Sol 6.1

  1. مدحتُكمُ علماً بأنّ مدائحي

    تضيع وتُذْرى في الرّياحِ العواصفِ

    I praised you, knowing that my praises

    go to waste, scattered in the stormy winds.

  2. فلم أكُ إلّا موقداً في ظهيرةٍ

    بلا صَرَدٍ أو هاتفاً في تنائفِ

    Thus I was only one kindling a fire at noon

    without a chill, or calling out in desert wastes.

  3. وإنّ لكمْ عندي حقوقاً كثيرةً

    أبى لِي حِفاظِي مَحْوَها من صحائِفي

    Yet you have many claims upon me,

    which my fidelity would not let me erase from my pages.

  4. جزيتُكمُ عنها ولم تشعروا بها

    مراراً بأسبابٍ خِفاءٍ لطائفِ

    I repaid you for them, though you never knew it,

    repeatedly, through hidden, subtle means.

  5. وَشاطرتُكمْ منّي المودّةَ كلَّها

    شطارِيَ ما بين الشّريك المناصفِ

    I shared with you all the affection I had,

    as I would with a partner who shares equally.

  6. فإنْ لم توفّوا حقَّ ما قيل فيكُمُ

    فلم تُبتلوا إلّا بنقصِ العوارفِ

    If you did not repay the due of what was said about you,

    your only affliction was a want of kindness.

  7. وليتكُمُ لمّا تركتمْ حقوقَها

    رَجعتمْ إلى عرفانِ بعض المعارفِ

    Would that, when you neglected what was due to those praises,

    you had turned to acknowledging some acquaintances.

  8. فما ضرَّ لو أعظمتُمُ ما أتاكُمُ

    فلم يَكُ مُولٍ للجميلِ بآسِفِ

    What harm if you had prized what came to you?

    Then no giver of kindness would have felt regret.

  9. وَإلّا تَجمّلتمْ على غير خبرةٍ

    فكم ذا غَطَى التّحسينُ سوأَةَ زائفِ

    Or else you might have shown grace without understanding;

    how often has embellishment concealed a fraud's shame!

  10. فإن عِفتُمُ ما لم تكونوا عرفتُمُ

    فكمُ بُلِيَ العَذْبُ الرِّواءُ بعائفِ

    If you spurned what you had never known,

    sweet, thirst-quenching water has often met a scorner.

  11. فيا ضيعةً للطّالعاتِ إليكُمُ

    طلوعَ المطايا من خلالِ النّفانِفِ

    Oh, what a waste of the praises rising toward you,

    like riding beasts emerging through the desert wastes!

  12. أبيتُ أَروضُ الصَّعْبَ منها وإنّها

    تحيصُ شِمَاسَ المائِلِ المتجانِفِ

    I spend the night taming the unruly among them, while they

    swerve with the restiveness of one turning and veering away.

  13. وأُكرِهها سَوْقاً إليكمْ ولم تزلْ

    تحايَدُ عنكمْ بالطُّلى والسّوالِفِ

    I force them onward toward you, while all along

    they turn their throats and necks away from you.

  14. كأنِّيَ أهديهِنَّ نحو بيوتكمْ

    أقود إلى العهّارِ بعضَ العَفائِفِ

    It is as though, guiding them toward your houses,

    I were leading some chaste women to libertines.

  15. أبَيْنَ ولم يأبَيْنَ شيئاً سواكُمُ

    وَما كُنّ إلّا ليّناتِ المعاطِفِ

    They refused—and refused nothing but you—

    though they had always been supple of flank.

  16. وكنتُ وقد وصّفتُ ما تاه عندكمْ

    أوَدُّ وداداً أنّني غيرُ واصفِ

    And, having described what was lost on you,

    I dearly wished that I had never described it.

  17. وَما غرّنِي إلّا مشيرٌ بمدحكمْ

    وكم عارفٍ يقتادُهُ غيرُ عارفِ

    Nothing deceived me but an adviser urging your praise;

    how many a knowing man is led by one who does not know!

  18. فخالفتُ حزمي سالكاً غيرَ مذهبي

    وما كنتُ يوماً للحِجى بمخالفِ

    So I defied my prudence, following a path not mine,

    though never had I been one to defy reason.

  19. وَكيف اِمتِداحُ المرءِ مَن ليس عنده

    مفارقةٌ ما بين مُثنٍ وقاذفِ

    How can a man praise someone who sees no

    distinction between a praiser and a slanderer?

  20. له العِرْضُ لا سِلْمٌ به لمديحةٍ

    ولا كان يوماً للثّناء بآلفِ

    His honor has no truce with a poem of praise,

    nor has it ever been accustomed to acclaim.

  21. وكم لِيَ فيكمْ من صديقٍ كأنّه

    سرابٌ على قِيعانِ بُعدٍ صفاصِفِ

    How many a friend I have among you who is like

    a mirage on far-off, bare and level plains.

  22. متى يُدعَ يوماً للوغى فهشيمةٌ

    تصفّقها أيدي الرّياحِ الرّفارِفِ

    Whenever he is called to battle, he is dry brushwood

    buffeted by the hands of fluttering winds.

  23. أودُّ إذا ما سُمتُهُ النَّصْرَ أنّنِي

    أُبدَّلُ منه بالعدوِّ المكاشفِ

    When I ask him for help, I wish

    I could exchange him for an openly hostile enemy.

  24. وقد كنتُ أرجو طوعَه بنصيحتي

    فلا خيرَ في نصحٍ يُساق بعانفِ

    I had hoped he would willingly offer me sincere counsel;

    there is no good in counsel wrung out by force.

  25. فيا لك من ودٍّ تعلّق منكُمُ

    سَفاهاً بأسبابٍ ركاكٍ ضعائفِ

    Oh, the affection that fastened itself to you,

    foolishly, by flimsy, feeble ties!

  26. سُرِرْتُ به حيناً فلمّا بلوتُهُ

    بكيتُ عليه بالدّموعِ الذّوارفِ

    I rejoiced in it for a time, but when I tested it,

    I wept over it with streaming tears.

  27. وكنتُ إذا ما رابنِي وُدُّ صاحبٍ

    وناءَ بأخلاقٍ لئامٍ سخائفِ

    Whenever a friend's affection roused my doubt,

    and he was weighed down with base and foolish traits,

  28. قذفتُ جميلاً كان بيني وبينه

    وإنْ كنتُ ذا ضنٍّ به في القواذفِ

    I flung the kindness that had lain between us,

    though loath to part with it, into the far-off wastes.

  29. تريدون مِنّا أن نُسِرّ ولاءكمْ

    وفي أنّنا نُبديه كلُّ التّكالُفِ

    You want us to harbor loyalty to you in secret,

    yet even displaying it is sheer affectation.

  30. فلا تسألونا ما تجنّ قلوبُنا

    فإِنّ بناتِ الصّدرِ غيرُ خفائفِ

    So do not ask us what our hearts conceal:

    the daughters of the breast are no light things.

  31. وداويتُمُ منّا خدوشَ جلودِنا

    وأعْرَضتُمُ عن أسْوِكُمْ للجوائفِ

    You treated the scratches on our skin,

    but turned away from healing our deep wounds.

  32. فماذا وأنتمْ في الحضيض غباوةً

    إذا ضُرِبتْ خيْماتُكمْ في المشارفِ

    What then—you who are so foolish on low ground—

    if your tents were pitched upon the heights?

  33. ولمّا وقفنا ظلّةً بطلولكمْ

    رجعنا ولم نظفرْ بمُنْيةِ واقفِ

    When we stood like a canopy beside your ruined dwellings,

    we returned without attaining a visitor's desire.

  34. كأنِّيَ منكمْ فوق غبراءَ قفرةٍ

    على ظالعاتٍ من مطيٍّ عجائفِ

    With you, I feel as though upon a dusty, barren land,

    on limping, emaciated riding camels.

  35. يَعُدْنَ عشيّاتٍ ذواتَ تسادُكٍ

    وَقد كنّ أصباحاً ذواتَ عجارفِ

    They return at evening, huddling against one another,

    though in the mornings they had been fierce and headstrong.

  36. فلا تطمعوا في مثلهنّ فإنّما

    يصلْنَ لطُلّاعِ الثّنايا الغطارفِ

    So do not hope for their like: they come only

    to noble lords who scale the mountain passes.

  37. أُناسٌ يخوضون الرّدى وأكفُّهمْ

    تهزّ أنابيبَ القِنيِّ الرّواعفِ

    Men who plunge into death while their hands

    brandish the shafts of blood-dripping spears.

  38. كرامٌ فلا ساحاتُهمْ مستضامةٌ

    ولا جارهمْ في النّائباتِ بخائفِ

    Noble men: their precincts are never violated,

    nor does their neighbor fear amid calamities.

  39. وَلم يَسكنوا إلّا ظِلالَ عظيمةٍ

    وَلَم يأمنوا إلّا خلالَ المخاوفِ

    They have dwelt only in the shade of mighty enterprise,

    and felt safe only amid terrors.

  40. دعِ الذّلَّ في دار الثَّواءِ ولا تُقِمْ

    على أَمَلٍ بين البِطاءِ الخوالفِ

    Leave abasement in the place of settled life; do not linger

    in hope among the slow ones who hang back.

  41. وكنْ آنِفاً مِن أنْ تُقيمَ على أذىً

    بجنبِ غِنىً فالميتُ ليس بآنِفِ

    Be too proud to remain under harm

    beside riches; a dead man feels no indignation.

  42. فخيرٌ من القصر المشيد بجنّةٍ

    سُرىً في ظهور اليَعْمَلاتِ الخوانِفِ

    For better than a lofty palace in a garden

    is night travel on the backs of strong, swaying she-camels.

  43. إذا ما هَبَطْن الرّملَ رمْلَ مُغَمَّسٍ

    زحفن ولا زَحْفَ الصّلالِ الزّواحفِ

    When they descend into the sands, the sands of Mughammas,

    they crawl as even creeping vipers cannot.

  44. حَمَلْن الرَّجا والخوفَ فينا على الوَجا

    ونقّلنَ مِنّا كلَّ شاتٍ وصائفِ

    They bear the hope and fear within us, despite sore feet,

    and carry every winter and summer traveler among us.

  45. لهنّ على وادي مِنيً كلَّ حجّةٍ

    بروكٌ وقد قضّين كلَّ المواقفِ

    Beside the valley of Mina, at every pilgrimage,

    they kneel, having completed all the stations.

  46. فكمْ قد نجونا من ردىً ذُقْنَ دونه

    ليُنجيننا منه ذُعافَ المتالِفِ

    How often we have escaped death, while they tasted on its brink—

    to save us from it—the lethal venom of destruction.