سَرى البَرقُ وَالمُزنُ مُرخى العَزالي

سَرى البَرقُ وَالمُزنُ مُرخى العَزالي

فَأَبكَى صِحابي وَحَنَّتْ جِمالي

فَأَبكَى صِحابي وَحَنَّتْ جِمالي

The lightning coursed by night, the rainclouds' spouts let loose;

The lightning flashed and the clouds gathered, sheltering the solitary dwellings,

so it made my companions weep, and my camels moaned with longing.

My companions wept and my camels knelt down.

فَقُلتُ لَهُم مَوهِناً وَالدُّموعُ

فَقُلتُ لَهُم مَوهِناً وَالدُّموعُ

تَسيلُ عَلى ظَلِفاتِ الرِّحالِ

تَسيلُ عَلى ظَلِفاتِ الرِّحالِ

So I said to them late at night, while tears

I said to them, dispirited as the tears

flowed over the wooden side-pieces of the camel-saddles:

Poured down over the saddlebags:

أَتَبكونَ مِن جَزَعٍ وَالبُكاءُ

أَتَبكونَ مِن جَزَعٍ وَالبُكاءُ

تُكَرِّمُ عَنهُ عَيونُ الرِّجالِ

تُكَرِّمُ عَنهُ عَيونُ الرِّجالِ

Do you weep from anguish, when weeping

“Do you weep out of sadness? But crying

is beneath the dignity of men's eyes?

Does not befit the eyes of men.

بِأَيِّ دَواعي الهَوى تُطرَقونَ

بِأَيِّ دَواعي الهَوى تُطرَقونَ

فَقالوا بِهَذا البُريقِ المُلالي

فَقالوا بِهَذا البُريقِ المُلالي

By what summons of love are you visited by night?

With what sorrows of love are you now struck down?”

They said, 'By this shimmering little flash.'

They replied, with this painful malady:

وَبي مِثلُ ما بِهِم مِن أَسىً

وَبي مِثلُ ما بِهِم مِن أَسىً

وَلكنَّني بالأَسى لا أُبالي

وَلكنَّني بالأَسى لا أُبالي

I bear the same sorrow that they do,

“We feel the same as they do, this misery,

yet I pay no heed to sorrow.

Though I don’t care about misery.”

أَأَستَنشِقُ الرِّيحَ عُلويَّةً

أَأَستَنشِقُ الرِّيحَ عُلويَّةً

أَجَلْ وَبِكوفَنَ أَهلي وَما لي

أَجَلْ وَبِكوفَنَ أَهلي وَما لي

Do I breathe in the wind of the uplands?

“Shall I smell the wind high aloft,

Yes, though my family and what I own are in Kufan.

While my family lie in their graves and I have no one?

وَجَدِّيَ مِن غالِبٍ في الذُّرا

وَجَدِّيَ مِن غالِبٍ في الذُّرا

وَمِن عامِرٍ وَهُمُ الحُمسُ خالي

وَمِن عامِرٍ وَهُمُ الحُمسُ خالي

My grandfather, of Ghalib, stands on the heights,

My best men among both settled folk and nomads

and my maternal uncle is of Amir—they are the Hums.

Are gone, and their abodes lie empty.

فَأَكرِم بِمَن كانَ أَعمامُهُ

فَأَكرِم بِمَن كانَ أَعمامُهُ

قُرَيشاً وَأَخوالُهُ مِن هِلالِ

قُرَيشاً وَأَخوالُهُ مِن هِلالِ

Then how noble is one whose paternal uncles were

So honor him whose uncles were

Quraysh, and whose maternal uncles were of Hilal!

Of Quraysh, whose maternal uncles were Hilal,

وَتِلكَ بُيوتٌ بَناها الإِلَهُ

وَتِلكَ بُيوتٌ بَناها الإِلَهُ

عَلى عُمُدٍ في نِزارٍ طِوالِ

عَلى عُمُدٍ في نِزارٍ طِوالِ

Those are houses that God built

And those houses God built

upon tall pillars among Nizar.

On tall columns among the lofty Nizar.

أُدِلُّ بِها وَبِنَفسي أَرومُ

أُدِلُّ بِها وَبِنَفسي أَرومُ

عُلاً تُجتَنى مِن صدورِ العَوالي

عُلاً تُجتَنى مِن صدورِ العَوالي

I glory in them, and on my own I seek

With them and myself I long to ascend

eminence harvested from the tips of tall spears.

The heights, to be saved from lowly disgrace,

وَبِالمُنحَنى شَجَني وَالحِمى

وَبِالمُنحَنى شَجَني وَالحِمى

إِلَيهِ نِزاعي وَعَنهُ سُؤالي

إِلَيهِ نِزاعي وَعَنهُ سُؤالي

At the bend lies my heartache; for the protected pasture

Bowed down by passion for them, my zeal

I yearn, and after it I ask.

Is for them, to them my questions turn.

وَكَم رَشأٍ عاطِلٍ شاقَني

وَكَم رَشأٍ عاطِلٍ شاقَني

إِلى رَشأٍ في مَغانيه حالِ

إِلى رَشأٍ في مَغانيه حالِ

And many an unadorned fawn has made me long

How often an empty trace has vexed me,

for an adorned fawn amid its haunts.

Driving me to a trace where camps once were!

وَقَد رَدَّ غَربيَ عَما أَرومُ

وَقَد رَدَّ غَربيَ عَما أَرومُ

زَمانٌ تَضايَقَ فيهِ مَجالي

زَمانٌ تَضايَقَ فيهِ مَجالي

And my ardor has been turned back from what I seek

Time in its narrowness has turned my hope

by an age in which my scope has narrowed;

Away from all I long for;

وَقَدَّمَ مِن أَهلِهِ عُصبَةً

وَقَدَّمَ مِن أَهلِهِ عُصبَةً

لِئامَ الجُدودِ قِباحَ الفِعالِ

لِئامَ الجُدودِ قِباحَ الفِعالِ

and it has promoted a band of its own people,

And put forward against me a band

ignoble in ancestry and vile in deeds.

Of vile men, evil-doing warriors,

نَفَضتُ يدي منهُمُ إذ رأَيتُ

نَفَضتُ يدي منهُمُ إذ رأَيتُ

لَهُم أَيديَاً بخلَتْ بِالنَّوالِ

لَهُم أَيديَاً بخلَتْ بِالنَّوالِ

I shook my hand free of them when I saw

So I turned my hand from them when I saw

that their hands were miserly with gifts.

They had hands that were miserly in giving.

سَواسيَةٌ جارُهُم لا يَعِزْ

سَواسيَةٌ جارُهُم لا يَعِزْ

زُ حتَّى يُفارِقَهُم عَن تَقَالِ

زُ حتَّى يُفارِقَهُم عَن تَقَالِ

All alike: their neighbor finds no honor

Base-minded neighbors who will not be noblemen

until he leaves them out of mutual loathing.

Until they leave that baseness behind!

سَيَسمو بِيَ المَجدُ حَتَّى تَنالَ

سَيَسمو بِيَ المَجدُ حَتَّى تَنالَ

يَميني السُّها وَالثُّرَيّا شِمالي

يَميني السُّها وَالثُّرَيّا شِمالي

Glory will bear me aloft until

Glory will brand me--my right hand seizing booty,

my right hand reaches Suha, and my left the Pleiades.

My left hand bestowing gifts--

وَتَفلي الصَوارِمُ مِن مَعشَرٍ

وَتَفلي الصَوارِمُ مِن مَعشَرٍ

ذَوائِبَ تَهفو بِأَيدي الفَوالي

ذَوائِبَ تَهفو بِأَيدي الفَوالي

And keen swords will pluck from a people

And swords will clash around me from a company

forelocks fluttering in the lice-pickers' hands,

Of hot-blooded youths with hands that give freely,

بِحَيثُ تُناجي جِباهُ الوَرى

بِحَيثُ تُناجي جِباهُ الوَرى

مِنَ الأَرضِ ما صافَحَتهُ نِعالي

مِنَ الأَرضِ ما صافَحَتهُ نِعالي

where the foreheads of humankind whisper

Until the brows of the champions stoop to the ground

to the earth my sandals have shaken hands with.

That my feet have trampled underfoot.”