مَا لِلقَوافي عُرّفت أَغفالُها

مَا لِلقَوافي عُرّفت أَغفالُها

وغَدت أنوفاً شُمّخاً أكفالُها

وغَدت أنوفاً شُمّخاً أكفالُها

What ails the rhymes, that their unbranded ones are made known,

Why have rhymes been given importance, their blunders overlooked?

and their rumps have become lofty, upturned noses?

They have become haughty noses, stubborn palms.

كَيفَ استَوَى معتلُّها بِصحيحِها

كَيفَ استَوَى معتلُّها بِصحيحِها

أَو رامَ شَأوَ المستقيمِ مُحالُها

أَو رامَ شَأوَ المستقيمِ مُحالُها

How has their faulty verse equaled their sound verse,

How can the incorrect rhyme equate with the correct?

or their absurd verse aspired to the reach of sound verse?

Or the crooked desire the path of the straight?

يَا رَحمَةً لأُسودِها أَنّى ادّعت

يَا رَحمَةً لأُسودِها أَنّى ادّعت

عَبَثاً بِها أفزارها وسِخالُها

عَبَثاً بِها أفزارها وسِخالُها

Oh, pity for their lions! How have

O how pitiful their defects are! In vain

their he-goats and kids made vain pretensions among them?

Their skirts and tatters boast.

عيثي جَعارِ فإنّما هيَ فُرصةٌ

عيثي جَعارِ فإنّما هيَ فُرصةٌ

بل غُصّة ريشَت إليك نِبالُها

بل غُصّة ريشَت إليك نِبالُها

Ravage, Jaʿār, for this is merely a chance—

Wanderer Jari, it's just an opportunity,

rather, a choking mouthful, its arrows fletched for you.

Rather a coil flying its arrows at you.

إنَّ الضّفادِع في السّباخِ إذا ادّعَت

إنَّ الضّفادِع في السّباخِ إذا ادّعَت

شَدوَ المطوّقَة استبانَ ضلالُها

شَدوَ المطوّقَة استبانَ ضلالُها

Indeed, when frogs in the salt marshes claim

When frogs in the marsh claim

the collared dove’s song, their error becomes plain.

The nightingale's song, their error shows.

وإذا الكِلابُ تَمثّلَت مُختالَةً

وإذا الكِلابُ تَمثّلَت مُختالَةً

غلَطاً فمن أذنابِها أذيالُها

غلَطاً فمن أذنابِها أذيالُها

And when dogs assume a swaggering guise,

And if dogs pretend to gracefully prance,

mistakenly—their trailing skirts are made from their tails.

Their tails will comically trail between their legs.

يا مُجرياً بخلائه لا تَفتخِر

يا مُجرياً بخلائه لا تَفتخِر

بِحُلى السّباق فما أراك تنالُها

بِحُلى السّباق فما أراك تنالُها

O you who race alone, do not boast

O runner relying on his speed, don't boast

of the race’s adornments; I do not see you winning them.

Of winning the race, for you'll never grasp it.

ما للتعاصي جدّ عندكَ جدّه

ما للتعاصي جدّ عندكَ جدّه

في قولك الأشعار قلّ رجالها

في قولك الأشعار قلّ رجالها

Why has obstinacy grown so fierce in you,

Defiance has no substance to you,

in your saying, ‘Poetry’s men are few’?

In your poetry, few are its men.

أنّى تقلّ رجالها وأنا الذي

أنّى تقلّ رجالها وأنا الذي

بيدَي تنقض أو تمرّ حبالُها

بيدَي تنقض أو تمرّ حبالُها

How can its men be few, when I am the one

How can you say few are its men, when it is I

by whose hands its ropes are unraveled or twisted tight?

Who can build it up or tear it down?

أخُطايَ تضعُفُ عَن طَريقِك في العلا

أخُطايَ تضعُفُ عَن طَريقِك في العلا

وَتعوقُها بَيداؤها وَرِمالُها

وَتعوقُها بَيداؤها وَرِمالُها

Do my steps fall short of your path to glory,

My faults weaken me from aspiring,

and do its desert and sands hold them back?

The desert and its sands hinder my path up high.

هبلتك أمّك قلّما اعتَنتِ العُلا

هبلتك أمّك قلّما اعتَنتِ العُلا

بِسِواي أو هشّت إليه رجالُها

بِسِواي أو هشّت إليه رجالُها

May your mother lose you! Rarely has glory cared

Your stupid mother seldom cared for greatness,

for anyone but me, or its men welcomed him gladly.

Or rallied her men to obtain it.

ولمفرقي أبداً يُكلّل تاجها

ولمفرقي أبداً يُكلّل تاجها

ولأخمصي أبداً تقدّ نِعالُها

ولأخمصي أبداً تقدّ نِعالُها

And its crown is ever wreathed for my head,

To my toes was never bestowed a crown,

and its sandals are ever cut for my foot’s arch.

Or my heels offered shoes.

وأسأل زماني بي فعند جهينة

وأسأل زماني بي فعند جهينة

خَبرٌ يقرّرُهُ لديك مقالُها

خَبرٌ يقرّرُهُ لديك مقالُها

And ask my age about me: with Juhaynah

I asked my time about me, and it had

is news that her account will confirm for you.

Tales corroborated by you to tell.

إن كانت الآداب تسمى صَيدحاً

إن كانت الآداب تسمى صَيدحاً

إنّي أبو غَيلانِها وبِلاَلُها

إنّي أبو غَيلانِها وبِلاَلُها

If literature is called Ṣaydaḥ,

If literature is called hunting,

I am its Abū Ghaylān and its Bilāl.

Then I am its Abu Ghaylan, its Bilal.

وَأنا عَلى حُكمِ الحَقيقَةِ شَمسُها

وَأنا عَلى حُكمِ الحَقيقَةِ شَمسُها

فاخسَأ وأنتَ عَلى المحالِ ذُبالُها

فاخسَأ وأنتَ عَلى المحالِ ذُبالُها

And by truth’s decree I am its sun;

And by the authority of truth, I am its sun,

so slink away: even in fantasy, you are only its lamp-wicks.

While you are the mirage, its delusion.

ولديك منها مُرُّها وحَرَامُها

ولديك منها مُرُّها وحَرَامُها

ولدَيّ منها حلوُها وحلالُها

ولدَيّ منها حلوُها وحلالُها

And yours are its bitterness and its forbidden portion,

You have of it the bitter and forbidden,

while mine are its sweetness and its lawful portion.

While I have of it the sweet and lawful.

ولو انَّني سَرّحتُها من قَيدِها

ولو انَّني سَرّحتُها من قَيدِها

لسَرت سُرَى طيف الكَرى أمثالُها

لسَرت سُرَى طيف الكَرى أمثالُها

And if I loosed these verses from their fetter,

Had I freed it from its bond,

their sayings would journey by night like the phantom of slumber.

It would have walked the path of glory.

فالفكرُ وهي من الأجادِل وكرها

فالفكرُ وهي من الأجادِل وكرها

والعقل وهي من الجيادِ عقالُها

والعقل وهي من الجيادِ عقالُها

For thought is their eyrie, since they are among the falcons,

Intellect restrained it when it raved deliriously,

and reason their tether, since they are among noble steeds.

And reason curbed it when it wildly bolted.

عَمري لقد أعريتها وكسوتها

عَمري لقد أعريتها وكسوتها

ثوب القناعة فالضمير حجالُها

ثوب القناعة فالضمير حجالُها

By my life, I have stripped them bare and clothed them

I have clothed it in the garb of contentment,

in contentment’s robe; the inner mind is their bridal chambers.

So conscience is its cloak.

ولو انَّني أرمي بأسهم بعضها

ولو انَّني أرمي بأسهم بعضها

زُهر النُّجوم لأقفرت أطلالُها

زُهر النُّجوم لأقفرت أطلالُها

And if I shot the arrows of some of them

And if I propelled some of my arrows,

at the shining stars, their ruins would lie deserted.

I would have emptied the mansions of the stars.

ولَقد ضَربتُ طُلى العِدَى بِقَصائِدي

ولَقد ضَربتُ طُلى العِدَى بِقَصائِدي

فسَطت علَى أسمائِهم أفعالُها

فسَطت علَى أسمائِهم أفعالُها

And I have struck the necks of foes with my poems,

With my poems I have coated the arrows of injustice,

so their deeds have assailed the foes’ names.

Spreading over their names their deeds.

إنِّي امرؤ أَسِمُ القَصائِدَ لِلعِدى

إنِّي امرؤ أَسِمُ القَصائِدَ لِلعِدى

إنَّ القَصائِدَ شَرُّها إِغفالُها

إنَّ القَصائِدَ شَرُّها إِغفالُها

Indeed, I am a man who brands poems for his foes;

I am the man who names poems for the unjust.

indeed, poems are at their worst when left unbranded.

The worst of poems is to overlook them.