33. ولَوْ أَنِّي أشَاءُ كَنَنْتُ جِسْمِي

    إلى بيضاء واضحة الجبينِ

    If I wished, I could shelter my body

    beside a fair woman with a radiant forehead;

  34. إذ قامتْ تأوَّدَ مسبكرٌّ

    منَ القضبان في فننٍ كنينِ

    when she rose, a straight, full-grown shoot would sway

    among the boughs of a sheltered branch.

  35. ولكنِّي أسيرُ العنسَ يدمَى

    أظلاّها، وتركعُ في الحزونِ

    But I drive the sturdy she-camel until they bleed—

    her foot-pads—and she kneels on rugged ground.

  36. يظلُّ يجولُ فوقَ الحاذِ منها

    بِآيِلِ بَوْلِهَا قِطَعُ الجَنِينِ

    All day there move above her hindquarters,

    amid her thickening urine, fragments of fetal tissue.

  37. تسدُّ بمضرحيِّ اللَّونِ جثلٍ

    خَوَايَة َ فَرْجِ مِقْلاَتٍ دَهِينِ

    With a thick, eagle-hued tail she closes

    the gaping vulva of a milkless camel that loses her young,

  38. كَعُثْكُولِ الصَّفِيِّ، زَهَاهُ هُلْبٌ

    بهِ عبسُ المصايفِ كالقرونِ

    like a choice palm's fruit-cluster, adorned with long hair,

    on which summer's dried dung-clots cling like horns.

  39. تُمِرُّ عَلى الوَرَاكِ إِذَا المَطَايَا

    تقايسنَ النِّجادَ منض الوجينِ

    She draws it across her haunches when the mounts

    match strides over uplands rising from stony ground—

  40. خَرِيعَ النَّعْوِ، مُضْطَرِبَ النَّواحي

    كأخلاقِ الغريفة ِ ذا غضونِ

    supple at its root, tossing at its edges,

    like a worn leather bag, full of folds.

  41. نَزَتْ شُعَبَ النِّسَا مِنْها الأعَالي

    بجانبِ صفحِ مطحرة ٍ زبونِ

    The upper branches of her sciatic sinews spring

    along the flank of a far-ranging, kicking she-camel.

  42. تِشُقُّ مُغَمِّضَاتِ اللَّيْلِ عَنْهَا

    إذا طرقتْ، بمرداسٍ رعونِ

    She splits the night's closed veils before her

    when she comes by night, with a foot that pounds the ridges.

  43. يلاطمُ أيسرُ الخدَّينِ منها

    إذا ذقنتْ قوَى مرسٍ متينِ

    Her left cheek strikes

    the strands of a stout rope when she thrusts out her chin,

  44. كَحُلْقُومِ القَطَاة ِ، أُمِرَّ شَزْراً

    كَإِمْرَارِ المُحَدْرَجِ ذِي الأُسُونِ

    like a sandgrouse's gullet, tightly twisted crosswise,

    like the twisting of a rounded cord with plaited strands.

  45. كذا وكلاَ، إذا حبستْ قليلاً،

    تَعَلُّلُها بِمُسْوَدِّ الدَّرِينِ

    As quick as “so” and “no,” when held back briefly,

    she takes a few bites of blackened, withered grass.

  46. مُضَبَّرَة ُ القَرَى ، بُنِيَتْ يَدَاهَا

    إلى سندٍ كبرجِ المنجنونِ

    Compact of back, her forelegs were built

    against a firm support like a waterwheel's tower.

  47. قليلُ العركِ، يهجرُ مرفقاها

    خَلِيفَ رَحى ً كَفُرْزُومِ القُيُونِ

    With little rubbing, her elbows keep clear

    of the hollow beside a chest-pad like a smith's anvil.

  48. كأنِّي بعدَ سيرِ القومِ خمساً

    أَحَذُّ النَّعْتِ يَلْمَعُ بالمَنِينِ

    As though, after the company had traveled five days,

    I were a lean-hindered beast flashing through the dust,

  49. عَلى بَيْدَانَة ٍ بِبَناتِ قَيْنٍ

    تسوفُ صلالً مبتدِّ ظنونِ

    following a pale wild she-ass at Banāt Qayn,

    scenting stagnant water, isolated and of uncertain yield.

  50. تُعَارِضُ رَعْلَة ً، وتَقُودُ أُخْرَى

    نِفَافَ الوَطْءِ، غَائِرَة َ العُيُونِ

    She flanks one band and leads another,

    light of tread, hollow-eyed,

  51. نَواعِجَ، يَغْتَلِين مُوَاكِبَاتٍ

    بأعناقٍ كأشرعة ِ السَّفينِ

    swift females ranging along together,

    with necks like the sails of ships.

  52. تُرَاكِلُ عَرْبَسِيسَ المَتْنِ مَرْتاً

    كظهرِ السَّيحِ، مطَّردَ المتونِ

    They kick across a hard-surfaced, barren tract,

    like the back of a striped cloak, its surfaces stretching evenly.

  53. ترَى أصواءَهُ متجاوراتٍ

    عَلى الأشْرَافِ كالرُّفَقِ العِزِينِ

    You see its cairns clustered near each other

    on the heights like separate bands of travelers,

  54. بمنخرقٍ تحنُّ الرِّيحُ فيهِ

    حَنِينَ الجُلْبِ في البَلَدِ السَّنينِ

    in an open passage where the wind moans

    like a driven herd in a drought-stricken land.

  55. يَظَلُّ غُرابُهَا ضَرِماً شَذَاهُ

    شَجٍ بِخُصُومَة ِ الذِّئْبِ الشَّنُونِ

    Its raven remains afire with anger,

    distressed by contention with a lean wolf,

  56. عَلى حُوَلاَءَ يَطْفُو السُّخْدُ فِيها

    فراهَا الشَّيذمانُ عنِ الجنينِ

    over a fetal membrane in which birth-fluid floats,

    torn from the fetus by the wolf.

  57. وركبٍ قدْ بعثتُ إلى رذايا

    طَلائِحَ مِثْلِ أَخْلاقِ الجُفُونِ

    And a band of riders I roused to their spent mounts,

    exhausted, like worn-out sword-sheaths,

  58. مَخَافَة َ أَنْ يَرِينَ النَّوْمُ فِيهِمْ

    بِسُكْرِ سِنَاتِهِمْ كُلَّ الرُّيُونِ

    fearing sleep would overwhelm them

    with the stupor of their dozing, overpowering them utterly.

  59. فَقَامُوا يَنْفُضونَ كَرَى لَيَالٍ

    تمكَّنَ بالطُّلَى بعدَ العيونِ

    They rose, shaking off the slumber of nights

    that had settled into their necks after their eyes.

  60. وشحواءِ المقامِ بللتُ منها

    بِسَجْلٍ بَطْنَ مُطَّرِقٍ دَفِينِ

    And a spacious watering-place, from which I moistened

    with a bucketful the belly of a bowed, hidden creature.

  61. كَأَنَّ قَوَادِمَ القُمْرِيِّ فِيهِ

    علَى رجوَيْ مراكضِها الأجونِ

    As though the turtle-dove's primary feathers there,

    along both edges of its stagnant watering-runs,

  62. سَلاجِمُ يَثْرِبَ اللاَّتي عَلَتْها

    بِيَثْرِبَ كَبْرَة ٌ بَعْدَ الجُرُونِ

    were Yathrib's long arrows, overlaid

    at Yathrib with a patina after burnishing.

  63. سَبَقْتُ بِوِرْدِهَا فُرَّاطَ سِرْبٍ

    شرائحَ بينَ كدريّ وجوني

    I reached its water before the advance birds of a flock,

    bands of dusky and black ones.

  64. تَرَى لِحُلُوقِ جِلَّتِها أَدَاوَى

    ملمَّعة ً كتلميعِ الكرينِ

    At the throats of their large birds you see water-skins,

    mottled like patterned balls.

  65. لِكُلِّ إِدَاوَة ٍ مِنْها نِياطٌ

    وحُلْقُومٌ أُضِيفَ إِلى وَتِينِ

    Each of those water-skins has a hanging strap

    and a gullet joined to an artery.

  66. إذَا اقْلَوَلَيْنَ لِلْقَرَبِ البَطِين

    بِأَجْنِحة ٍ يَمُرْنَ بِهِنَّ حُرْدٍ

    When they hurry toward the long journey to water,

    with curved wings that they sweep along,

  67. وأعناقٍ حنينَ لغيرِ أونِ

    قطَا قربٍ تروَّحَ عنْ فراخٍ

    and necks bent without weariness—

    water-seeking sandgrouse leaving their chicks toward evening,

  68. نواهضَ بالفلا صفرِ البطونِ

    كأنَّ جلودهنَّ إذا ازلغبَّتْ

    fledglings in the wilderness with empty bellies—

    their skins, when they sprout down, seem

  69. أفاني الصَّيفِ في جردِ المتونِ

    بِمُشْتَبِهِ الظَّوَاهِرِ والصُّحُونِ

    like summer afānī plants on bare ridges,

    on ground whose heights and flats look alike.