قِف بِالمَنازِلِ إِن شَجَتكَ رُبوعُها

قِف بِالمَنازِلِ إِن شَجَتكَ رُبوعُها

فَلَعَلَّ عَينَكَ تَستَهِلُّ دُموعُها

فَلَعَلَّ عَينَكَ تَستَهِلُّ دُموعُها

Halt by the dwellings, if their quarters have saddened you;

Stop awhile at the abodes - should their wastes sadden you -

For perhaps the tears of your eye will pour forth.

Haply your eyes may shed the drops of tears.

وَاِسأَل عَنِ الأَظعانِ أَينَ سَرَت بِها

وَاِسأَل عَنِ الأَظعانِ أَينَ سَرَت بِها

آباؤُها وَمَتى يَكونُ رُجوعُها

آباؤُها وَمَتى يَكونُ رُجوعُها

And ask about the women in their litters: where were they taken

Ask of their news - whither their lords have sped

By their fathers, and when will they return?

And when they shall return - there was a home

دارٌ لِعَبلَةَ شَطَّ عَنكَ مَزارُها

دارٌ لِعَبلَةَ شَطَّ عَنكَ مَزارُها

وَنَأَت فَفارَقَ مُقلَتَيكَ هُجوعُها

وَنَأَت فَفارَقَ مُقلَتَيكَ هُجوعُها

ʿAbla’s home—a distant place for you to visit;

For Ubil at a coast turned away from your course -

It lies remote, and sleep has forsaken your eyes.

She went in haste, so her retreating figure diminished from your sight,

فَسَقَتكِ يا أَرضَ الشَرَبَّةِ مُزنَةٌ

فَسَقَتكِ يا أَرضَ الشَرَبَّةِ مُزنَةٌ

مُنهَلَّةٌ يَروي ثَراكِ هُموعُها

مُنهَلَّةٌ يَروي ثَراكِ هُموعُها

So may a rain cloud water you, O land of al-Sharabba,

Then, O land, lush and soft, she watered you, flooding,

Pouring down, its showers soaking your soil.

With tears that poured from her, freely flowing.

وَكَسا الرَبيعُ رُباكِ مِن أَزهارِهِ

وَكَسا الرَبيعُ رُباكِ مِن أَزهارِهِ

حُلَلاً إِذا ما الأَرضُ فاحَ رَبيعُها

حُلَلاً إِذا ما الأَرضُ فاحَ رَبيعُها

And may spring, with its blossoms, clothe your hills

When, in the spring the meadows were mantled by its flowers' robes,

In robes, whenever the earth’s springtime breathes fragrance.

The land glowed when spring decked it with finery.

كَم لَيلَةٍ عانَقتُ فيها غادَةً

كَم لَيلَةٍ عانَقتُ فيها غادَةً

يَحيا بِها عِندَ المَنامِ ضَجيعُها

يَحيا بِها عِندَ المَنامِ ضَجيعُها

Many a night have I embraced a graceful maiden,

How many a dear night I spent with a fair one, lithe of form,

Whose bedfellow comes alive through her at bedtime.

Sheltering one who revived, when night fell, her languishing lover nigh.

شَمسٌ إِذا طَلَعَت سَجَدتُ جَلالَةً

شَمسٌ إِذا طَلَعَت سَجَدتُ جَلالَةً

لِجَمالِها وَجَلا الظَلامَ طُلوعُها

لِجَمالِها وَجَلا الظَلامَ طُلوعُها

A sun: when she rises, I prostrate myself in reverence

A sun, whose rising I greet on bended knee

To her beauty, and her rising dispels the darkness.

In awe before its glory, dissipating the shadows of night by its rising light.

يا عَبلَ لا تَخشَي عَلَيَّ مِنَ العِدا

يا عَبلَ لا تَخشَي عَلَيَّ مِنَ العِدا

يَوماً إِذا اِجتَمَعَت عَلَيَّ جُموعُها

يَوماً إِذا اِجتَمَعَت عَلَيَّ جُموعُها

O ʿAbla, do not fear the foe on my behalf,

O Ubil, fear not for me the foe, what day

On a day when their hosts gather against me.

Their hordes attack me, with chaos and confusion.

إِنَّ المَنِيَّةَ يا عُبَيلَةُ دَوحَةٌ

إِنَّ المَنِيَّةَ يا عُبَيلَةُ دَوحَةٌ

وَأَنا وَرُمحي أَصلُها وَفُروعُها

وَأَنا وَرُمحي أَصلُها وَفُروعُها

Indeed, death, O ʿUbayla, is a spreading tree,

For death, O Ubaylah, is loss and cross,

And I and my spear are its root and branches.

While I and my spear are its root and trunk.

وَغَداً يَمُرُّ عَلى الأَعاجِمِ مِن يَدي

وَغَداً يَمُرُّ عَلى الأَعاجِمِ مِن يَدي

كَأسٌ أَمَرُّ مِنَ السُمومِ نَقيعُها

كَأسٌ أَمَرُّ مِنَ السُمومِ نَقيعُها

And tomorrow, from my hand, there will pass among the non-Arabs

On the morrow I pass by the foreigners' abodes

A cup whose draught is more bitter than poisons.

With a cup more bitter to drink than poison deadly in its effect,

وَأُذيقُها طَعناً تَذِلُّ لِوَقعِهِ

وَأُذيقُها طَعناً تَذِلُّ لِوَقعِهِ

ساداتُها وَيَشيبُ مِنهُ رَضيعُها

ساداتُها وَيَشيبُ مِنهُ رَضيعُها

And I shall make them taste spear-thrusts whose impact humbles

Smiting them a blow to abase their lords, at which falls

Their lords, and turns their suckling babe gray-haired.

Grey-haired and suckling alike, with no distinction between dignitary and commoner.

وَإِذا جُيوشُ الكِسرَوِيِّ تَبادَرَت

وَإِذا جُيوشُ الكِسرَوِيِّ تَبادَرَت

نَحوي وَأَبدَت ما تُكِنُّ ضُلوعُها

نَحوي وَأَبدَت ما تُكِنُّ ضُلوعُها

And when the armies of the Kisrawi rush

When Cyrus's armoured companies swarmed against me,

Toward me, revealing what their ribs conceal,

Revealing feelings hidden deep within their breasts,

قاتَلتُها حَتّى تَمَلَّ وَيَشتَكي

قاتَلتُها حَتّى تَمَلَّ وَيَشتَكي

كُرَبَ الغُبارِ رَفيعُها وَوَضيعُها

كُرَبَ الغُبارِ رَفيعُها وَوَضيعُها

I fight them until they tire and complain—

I battled them until I was wearied, and they complained

Their high and low alike—of the dust’s torment.

Of the choking clouds of dust, raised by paupers and princes.

فَيَكونُ لِلأُسدِ الضَواري لَحمُها

فَيَكونُ لِلأُسدِ الضَواري لَحمُها

وَلِمَن صَحِبنا خَيلُها وَدُروعُها

وَلِمَن صَحِبنا خَيلُها وَدُروعُها

Then their flesh shall be for the ravenous lions,

Then to our lions was their meat,

And for those who accompanied us, their horses and coats of mail.

Their steeds and mail became the booty for us, their slayers.

يا عَبلَ لَو أَنَّ المَنِيَّةَ صُوِّرَت

يا عَبلَ لَو أَنَّ المَنِيَّةَ صُوِّرَت

لَغَدا إِلَيَّ سُجودُها وَرُكوعُها

لَغَدا إِلَيَّ سُجودُها وَرُكوعُها

O ʿAbla, if death were given form,

O Ubil, would that death had been depicted,

She would prostrate herself and bow before me,

It would have prostrated itself before me, bowing in worship.

وَسَطَت بِسَيفي في النُفوسِ مُبيدَةً

وَسَطَت بِسَيفي في النُفوسِ مُبيدَةً

مَن لا يُجيبُ مَقالَها وَيُطيعُها

مَن لا يُجيبُ مَقالَها وَيُطيعُها

And with my sword she would assail souls, destroying

I had smitten amongst souls with my sword, destroying,

Whoever neither heeds her words nor obeys her.

Whomsoever answered not its speech or disobeyed its commands.