1. يائِبنَةَ الدَهرِ هَل رَأَيتِ كَمِثلي

    عِندَ دَفعِ المُنى وَنفيِ الشُكوكِ

    O daughter of Time, have you seen my like

    in casting off wishes and banishing doubts?

  2. أَركَبُ المَهمَهَ المَهولَ بِعَزمٍ

    وَثِيابي ظَلامَةُ الحَلكوكِ

    I traverse the dreadful wilderness with resolve,

    with pitch-black darkness for my garments.

  3. وَأَشُقُّ الجُيوبَ مِن خَلعِ اللَي

    لِ بِكَفٍّ مِنَ الزَماعِ بَتوكِ

    And I tear open the collars of night's robes

    with a clean-severing hand of determination.

  4. وَأَنا الباعِثُ العَزيمَ إِلى الهَم

    مِ فَأُجليهِ عَن ثَباتِ الحَنيكِ

    And I am the one who rouses resolve toward ambition,

    drawing it forth from a veteran's steadfastness.

  5. شَمَّرِيُّ الجَنانِ كَالخَذمِ الصا

    رِمِ بَينَ الإِرهافِ وَالتَحبيكِ

    Resolute of heart, like a cleaving sword,

    keenly honed and firmly wrought.

  6. في غِرارَيهِ وَالذُبابِ بَناتُ الذَر

    رِ يَرفُلنَ في نَهيكٍ سَبيكِ

    On its two edges and its point, the daughters of tiny ants

    trail their robes within keen, cast steel.

  7. مُتَجافٍ عَنِ الوِسادِ بِقَلبٍ

    يَقِظِ اللُبِّ غَيرِ جَوشٍ صَكيكِ

    I keep away from the pillow, with a heart

    alert of mind, neither dull nor feeble.

  8. أَركَبُ اللَيلَ في زُها هائِلِ اللَي

    لِ وَرَأدَ الضُحى لِوَقتِ الدُلوكِ

    I ride through night at the height of its terror,

    and through early forenoon until the sun declines.

  9. وَكَذا أَشتَهي يَكونُ فَتى الحِم

    مَةِ غَيرَ الخُمَيِّمِ المَأفوكِ

    And so I wish a young man of mettle to be,

    not a petty, deluded weakling.

  10. وَإِلى اِخوَتي ذَوي الرَدَبِ الغُر

    رِ أُؤَدّي تَحِيَّتي وَأَلوكي

    And to my brothers of illustrious rank [reading uncertain],

    I convey my greeting and my message,

  11. حَيِّهِم مِنهُمُ كَشاهِدِ عُربٍ

    غائِبٍ مِنهُمُ بِدارِ عَتيكِ

    to the living among them, whether Arabs close at hand

    or away from them in the abode of ʿAtīk.

  12. فَمَديحُ فَغورِها فَتِهامٍ

    فَبِأَرضِ العِراقِ وَاليَرموكِ

    Then praise [wording unclear], then its lowlands, then Tihām;

    then in the land of Iraq and the Yarmūk;

  13. فَخُراسانَ صاحَ فَاليَمَنِ النا

    زِحِ صَنعائِها فَأَهلِ تَبوكِ

    then Khurāsān, friend, then Yemen's distant

    Ṣanʿāʾ, then the people of Tabūk.

  14. وَيلَكُم وَيبَكُم لَقَد هُتِكَ الشِع

    رُ فَبَكّوا لِسِترِهِ المَهتوكِ

    Woe to you, alas for you! Poetry has been violated;

    so weep for its torn veil.

  15. ثُمَّ شُقّوا الجُيوبَ قَد قَرُبَ الأَم

    رُ وَاِتِّساعُهُ كَأَبي الدُروكِ

    Then tear your collars; the affair has drawn near,

    and its extent is like that of Abū al-Durūk.

  16. يا اِمرَأَ القَيسِ لَو رَأَيتَ حَبيكَ ال

    شِعرِ يُغدى بِماءِ لَفظٍ رَكيكِ

    O Imruʾ al-Qays, if you saw the close weave of

    poetry fed with the water of feeble diction,

  17. لَبَكَيتَ الدِماءَ لِلأَدَبِ الغَضِّ

    بِفَيضٍ مِنَ الدُموعِ سَفوكِ

    you would weep blood for the tender art of letters,

    in a copious, spilling flood of tears.

  18. وَلَأَبكَيتَ طَرفَةً وَزُهَيراً

    وَلَبيداً وَقَرمِ آلِ نَهيكِ

    And you would make Ṭarafa and Zuhayr weep,

    and Labīd, and the chief of the house of Nahīk.

  19. وَبَكى النابِغانِ مِن فَرطِ وَجدٍ

    ثُمَّ صَنّاجَةُ القَريضِ المَحوكِ

    And the two Nābighas would weep from overwhelming grief,

    then the cymbal-player of tightly woven verse.

  20. أَينَ شَمّاخُ وَالكُمَيتُ وَذو الرُم

    مَةِ وَصّافُ مَهمَهٍ وَنَبيكِ

    Where are Shammākh, al-Kumayt, and Dhū al-Rummah,

    the vivid describer of wilderness and hillock?

  21. أَينَ ذاكَ الظَريفُ أَعني اِبنَ هاني

    حَسَناً وَيبَهُ نَديمَ المُلوكِ

    Where is that elegant wit—I mean Ibn Hāni,

    Ḥasan—alas for him!—the boon companion of kings?

  22. حَكَمَت فيكُمُ أَكُفُّ المَنايا

    فَجَرى حُكمُها بِغَيرِ شُكوكِ

    The hands of death passed judgment upon you,

    and its verdict took effect without doubt.

  23. وَتَبَدَّلتُ مِنهُمُ البَدَلَ الأَع

    وَرَ بَينِ قُذرَةٍ وَأَفيكِ

    And I have taken in their stead a one-eyed replacement,

    between a filthy wretch and a habitual liar.

  24. ذَهَبَ الناسُ بَل مَضى زَمَنُ النا

    سِ وَخُلِّفتُ لِلزَمانِ الهَتوكِ

    People are gone—rather, the age of people has passed,

    and I have been left to ravaging Time.