فَرُبَّ رَبيعٍ بِالبَلاليقِ قَد رَعَت

فَرُبَّ رَبيعٍ بِالبَلاليقِ قَد رَعَت

بِمُستَنِّ أَغياثٍ بِعاقَ ذُكورُها

بِمُستَنِّ أَغياثٍ بِعاقَ ذُكورُها

Many a spring pasture at al-Balaliq they have grazed,

Many a spring the water buckets at dawn have come round,

Along channels of rain, its male clouds pouring torrents.

With the sound of the drivers' cries at early morning drawing water,

تَحَدَّرَ قَبلَ النَجمِ مِمّا أَمامَهُ

تَحَدَّرَ قَبلَ النَجمِ مِمّا أَمامَهُ

مِنَ الدَلوِ وَالأَشراطِ يَجري غَضيرُها

مِنَ الدَلوِ وَالأَشراطِ يَجري غَضيرُها

Rain descended before the Pleiades, from those preceding them—

Coming down toward the star from before it

The Bucket and the Signs—their abundant waters flowing.

From the water-channel and Aquarius the water pourer.

أَلَم تَعلَمي أَنّي إِذا القِدرُ حُجِّلَت

أَلَم تَعلَمي أَنّي إِذا القِدرُ حُجِّلَت

وَأُلقِيَ عَن وَجهِ الفَتاةِ سُتورُها

وَأُلقِيَ عَن وَجهِ الفَتاةِ سُتورُها

Did you not know that, with me, when the cauldron is white-rimmed,

Don't you know when the fateful time comes

And the maiden's veils are swept from her face,

And the maiden's veil is lifted from her face,

وَراحَت تَشِلُّ الشَولَ وَالفَحلُ خَلفَها

وَراحَت تَشِلُّ الشَولَ وَالفَحلُ خَلفَها

زَفيفاً إِلى نيرانِها زَمهَريرُها

زَفيفاً إِلى نيرانِها زَمهَريرُها

And at evening it drives the dry she-camels, the stallion behind them,

She goes along jangling anklets and behind her the stallion,

Hurrying toward its fires—its bitter-cold wind,

With a whistling sound to its fireside, the branding iron glowing?

شَآمِيَةٌ تُفشي الخَفائِرَ نارُها

شَآمِيَةٌ تُفشي الخَفائِرَ نارُها

وَنَبحُ كِلابِ الحَيِّ فيها هَريرُها

وَنَبحُ كِلابِ الحَيِّ فيها هَريرُها

A Syrian wind, whose fire exposes the bashful women,

A Samian cup gives out the secrets of its fire,

And the camp dogs' barking in it is only their growling;

And the howling of the quarter's dogs goes on in it.

إِذا الأُفُقُ الغَربِيُّ أَمسى كَأَنَّهُ

إِذا الأُفُقُ الغَربِيُّ أَمسى كَأَنَّهُ

سَدى أُرجُوانٍ وَاِستَقَلَّت عَبورُها

سَدى أُرجُوانٍ وَاِستَقَلَّت عَبورُها

When the western horizon at evening seems

When the west horizon at evening seems as though

A crimson warp, and its Sirius rises high—

It were Myrobalan purple, and the wagons have gotten through,

تَرى النيبَ مِن ضَيفي إِذا ما رَأَينَهُ

تَرى النيبَ مِن ضَيفي إِذا ما رَأَينَهُ

ضُموزاً عَلى جَرّاتِها ما تُحيرُها

ضُموزاً عَلى جَرّاتِها ما تُحيرُها

At the sight of my guest you see the aged she-camels

You see my guest if he sees them

Silent over their cud, not bringing it back up.

Drawing together in confusion over their wine-skins—it bewilders them—

يُحاذِرنَ مِن سَيفي إِذا ما رَأَينَهُ

يُحاذِرنَ مِن سَيفي إِذا ما رَأَينَهُ

مَعي قائِماً حَتّى يَكوسَ عَقيرُها

مَعي قائِماً حَتّى يَكوسَ عَقيرُها

They dread my sword whenever they see it

Taking care because of my sword if they see it

Upright beside me, until their hamstrung one topples.

With me, standing erect until their herd is hobbled;

وَقَد عَلِمَت أَنَّ القِرى لِاِبنِ غالِبٍ

وَقَد عَلِمَت أَنَّ القِرى لِاِبنِ غالِبٍ

ذُراها إِذا لَم يَقرِ ضَيفاً دَرورُها

ذُراها إِذا لَم يَقرِ ضَيفاً دَرورُها

And they know that Ibn Ghalib's fare for guests

And she has known that for the son of Galib

Is their humps, if their flowing milk fails to feed a guest.

The parts of her abode are a gift if he does not drive off their cattle;

شَقَقنا عَنِ الأَولادِ بِالسَيفِ بَطنَها

شَقَقنا عَنِ الأَولادِ بِالسَيفِ بَطنَها

وَلَمّا تُجَلَّد وَهيَ يَحبو بَقيرُها

وَلَمّا تُجَلَّد وَهيَ يَحبو بَقيرُها

We slit her belly with the sword, exposing her young,

We split open because of the sword the bellies of their big ones,

Before she is flayed, her cut-out calf already crawling.

And when the cattle brutes bellowed I ripped them to tatters;

وَنُبِّئتُ ذا الأَهدامِ يَعوي وَدونَهُ

وَنُبِّئتُ ذا الأَهدامِ يَعوي وَدونَهُ

مِنَ الشَأمِ ذَرّاعاتُها وَقُصورُها

مِنَ الشَأمِ ذَرّاعاتُها وَقُصورُها

And I was told the wearer of rags howls, with

And I warned the short-haired one who shrieks over them,

Syria's broad expanses and its palaces between him and me,

Beyond us from Syria their mansions and castles;

إِلَيَّ وَلَم أَترُك عَلى الأَرضِ حَيَّةً

إِلَيَّ وَلَم أَترُك عَلى الأَرضِ حَيَّةً

وَلا نابِحاً إِلّا اِستَسَرَّ عَقورُها

وَلا نابِحاً إِلّا اِستَسَرَّ عَقورُها

At me; yet I have left no snake upon the earth,

Toward me —and I left no living thing on earth,

Nor barking beast, without its vicious ones hiding away.

Nor one that howls except I veiled its dens;

كِلاباً نَبَحنَ اللَيثَ مِن كُلِّ جانِبٍ

كِلاباً نَبَحنَ اللَيثَ مِن كُلِّ جانِبٍ

فَعادَ عُواءً بَعدَ نَبحٍ هَريرُها

فَعادَ عُواءً بَعدَ نَبحٍ هَريرُها

Dogs barked at the lion from every side,

Dogs that barked at the lion from every side,

Then their growling turned to howling after their barking.

Then their howling turned to whimpering after their barking.

عَوى بِشَقاً لِاِبنَي بُحَيرٍ وَدونَنا

عَوى بِشَقاً لِاِبنَي بُحَيرٍ وَدونَنا

نِضادٌ فَأَعلامُ السِتارِ فَنيرُها

نِضادٌ فَأَعلامُ السِتارِ فَنيرُها

He howled at Shaqa for the two sons of Buhayr, with

He howled in earnest at the sons of Buḥair while around us

Nidad, then al-Sitar's heights, then its Nir between us.

Were our assailants, and the banners of the curtain were woven.

وَنُبِّئتُ كَلبَ اِبنَي حُمَيضَةَ قَد عَوى

وَنُبِّئتُ كَلبَ اِبنَي حُمَيضَةَ قَد عَوى

إِلَيَّ وَنارُ الحَربِ تَغلي قُدورُها

إِلَيَّ وَنارُ الحَربِ تَغلي قُدورُها

And I was told the dog of Humayda's two sons had howled

And I warned the dog of the sons of Ḥumaidhah, for he had howled

At me, while war's fire set its cauldrons boiling.

At me, and the fires of war boiled their pots;

وَوَدَّت مَكانَ الأَنفِ لَو كانَ نافِعٌ

وَوَدَّت مَكانَ الأَنفِ لَو كانَ نافِعٌ

لَها حَيضَةٌ أَو أَعجَلَتها شُهورُها

لَها حَيضَةٌ أَو أَعجَلَتها شُهورُها

She wished, instead of pride, that Nafiʿ had been

In place of the nose she wanted, if it would have helped her,

A menstrual flow for her—or that her months had hurried her delivery.

Ḥaidhah or faster for her the months.