عيشَتي سَلَّتي وَرَمسي غِمدي

عيشَتي سَلَّتي وَرَمسي غِمدي

فَاِقرُبوني فيهِ وَلا تَقرَبوني

فَاِقرُبوني فيهِ وَلا تَقرَبوني

My life is my unsheathing; my grave, my sheath.

My life is my quiver, and my poems are my arrows,

So sheathe me in it, and do not approach me.

So bring me close to the target, but do not let me draw near,

زَبَّنَتها عَن دَرِّها أُمُّ دَفرٍ

زَبَّنَتها عَن دَرِّها أُمُّ دَفرٍ

فَصِفوها بِالحَيزَبونِ الزَبونِ

فَصِفوها بِالحَيزَبونِ الزَبونِ

Mother Stench has driven it away from her milk;

Their perfume was hidden from its pearls by a shell,

so describe her as the kicking old hag.

So describe it with gazelle musk and ambergris.

وَرَأَيتُ البَقاءَ فيها وَإِن مُد

وَرَأَيتُ البَقاءَ فيها وَإِن مُد

دَ لِوَشكِ الحِمامِ كَالعُربونِ

دَ لِوَشكِ الحِمامِ كَالعُربونِ

And I saw continued life in it, even if prolonged,

And I saw survival in it, though it passes quickly

as a down payment toward death's swift coming.

Like the dowry before union, a mere down payment,

إِنَّ في الشَرِّ فَاِعلَموهُ خَياراً

إِنَّ في الشَرِّ فَاِعلَموهُ خَياراً

وَحُبونُ الرِجالِ فَوقَ الحُبونُ

وَحُبونُ الرِجالِ فَوقَ الحُبونُ

Even in evil—know this—there is a choice;

For in evil, know that there are still good things,

and men's boils are worse than ordinary boils.

And men's love is above all jewels.

لَيسَ حالُ المَخبولِ فيما يُلاقي

لَيسَ حالُ المَخبولِ فيما يُلاقي

مِثلَ حالِ المَطوِيِّ وَالمَخبونِ

مِثلَ حالِ المَطوِيِّ وَالمَخبونِ

The mutilated one's plight in what he faces is not

The state of the deceived with what they encounter

like that of the folded and the hemmed.

Is not like those who bend and those who cheat.

وَهُمُ الناسُ وَالحَياةُ لَهُم سو

وَهُمُ الناسُ وَالحَياةُ لَهُم سو

قٌ فَمِن غابِنٍ وَمِن مَغبونِ

قٌ فَمِن غابِنٍ وَمِن مَغبونِ

And they are people; life is their marketplace—

People and life are an open market for them,

some swindle, and some are swindled.

With some who lose and some who profit.

هَرمَ البازِلُ الَّذي يَحمِلُ العِب

هَرمَ البازِلُ الَّذي يَحمِلُ العِب

أَ فَأَمسى يَعُزُّهُ اِبنُ اللَبونِ

أَ فَأَمسى يَعُزُّهُ اِبنُ اللَبونِ

The full-grown camel that carries the burden has grown old;

The poor wretch who carries offal

so now a two-year-old camel overpowers him.

Has he not come to esteem the son of Labun?

كَم قَطَعنا مِن حِندِسٍ وَنَهارٍ

كَم قَطَعنا مِن حِندِسٍ وَنَهارٍ

وَكَأَنَّ الزَمانَ في دَيدَبونِ

وَكَأَنَّ الزَمانَ في دَيدَبونِ

How many a pitch-dark night and day we have crossed!

How much steam and daylight have we traversed,

And time seems absorbed in idle play.

As if time creeps like a lizard!

فَرَعى اللَهُ جيرَةً ما تَناءَوا

فَرَعى اللَهُ جيرَةً ما تَناءَوا

عَن رَحيبٍ لَبانُهُ مَلبونِ

عَن رَحيبٍ لَبانُهُ مَلبونِ

So may God guard neighbors who have not strayed

May God pasture a neighbor who would not

from a broad-chested man, stricken in the breast.

Turn away from a downpour whose drops are clear.

أَطرَبوني وَما اِبنُ سَبرَةَ في السَب

أَطرَبوني وَما اِبنُ سَبرَةَ في السَب

رَةِ إِلّا مَنِيَّةُ الأَطرَبونِ

رَةِ إِلّا مَنِيَّةُ الأَطرَبونِ

They stirred my heart; and Ibn Sabrah in the morning chill

They excited me, and the son of Sabra in Sabra

is nothing but al-Atrabun's doom.

Is none but the death of the aroused one.