سما لك شوق بعدما كان أقصر — Imru Alqays

سَما لَكَ شَوقٌ بَعدَما كانَ أَقصَرا

وَحَلَّت سُلَيمى بَطنَ قَوِّ فَعَرعَرا

Longing rose in you after it had abated,

and Sulayma settled in the valley of Qaww, then Ar'ar.

كِنانِيَّةٌ بانَت وَفي الصَدرِ وُدُّها

مُجاوِرَةٌ غَسّانَ وَالحَيُّ يَعمُرا

A woman of Kinana, she departed, her love still in my breast,

dwelling beside Ghassan, her clan being Ya'mur.

بِعَينَيَّ ظَعنُ الحَيِّ لَمّا تَحَمَّلوا

لَدى جانِبِ الأَفلاجِ مِن جَنبِ تَيمَرى

Before my eyes were the clan's traveling women as they departed,

beside al-Aflaj, on the side of Taymara.

فَشَبَّهتَهُم في الآلِ لَمّا تَكَمَّشوا

حَدائِقَ دومِ أَو سَفيناً مُقَيَّرا

So you likened them in the mirage, as they hastened away,

to groves of doum palms, or ships coated with pitch,

أَوِ المُكرَعاتِ مِن نَخيلِ اِبنِ يامِنٍ

دُوَينَ الصَفا اللائي يَلينَ المُشَقَّرا

or the water-rooted palms of Ibn Yamin,

near al-Safa, those bordering al-Mushaqqar:

سَوامِقَ جَبّارَ أَثيثٍ فُروعَهُ

وَعالَينَ قُنواناً مِنَ البُسرِ أَحمَرا

towering, giant palms with luxuriant branches,

holding aloft clusters of red, unripe dates.

حَمَتهُ بَنو الرَبداءِ مِن آلِ يامِنٍ

بِأَسيافِهِم حَتّى أَقَرَّ وَأَوقَرا

Banu al-Rabda, of the house of Yamin, protected them

with their swords until they stood firm and grew laden with fruit.

وَأَرضى بَني الرَبداءِ وَاِعتَمَّ زَهوُهُ

وَأَكمامُهُ حَتّى إِذا ما تَهَصَّرا

They pleased Banu al-Rabda; their ripening fruit grew thick,

and their blossom-sheaths too, until, when they bent beneath their load,

أَطافَت بِهِ جَيلانَ عِندَ قِطاعِهِ

تُرَدِّدُ فيهِ العَينَ حَتّى تَحَيَّرا

Jilan gathered around them at harvest,

turning their gaze over them until they were bewildered.

كَأَنَّ دُمى شَغف عَلى ظَهرِ مَرمَرٍ

كَسا مُزبِدَ الساجومِ وَشياً مُصَوَّرا

As though they were statues of Shaghaf upon a marble surface

that clothed the foaming al-Sajum in figured brocade.

غَرائِرُ في كَنٍّ وَصَونٍ وَنِعمَةٌ

يُحَلَّينَ ياقوتاً وَشَذراً مُفَقَّرا

Innocent maidens, sheltered, guarded, and living in luxury,

adorned with rubies and spaced beads of gold,

وَريحَ سَناً في حُقَّةٍ حِميَرِيَّةٍ

تُخَصُّ بِمَفروكٍ مِنَ المِسكِ أَذفَرا

and the scent of sana in a Himyarite casket,

enriched with crumbled, pungently fragrant musk,

وَباناً وَأُلوِيّاً مِنَ الهِندِ داكِياً

وَرَنداً وَلُبنىً وَالكِباءَ المُقَتَّرا

and ben oil, and richly fragrant Indian aloeswood,

and laurel, storax, and incense burned to smoke.

غَلِقنَ بِرَهنٍ مِن حَبيبٍ بِهِ اِدَّعَت

سُلَيمى فَأَمسى حَبلُها قَد تَبَتَّرا

They became bound by a lover's pledge, claimed by

Sulayma; so her bond had now been severed.

وَكانَ لَها في سالِفِ الدَهرِ خُلَّةٌ

يُسارِقُ بِالطَرفِ الخِباءَ المُسَتَّرا

In days long past she had an intimate friend,

stealing glances toward her screened tent.

إِذا نالَ مِنها نَظرَةً ريعَ قَلبُهُ

كَما ذُعِرَت كَأسُ الصَبوحِ المُخَمَّرا

Whenever he gained a glance from her, his heart was startled,

as a cup of morning wine startles a wine-befuddled man.

نَزيفٌ إِذا قامَت لِوَجهٍ تَمايَلَت

تُراشي الفُؤادَ الرَخصَ أَلّا تَخَتَّرا

As though drunken, when she rose to go somewhere she swayed,

coaxing the tender heart not to grow languid.

أَأَسماءُ أَمسى وُدُّها قَد تَغَيَّرا

سَنُبدِلُ إِن أَبدَلتِ بِالوُدِّ آخَرا

Asma—has her love now changed?

We shall give our love to another, if you change yours.

تَذَكَّرتُ أَهلي الصالِحينَ وَقَد أَتَت

عَلى خَمَلى خوصُ الرِكابِ وَأَوجَرا

I remembered my good kin, when already

the narrow-eyed riding camels had crossed Khamla and Awjar.

فَلَمّا بَدا حَورانُ وَالآلُ دونَهُا

نَظَرتَ فَلَم تَنظُر بِعَينَيكَ مَنظَرا

When Hauran appeared, with the mirage before it,

you looked, but your eyes could make out no sight.

تَقَطَّعُ أَسبابُ اللُبانَةِ وَالهَوى

عَشِيَّةَ جاوَزنا حَماةَ وَشَيزَرا

The bonds of desire and love were severed

on the evening we passed Hama and Shayzar,

بِسَيرٍ يَضُجُّ العَودُ مِنهُ يَمُنُّهُ

أَخو الجَهدِ لا يُلوي عَلى مَن تَعَذَّرا

at a pace that made the old camel groan, worn down by

a man of hardship, never turning back for one who offered excuses.

وَلَم يُنسِني ما قَد لَقيتُ ظَعائِناً

وَخَملاً لَها كَالقَرِّ يَوماً مُخَدَّرا

Yet what I had endured did not make me forget the traveling women,

or their soft coverings, like a palanquin curtained that day,

كَأَثلٍ مِنَ الأَعراضِ مِن دونِ بَيشَةٍ

وَدونَ الغُمَيرِ عامِداتٍ لِغَضوَرا

like tamarisks in the valleys this side of Bisha,

and this side of al-Ghumayr, heading toward Ghadwar.

فَدَع ذا وَسَل لا هُمَّ عَنكَ بِجِسرَةٍ

ذُمولٍ إِذا صامَ النَهارُ وَهَجَّرا

So leave that, and shake care off you—may you have none—with a sturdy she-camel,

a steady trotter when the day stands still and enters the noon heat.

تُقَطِّعُ غيطاناً كَأَنَّ مُتونَها

إِذا أَظهَرَت تُكسي مُلاءً مُنَشَّرا

She crosses lowlands whose surfaces seem,

when she travels at noon, to be draped in sheets spread wide.

بَعيدَةُ بَينَ المَنكِبَينِ كَأَنَّما

تَرى عِندَ مَجرى الضَفرِ هِرّاً مُشَجَّرا

Broad between the shoulders, as though

you saw where the girth runs a cat rearing up.

تُطايِرُ ظِرّانَ الحَصى بِمَناسِمٍ

صِلابِ العُجى مَلثومُها غَيرُ أَمعَرا

She sends flint pebbles flying with footpads

hard in sinew, their rounded fronts not rubbed bare.

كَأَنَّ الحَصى مِن خَلفِها وَأَمامِها

إِذا نَجَلَتهُ رِجلُها خَذفُ أَعسَرا

The pebbles behind and before her seem,

when her foot kicks them, like a left-hander's pebble-flicks.

كَأَنَّ صَليلَ المَروِ حينَ تُشِذُّهُ

صَليلِ زُيوفٍ يُنتَقَدنَ بِعَبقَرا

The ringing of quartz, when she scatters it, seems

the ringing of false coins being tested in Abqar.

عَلَيها فَتىً لَم تَحمِلِ الأَرضُ مِثلَهُ

أَبَرَّ بِميثاقٍ وَأَوفى وَأَصبَرا

Upon her rides a young man whose equal the earth has never borne,

more true to a covenant, more faithful, or more patient.

هُوَ المُنزِلُ الآلافَ مِن جَوِّ ناعِطٍ

بَني أَسَدٍ حَزناً مِنَ الأَرضِ أَوعَرا

He brought thousands down from the valley of Na'it,

Banu Asad, into rough and rugged terrain.

وَلَو شاءَ كانَ الغَزوُ مِن أَرضِ حِميَرٍ

وَلَكِنَّهُ عَمداً إِلى الرومِ أَنفَرا

Had he wished, the raid could have set out from Himyar's land,

but he deliberately marched out toward the Romans.

بَكى صاحِبي لَمّا رَأى الدَربَ دونَهُ

وَأَيقَنَ أَنّا لاحِقانِ بِقَيصَرا

My companion wept when he saw the pass before him,

and knew for certain that we two would reach Caesar.

فَقُلتُ لَهُ لا تَبكِ عَينُكَ إِنَّما

نُحاوِلُ مُلكاً أَو نَموتَ فَنُعذَرا

I said to him, “Let your eye not weep; we only

seek a kingdom, or die and be held blameless.”

وَإِنّي زَعيمٌ إِن رَجِعتُ مُمَلَّكاً

بِسَيرٍ تَرى مِنهُ الفُرانِقَ أَزوَرا

And I pledge, if I return made king,

a pace that will make you see the courier bent sideways,

عَلى لاحِبٍ لا يَهتَدي بِمَنارِهِ

إِذا سافَهُ العَودُ النُباطِيُّ جَرجَرا

on a well-worn road whose waymarks offer no guidance:

when the old Nabataean camel sniffs it, it groans.

عَلى كُلِّ مَقصوصِ الذُنابى مُعاوِدٍ

بَريدَ السَرى بِاللَيلِ مِن خَيلِ بَربَرا

On every dock-tailed mount accustomed to

nighttime courier stages, from the horses of Barbar,

أَقَبَّ كَسَرحانِ الغَضى مُتَمَطِّرٍ

تَرى الماءَ مِن أَعطافِهِ قَد تَحَدَّرا

lean-bellied as a wolf of the ghada thickets, racing outstretched,

you see water streaming down its flanks.

إِذا زُعتُهُ مِن جانِبَيهِ كِلَيهِما

مَشى الهَيدَبى في دَفِّهِ ثُمَّ فَرفَرا

When I urge it on from both its sides,

it moves in a strutting, flank-swaying gait, then bounds ahead.

إِذا قُلتُ رَوَّحنا أَرَنَّ فُرانِقٌ

عَلى جَلعَدٍ واهي الأَباجِلِ أَبتَرا

Whenever I say, “We travel at evening,” a courier cries out,

on a stout, dock-tailed mount with slack leg-veins.

لَقَد أَنكَرَتني بَعلَبَكُّ وَأَهلُها

وَلَاِبنُ جُرَيجٍ في قُرى حِمصَ أَنكَرا

Baalbek and its people indeed failed to recognize me,

and Ibn Jurayj, in the villages of Homs, was more unwelcoming.

نَشيمُ بَروقَ المُزنِ أَينَ مُصابُهُ

وَلا شَيءَ يُشفي مِنكِ يا اِبنَةَ عَفزَرا

We scan the rainclouds' lightning for where their rain will fall,

but nothing cures my longing for you, daughter of Afzar.

مِنَ القاصِراتِ الطَرفِ لَو دَبَّ مُحوِلٍ

مِنَ الذَرِّ فَوقَ الإِتبِ مِنها لَأَثَّرا

One of those who restrain their gaze: if a year-old one crept,

one of the tiny ants, upon her shift, it would leave a mark.

لَهُ الوَيلُ إِن أَمسى وَلا أُمُّ هاشِمٍ

قَريبٌ وَلا البَسباسَةُ اِبنَةَ يَشكُرا

Woe to him if he reaches evening with neither Umm Hashim

nearby, nor al-Basbasa, daughter of Yashkur.

أَرى أُمَّ عَمروٍ دَمعُها قَد تَحَدَّرا

بُكاءً عَلى عَمروٍ وَما كانَ أَصبَرا

I see Umm Amr, her tears streaming down,

weeping for Amr—how patient he was!

إِذا نَحنُ سِرنا خَمسَ عَشرَةَ لَيلَةٍ

وَراءَ الحِساءِ مِن مَدافِعِ قَيصَرا

When we had traveled fifteen nights

beyond al-Hisa, among Caesar's watercourses,

إِذا قُلتُ هَذا صاحِبٌ قَد رَضيتُهُ

وَقَرَّت بِهِ العَينانِ بُدِّلتُ آخَرا

whenever I say, “Here is a friend I am content with,”

and my eyes find comfort in him, I am given another in his place.

كَذَلِكَ جَدّي ما أُصاحِبُ صاحِب

مِنَ الناسِ إِلّا خانَني وَتَغَيَّرا

Such is my fortune: I befriend no companion

among men but he betrays me and changes.

وَكُنّا أُناساً قَبلَ غَزوَةِ قُرمُلٍ

وَرَثنا الغِنى وَالمَجدَ أَكبَرَ أَكبَرا

We were a people, before Qurmul's raid,

inheriting wealth and glory, elder from elder.

وَما جَبُنَت خَيلي وَلَكِن تَذَكَّرَت

مَرابِطَها في بَربَعيصَ وَمَيسَرا

My horses did not lose courage; they only remembered

their tethering places in Barba'is and Maysar.

أَلا رُبَّ يَومٍ صالِحٍ قَد شَهِدتُهُ

بِتاذِفَ ذاتِ التَلِّ مِن فَوقِ طَرطَرا

Ah, many a good day I have witnessed

at Tadhif, with its hill, above Tartar.

وَلا مِثلَ يَومٍ في قُدارانَ ظِلتُهُ

كَأَنّي وَأَصحابي عَلى قَرنِ أَعفَرا

And nothing matched the day I spent in Qudaran,

as though my companions and I were on a tawny gazelle's horn.

وَنَشرَبُ حَتّى نَحسِبَ الخَيلَ حَولَنا

نِقاداً وَحَتّى نَحسِبَ الجَونَ أَشقَرا

We drink until we take the horses around us

for small sheep, and take the black horse for a chestnut.