أهاجَكَ شَوقٌ بَعدما هَجعَ الرّكْبُ

أهاجَكَ شَوقٌ بَعدما هَجعَ الرّكْبُ

وأُدْمُ المَطايا في أزِمَّتِها تَحْبُو

وأُدْمُ المَطايا في أزِمَّتِها تَحْبُو

Did longing stir you after the caravan had fallen asleep,

Longing stirred you after the caravan slept,

while the white riding camels crept along in their reins?

And the saddle cloths settled into their straps.

فأَذْرَيْتَ دَمْعاً ما يَجِفُّ غُروبُهُ

فأَذْرَيْتَ دَمْعاً ما يَجِفُّ غُروبُهُ

وقَلَّ غَناءً عَنْكَ وابِلُهُ السَّكْبُ

وقَلَّ غَناءً عَنْكَ وابِلُهُ السَّكْبُ

So you shed tears whose streams never dry,

So you shed tears that wouldn’t dry at sunset,

yet their pouring downpour brought you little relief.

While rain poured over you, washing away your song.

تَحِنُّ حَنينَ النِّيبِ شَوْقاً إِلى الحِمى

تَحِنُّ حَنينَ النِّيبِ شَوْقاً إِلى الحِمى

ومَطْلَبُهُ مِنْ سَفْحِ كاظِمَةٍ صَعْبُ

ومَطْلَبُهُ مِنْ سَفْحِ كاظِمَةٍ صَعْبُ

You moan like old she-camels, yearning for the protected pasture,

You yearn with a longing like the prophet’s,

but seeking it from Kazimah's lower slopes is hard.

Seeking the sanctuary on the slopes of Kazima, rough going.

رُوَيْدَكَ إنّ القَلبَ لَجَّ بهِ الهَوى

رُوَيْدَكَ إنّ القَلبَ لَجَّ بهِ الهَوى

وطالَ التّجَنّي منْ أُمَيمَةَ والعَتْبُ

وطالَ التّجَنّي منْ أُمَيمَةَ والعَتْبُ

Easy now: passion has gripped the heart relentlessly,

Be still! Passion has flooded my heart,

and Umaymah's unjust blame and reproaches have lasted long.

And too long has my complaining and blaming gone on.

وأهوَنُ ما بي أنّ ليلةَ مَنْعِجٍ

وأهوَنُ ما بي أنّ ليلةَ مَنْعِجٍ

أضاءَتْ لَنا ناراً بِعَلياءَ ما تَخْبو

أضاءَتْ لَنا ناراً بِعَلياءَ ما تَخْبو

And the least of what ails me is that a night at Man'ij

The least of my concerns was that a night in Manjaj

lit for us a fire on high ground that never dies.

Lit for us a fire whose embers refused to die out.

يَعُطُّ جَلابيبَ الظّلامِ التِهابُها

يَعُطُّ جَلابيبَ الظّلامِ التِهابُها

ويَنفَحُ منْ تِلْقائِها المَنْدَلُ الرَّطْبُ

ويَنفَحُ منْ تِلْقائِها المَنْدَلُ الرَّطْبُ

Its blaze rends the cloaks of darkness,

It ignited the darkness’s garb till it blazed,

and moist incense wood breathes fragrance from its direction.

And damp wood smoked freely beside it.

فَجاءَتْ بِريّاها شَمالٌ مَريضةٌ

فَجاءَتْ بِريّاها شَمالٌ مَريضةٌ

لها مَلعَبٌ ما بَينَ أكبادِنا رَحْبُ

لها مَلعَبٌ ما بَينَ أكبادِنا رَحْبُ

Then a languid north wind came bearing its fragrance,

Then from the north came a sickly wind, playing

with a spacious playground among our livers.

Between our souls in a vast empty space.

وبَلَّتْ نِجادَ السّيْفِ منّيَ أدْمُعٌ

وبَلَّتْ نِجادَ السّيْفِ منّيَ أدْمُعٌ

تُصانُ على الجُلَّى ويَبْذُلُها الحُبُّ

تُصانُ على الجُلَّى ويَبْذُلُها الحُبُّ

And tears from me soaked my sword's baldric,

My sword shed copious tears over me,

withheld before great calamity, yet lavished by love.

Preserving my polished blades as love dictated.

فكادَ بِتَرْجيعِ الحَنينِ يُجيبُني

فكادَ بِتَرْجيعِ الحَنينِ يُجيبُني

حُسامي ورَحْلي والمَطِيَّةُ والصَّحْبُ

حُسامي ورَحْلي والمَطِيَّةُ والصَّحْبُ

Then, with echoed cries of longing, I was almost answered by

My passion almost roused sword, mount, and friend

my keen sword, my saddle, my mount, and my companions.

To answer me, and the graceful bend of a young woman’s form

ونَشْوانَةِ الأعْطافِ منْ تَرَفِ الصِّبَا

ونَشْوانَةِ الأعْطافِ منْ تَرَفِ الصِّبَا

تُغيرُ وِشاحَيْها الخَلاخِيلُ والقُلْبُ

تُغيرُ وِشاحَيْها الخَلاخِيلُ والقُلْبُ

And a woman, her limbs drunk with youth's luxuriance,

Changing the scarf on her throat, while my heart


whose anklets and bracelet make her two sashes jealous.

Chewed on arrak sticks till I knew their taste was sweet.

إذا مَضَغَتْ غِبَّ الكَرى عُودَ إسْحِلٍ

إذا مَضَغَتْ غِبَّ الكَرى عُودَ إسْحِلٍ

وفاخَ عَلِمْنا أنّ مَشْرَبَهُ عَذْبُ

وفاخَ عَلِمْنا أنّ مَشْرَبَهُ عَذْبُ

When, after sleep, she chewed an isḥil twig

Her phantom came, and night dragged its train,

and it breathed fragrance, we knew its drink was sweet.

Bidding us farewell as dawn’s veils disclosed it.

أتى طَيفُها واللّيلُ يَسْحَبُ ذَيْلَهُ

أتى طَيفُها واللّيلُ يَسْحَبُ ذَيْلَهُ

ووَدَّعَنا والصُّبْحُ تَلفِظُهُ الحُجْبُ

ووَدَّعَنا والصُّبْحُ تَلفِظُهُ الحُجْبُ

Her dream-phantom came while night dragged its train,

By God, that comrade didn’t change his ways,

and bade us farewell as the veils cast forth the dawn.

No separation made absence sweeter or nearness a burden.

وللهِ زَوْرٌ لَمْ يُغَيِّرْ عُهودَهُ

وللهِ زَوْرٌ لَمْ يُغَيِّرْ عُهودَهُ

بِعادٌ ولا أهْدَى المَلالَ له قُرْبُ

بِعادٌ ولا أهْدَى المَلالَ له قُرْبُ

God be praised for a visitor whose pledges were not altered

I wished the night had not finished its weeping,

by separation, nor did nearness bring it tedium.

And that the grey hairs on its brow might remain.

تَمَنَّيتُ أنّ الليلَ لمْ يَقْضِ نَحْبهُ

تَمَنَّيتُ أنّ الليلَ لمْ يَقْضِ نَحْبهُ

وإنْ بَقِيَتْ مَرضَى على أُفْقِهِ الشُّهْبُ

وإنْ بَقِيَتْ مَرضَى على أُفْقِهِ الشُّهْبُ

I wished the night had never met its end,

We looked toward the heights, to the right of the sanctuary,

even if the stars remained ailing on its horizon.

And what passion remains untried by a westering look?

نَظَرنا إِلى الوَعْساءِ مِن أيْمَنِ الحِمى

نَظَرنا إِلى الوَعْساءِ مِن أيْمَنِ الحِمى

وأيُّ هَوًى لمْ يَجْنِهِ النَّظَرُ الغَرْبُ

وأيُّ هَوًى لمْ يَجْنِهِ النَّظَرُ الغَرْبُ

We looked toward the soft sandy ground from the protected pasture's right side,

While we were on the edge of a road like a sword,

and what passion has the keen gaze not reaped?

When its path grew straight, a blade that bit deep.

ونَحْنُ على أطرافِ نَهْجٍ كأنّهُ

ونَحْنُ على أطرافِ نَهْجٍ كأنّهُ

إذا اطَّرَدَتْ أدْراجُهُ صارِمٌ عَضْبُ

إذا اطَّرَدَتْ أدْراجُهُ صارِمٌ عَضْبُ

And we were on the edges of a road that seemed,

High-humped she-camels led us into Iraq,

when its stretches ran unbroken, a keen, sharp-edged sword.

Their leather reins held in their hands grasping spears.

يَؤُمُّ بِنا أرْضَ العِراقِ رَكائِبٌ

يَؤُمُّ بِنا أرْضَ العِراقِ رَكائِبٌ

تَقُدُّ بأيْديها أديمَ الفَلا نُجْبُ

تَقُدُّ بأيْديها أديمَ الفَلا نُجْبُ

Riding camels carry us toward the land of Iraq,

The clan of Abbas bring wealth to one seeking gain,

fine-bred mounts cleaving the desert's skin with their forelegs.

Honor to the seeker of glory, and a cave to the outcast.

فَشَعْبُ بَني العَبَّاسِ للمُرْتَجي غِنًى

فَشَعْبُ بَني العَبَّاسِ للمُرْتَجي غِنًى

وللمُبْتَغي عِزّاً وللمُعْتَفي شِعْبُ

وللمُبْتَغي عِزّاً وللمُعْتَفي شِعْبُ

For the clan of the sons of al-Abbas is wealth to the hopeful,

They are a people on whom honor poured its shade,

and a sheltering ravine for the seeker of honor and the supplicant.

And pride never toyed with the edges of their robes.

أولئكَ قَومٌ أسْبَلَ العِزُّ ظِلَّهُ

أولئكَ قَومٌ أسْبَلَ العِزُّ ظِلَّهُ

عَلَيهمْ ولَم يَعْبَثْ بأعْطافِهمْ عُجْبُ

عَلَيهمْ ولَم يَعْبَثْ بأعْطافِهمْ عُجْبُ

Those are a people: honor has let fall its shade

They are pillars rising to the zenith, sturdy

upon them, and conceit has not toyed with their limbs.

When the knot of war grows tight; then a band quick to unravel it.

هُمُ الرَّاسِياتُ الشُّمُّ ما أُبْرِمَ الحُبا

هُمُ الرَّاسِياتُ الشُّمُّ ما أُبْرِمَ الحُبا

وإنْ نُقِضَتْ هاجَتْ ضَراغِمَةٌ غُلْبُ

وإنْ نُقِضَتْ هاجَتْ ضَراغِمَةٌ غُلْبُ

They are lofty, steadfast mountains while their knee-bands are tied;

With them lightnings are averted and wishes attained,

and if these are undone, thick-necked lions rise in fury.

Rains implored and clouds made to shower down.

بِهمْ تُدفَعُ الجُلَّى وتُسْتَلْقَحُ المُنى

بِهمْ تُدفَعُ الجُلَّى وتُسْتَلْقَحُ المُنى

وتُسْتَغْزَرُ الجَدْوى وتُسْتَمْطَرُ السُّحْبُ

وتُسْتَغْزَرُ الجَدْوى وتُسْتَمْطَرُ السُّحْبُ

Through them great calamity is repelled and hopes are made fertile,

They make Mahdi—God built his glory

and bounty is drawn forth abundantly, and clouds are asked for rain.

On a lofty, splendid base—their shelter and home.

يُحَيُّونَ مَهدِيّاً بَنَى اللهُ مَجْدَهُ

يُحَيُّونَ مَهدِيّاً بَنَى اللهُ مَجْدَهُ

على باذِخٍ تأْوي إِلى ظِلِّهِ العُرْبُ

على باذِخٍ تأْوي إِلى ظِلِّهِ العُرْبُ

They salute a Mahdi, whose glory God has built

To him belongs the towering peak of noble ancestors,

on a towering height to whose shade the Arabs take refuge.

Whenever supremacy and sovereignty come within reach.

لهُ الذِّرْوَةُ العَيْطاءُ في آلِ غالِبٍ

لهُ الذِّرْوَةُ العَيْطاءُ في آلِ غالِبٍ

إذا انْتَضَلَتْ بالفَخْرِ مُرَّةُ أو كَعْبُ

إذا انْتَضَلَتْ بالفَخْرِ مُرَّةُ أو كَعْبُ

His is the towering summit among the house of Ghalib,

Kings ride out to hunt beneath his banner,

when Murrah or Ka'b contend with arrows of pride.

And terror of him moves ahead of them toward his enemies.

يَسيرُ المُلوكُ الصِّيدُ تَحتَ لِوائِهِ

يَسيرُ المُلوكُ الصِّيدُ تَحتَ لِوائِهِ

ويَسْري إِلى أعدائِهِ قَبْلَهُ الرُّعْبُ

ويَسْري إِلى أعدائِهِ قَبْلَهُ الرُّعْبُ

Kings with heads held high march beneath his banner,

When they string their spearheads for a raid,

and terror travels by night to his enemies ahead of him.

And the steeds, trained for onslaught, stir under them,

إذا اعتَقَلوا سُمْرَ الرِّماحِ لِغارَةٍ

إذا اعتَقَلوا سُمْرَ الرِّماحِ لِغارَةٍ

وجُرْدُ الجيادِ الضابِعاتِ بِهمْ نُكْبُ

وجُرْدُ الجيادِ الضابِعاتِ بِهمْ نُكْبُ

When they couch brown spears for a raid,

They refuse anything but a death-dealing thrust of the blade,

and sleek, long-striding steeds veer beneath them,

A blow that will heal the rancor of the wounded.

أبَوْا غَيرَ طَعْنٍ يَخْطِرُ الموتُ دونَهُ

أبَوْا غَيرَ طَعْنٍ يَخْطِرُ الموتُ دونَهُ

ويَشفي غَليلَ المَشْرَفيِّ بِها الضَّرْبُ

ويَشفي غَليلَ المَشْرَفيِّ بِها الضَّرْبُ

they accept only spear-thrusts before which death struts,

If not for the fear swords inspire, these battalions,

and there, blows quench the Mashrafi blade's thirst.

Guided by the Imam’s wisdom and the Book, would suffice.

كَتائِبُ لَولا أنّ للسَّيْفِ رَوْعَةً

كَتائِبُ لَولا أنّ للسَّيْفِ رَوْعَةً

كَفاها العِدا الرّأيُ الإمامِيُّ والكُتْبُ

كَفاها العِدا الرّأيُ الإمامِيُّ والكُتْبُ

Battalions—were it not for the sword's terror,

White swords keep the wolves at bay around him,

the Imam's judgment and letters would suffice them against the foe.

While war unleashes its claws short of him.

تُدافِعُ عَنها البِيضُ مُرهَفَةَ الظُّبا

تُدافِعُ عَنها البِيضُ مُرهَفَةَ الظُّبا

وتَفْتَرُّ عن أنيابِها دونَها الحَرْبُ

وتَفْتَرُّ عن أنيابِها دونَها الحَرْبُ

Bright swords with sharpened edges defend them,

To you, God’s trustee, I dedicate these poems,

and war grins before them, baring its fangs.

That rove through the earth attended by their train.

إلَيكَ أمينَ اللهِ أُهدي قَصائِداً

إلَيكَ أمينَ اللهِ أُهدي قَصائِداً

تَجوبُ بها الأرضَ الغُرَيْرِيَّةُ الصُّهْبُ

تَجوبُ بها الأرضَ الغُرَيْرِيَّةُ الصُّهْبُ

To you, O God's trusted one, I offer poems

Why should the mounts halt, after carrying us

that tawny Ghurayri camels carry across the earth.

Across Iraq’s wilderness, not even their saddle girths left?

فَما لِلمَطايا بَعدَما قَطَعَتْ بِنا

فَما لِلمَطايا بَعدَما قَطَعَتْ بِنا

نِياطَ الفَلا حتّى عَرائِكُها حُدْبُ

نِياطَ الفَلا حتّى عَرائِكُها حُدْبُ

So what ails the mounts, after they have carried us across

Hobbled, while the turbulent sea foamed up

the desert's far reaches, till their worn humps are bowed,

Over the shallows, with no water or grass near them.

مُعَقّلَةً والبَحْرُ طامٍ عُبابُهُ

مُعَقّلَةً والبَحْرُ طامٍ عُبابُهُ

على الخَسْفِ لا ماءٌ لَدَيْها ولا عُشْبُ

على الخَسْفِ لا ماءٌ لَدَيْها ولا عُشْبُ

hobbled, while the sea's surge overflows,

The herd of the living kept away from it once it was clear

in humiliation, with neither water nor grass at hand?

The land of grazing showed nothing but barrenness.

يَصُدُّ رِعاءُ الحَيِّ عَنْها وقد بَرى

يَصُدُّ رِعاءُ الحَيِّ عَنْها وقد بَرى

بِحَيثُ الرُّبا تَخْضَرُّ أشباحَها الجَدْبُ

بِحَيثُ الرُّبا تَخْضَرُّ أشباحَها الجَدْبُ

The tribe's herdsmen turn away from them, though drought has worn

their bodies thin, where the hills grow green.