وَلَم تَحمَ عَبدُ اللَهِ لا دَرَّ دَرُّها

وَلَم تَحمَ عَبدُ اللَهِ لا دَرَّ دَرُّها

عَلى خَيرِ قَتلاها وَلَم تَحمَ جَعفَرُ

عَلى خَيرِ قَتلاها وَلَم تَحمَ جَعفَرُ

And ʿAbd Allāh felt no outrage—may her milk run dry!—

Abdullah's servant did not protect, her pearls no longer glisten,

over the best of her slain; nor did Jaʿfar.

Nor did Ja'far, though slain in glorious battle,

وَلَم تَحمَ أَولادُ الضَبابِ كَأَنَّما

وَلَم تَحمَ أَولادُ الضَبابِ كَأَنَّما

تُساقُ بِهِم وَسطَ الصَريمَةِ أَبكُرُ

تُساقُ بِهِم وَسطَ الصَريمَةِ أَبكُرُ

Nor did the sons of al-Ḍabāb feel outrage, as though

Nor the lads of Dhubyan, led to death unresisting,

young camels were being driven for them amid the thicket.

Through the wait-thicket at dawn as though goats to the slaughter.

وَدَوكُم غَضا الوادي فَلَم تَكُ دِمنَةٌ

وَدَوكُم غَضا الوادي فَلَم تَكُ دِمنَةٌ

وَلا تِرَةٌ يَسعى بِها المُتَذَكِّرُ

وَلا تِرَةٌ يَسعى بِها المُتَذَكِّرُ

They paid you the valley’s ghada trees as blood money, so there was no rancor,

Your blood wherein Wolf Gorge lay soaked

nor any blood-debt that one who remembers might pursue.

Was no pool muddied for the remembered to ponder,

أَجِدَّكُمُ لَم تَمنَعوا الدَهرَ تَلعَةً

أَجِدَّكُمُ لَم تَمنَعوا الدَهرَ تَلعَةً

كَما مَنَعَت عُرضَ الحِجازِ مُبَشِّرُ

كَما مَنَعَت عُرضَ الحِجازِ مُبَشِّرُ

Is it true you have never defended a ravine,

Yet, kinsmen, you allowed no respite for Time to boast

as Mubashshir defended the reaches of the Hijaz?

That he had robbed Hijaz of honour and defender.

لَوَشكانَ ما أَعطَيتَني القَومَ عَنوَةً

لَوَشكانَ ما أَعطَيتَني القَومَ عَنوَةً

هِيَ السُنَّةُ الشَنعاءُ وَالطَعنُ يَظأَرُ

هِيَ السُنَّةُ الشَنعاءُ وَالطَعنُ يَظأَرُ

How swiftly you handed the people over to me under duress!

Had you begrudged me the men, you had treated me foully;

Such is the hideous custom, and spear-thrusts compel submission.

Such, alas, is the wont of the bitter cynic's slander;

لَشَتّانَ حَربٌ أَو تَبوءوا بِخِزيَةٍ

لَشَتّانَ حَربٌ أَو تَبوءوا بِخِزيَةٍ

وَقَد يَقبَلُ الضَيمَ الذَليلُ المُسَيَّرُ

وَقَد يَقبَلُ الضَيمَ الذَليلُ المُسَيَّرُ

What a gulf between war and your returning in disgrace!

War, not abasement, may visit a man; and the spiritless

And the abject man, driven about, may accept oppression.

May yet bow under humiliation's burden.