أَحِنُّ إِلى ضَربِ السُيوفِ القَواضِبِ

أَحِنُّ إِلى ضَربِ السُيوفِ القَواضِبِ

وَأَصبو إِلى طَعنِ الرِماحِ اللَواعِبِ

وَأَصبو إِلى طَعنِ الرِماحِ اللَواعِبِ

I yearn for the blows of cleaving swords,

I yearn for the clashing of swift swords,

And yearn for the thrusts of dancing spears.

And I aspire for the thrusting of slender spears,

وَأَشتاقُ كاساتِ المَنونِ إِذا صَفَت

وَأَشتاقُ كاساتِ المَنونِ إِذا صَفَت

وَدارَت عَلى رَأسي سِهامُ المَصائِبِ

وَدارَت عَلى رَأسي سِهامُ المَصائِبِ

And I long for the cups of death when they run clear,

And I long for cups of death when they are passed around,

And the arrows of calamity circle above my head.

And arrows of calamity circle around my head,

وَيُطرِبُني وَالخَيلُ تَعثُرُ بِالقَنا

وَيُطرِبُني وَالخَيلُ تَعثُرُ بِالقَنا

حُداةُ المَنايا وَاِرتِعاجُ المَواكِبِ

حُداةُ المَنايا وَاِرتِعاجُ المَواكِبِ

And I am thrilled—as horses stumble over spears—

And I am thrilled when horses stumble in the battle,

By death’s chanting drivers and the tumult of the hosts,

By the specter of death and the bustling of processions,

وَضَربٌ وَطَعنٌ تَحتَ ظِلِّ عَجاجَةٍ

وَضَربٌ وَطَعنٌ تَحتَ ظِلِّ عَجاجَةٍ

كَجُنحِ الدُجى مِن وَقعِ أَيدي السَلاهِبِ

كَجُنحِ الدُجى مِن وَقعِ أَيدي السَلاهِبِ

And blows and thrusts beneath a dust-cloud’s shadow,

And the striking and stabbing under the shade of a canopy,

Dark as night, raised by the pounding forefeet of long-limbed steeds.

Like the wings of nightfall from the clamor of marauding hands,

تَطيرُ رُؤوسُ القَومِ تَحتَ ظَلامِها

تَطيرُ رُؤوسُ القَومِ تَحتَ ظَلامِها

وَتَنقَضُّ فيها كَالنُجومُ الثَواقِب

وَتَنقَضُّ فيها كَالنُجومُ الثَواقِب

The men’s heads fly beneath its darkness,

The heads of the people fly under its darkness,

And plunge through it like bright, piercing stars.

And within it they fall like shooting stars,

وَتَلمَعُ فيها البيضُ مِن كُلِّ جانِبٍ

وَتَلمَعُ فيها البيضُ مِن كُلِّ جانِبٍ

كَلَمعِ بُروقٍ في ظَلامِ الغَياهِبِ

كَلَمعِ بُروقٍ في ظَلامِ الغَياهِبِ

And bright swords flash within it from every side,

And the white flashes within it from every side,

Like lightning flashing in pitch-dark gloom.

Like the flashing of lightning in the darkness of the gloaming,

لَعَمرُكَ إِنَّ المَجدَ وَالفَخرَ وَالعُلا

لَعَمرُكَ إِنَّ المَجدَ وَالفَخرَ وَالعُلا

وَنَيلَ الأَماني وَاِرتِفاعَ المَراتِبِ

وَنَيلَ الأَماني وَاِرتِفاعَ المَراتِبِ

By your life, surely glory, pride, and eminence,

By your life, glory and pride and supremacy,

And the gaining of wishes and ascent through the ranks,

And attaining wishes and rising in ranks,

لِمَن يَلتَقي أَبطالَها وَسَراتَها

لِمَن يَلتَقي أَبطالَها وَسَراتَها

بِقَلبٍ صَبورٍ عِندَ وَقعِ المَضارِبِ

بِقَلبٍ صَبورٍ عِندَ وَقعِ المَضارِبِ

Belong to him who faces battle’s champions and chiefs,

Are for those who face its heroes and elite,

With a steadfast heart when the sword-blades strike,

With persevering hearts at the striking of swords,

وَيَبني بِحَدِّ السَيفِ مَجداً مُشَيَّداً

وَيَبني بِحَدِّ السَيفِ مَجداً مُشَيَّداً

عَلى فَلَكِ العَلياءِ فَوقَ الكَواكِبِ

عَلى فَلَكِ العَلياءِ فَوقَ الكَواكِبِ

And builds a towering glory with the sword’s edge,

And build with the edge of the sword a towering glory,

Upon the sphere of exaltation, above the stars.

In the lofty orbit above the stars,

وَمَن لَم يُرَوِّ رُمحَهُ مِن دَمِ العِدا

وَمَن لَم يُرَوِّ رُمحَهُ مِن دَمِ العِدا

إِذا اِشتَبَكَت سُمرُ القَنا بِالقَواضِبِ

إِذا اِشتَبَكَت سُمرُ القَنا بِالقَواضِبِ

And whoever does not slake his spear with the blood of foes,

And whoever does not water his spear with the blood of foes,

When dusky spears clash with cleaving swords,

When the reddish-black of spears clash with the swift swords,

وَيُعطي القَنا الخَطِّيَّ في الحَربِ حَقَّهُ

وَيُعطي القَنا الخَطِّيَّ في الحَربِ حَقَّهُ

وَيَبري بِحَدِّ السَيفِ عُرضَ المَناكِبِ

وَيَبري بِحَدِّ السَيفِ عُرضَ المَناكِبِ

And give the Khattian spear its due in war,

And give the slender spear its right in battle,

And shear across shoulders with the sword’s edge,

And prove with the edge of the sword the breadth of shoulders,

يَعيشُ كَما عاشَ الذَليلُ بِغُصَّةٍ

يَعيشُ كَما عاشَ الذَليلُ بِغُصَّةٍ

وَإِن ماتَ لا يُجري دُموعَ النَوادِبِ

وَإِن ماتَ لا يُجري دُموعَ النَوادِبِ

Lives as the abased have lived, with choking grief,

Will live as the disgraced lives in anguish,

And, if he dies, draws no tears from the mourning women.

And if he dies no elegy will be sung by the wailing women,

فَضائِلُ عَزمٍ لا تُباعُ لِضارِعٍ

فَضائِلُ عَزمٍ لا تُباعُ لِضارِعٍ

وَأَسرارُ حَزمٍ لا تُذاعُ لِعائِبِ

وَأَسرارُ حَزمٍ لا تُذاعُ لِعائِبِ

Virtues of resolve are not sold to a weakling,

The merits of resolve are not to be sold to the weak,

And secrets of prudence are not divulged to a faultfinder.

And the secrets of wisdom are not to be disclosed to the critic,

بَرَزتُ بِها دَهراً عَلى كُلِّ حادِثٍ

بَرَزتُ بِها دَهراً عَلى كُلِّ حادِثٍ

وَلا كُحلَ إِلّا مِن غُبارِ الكَتائِبِ

وَلا كُحلَ إِلّا مِن غُبارِ الكَتائِبِ

With these I have long stood against every calamity,

With them I have always faced every calamity,

And my only kohl is the dust of the battalions.

My kohl is naught but the dust of battalions,

إِذا كَذَبَ البَرقُ اللَموعُ لِشائِمٍ

إِذا كَذَبَ البَرقُ اللَموعُ لِشائِمٍ

فَبَرقُ حُسامي صادِقٌ غَيرُ كاذِبِ

فَبَرقُ حُسامي صادِقٌ غَيرُ كاذِبِ

When flashing lightning deceives a watcher,

When lightning deceives the critic with false flashes,

Then my keen sword’s lightning is true, not false.

The flash of my sword is truthful and no liar,