يا دار دار الصوم القوم — Sharif Al Murtaza

يا دارُ دارَ الصُّوّمِ القُوّمِ

كيف خلا أُفقُكِ من أَنجُمِ

O dwelling, dwelling of those who fast and stand in prayer,

how has your horizon become empty of stars?

عَهدي بها يرتع سكّانُها

في ظلِّ عيشٍ بينها أَنعَمِ

I knew it when its inhabitants lived at ease,

in the shade of the sweetest life within it.

لم يُصبحوا فيها لوم يغبُقوا

إلّا بِكَأسَي خَمْرَةِ الأنْعَمِ

They neither greeted morning there nor drank at dusk,

save with the two cups of the wine of blessings.

بَكيتُها مِن أَدمُعٍ لو أَبَتْ

بكيتُها واقعةً من دمِ

I wept for it with tears; had they refused,

I would have wept for it with falling drops of blood.

وعُجتُ فيها راثياً أهلَها

سَواهِمَ الأوصالِ والمَلْطَمِ

I turned aside there, mourning its people,

on mounts gaunt in limbs and cheeks.

نَحَلنَ حتّى حالهنّ السُّرى

بعضَ بقايا شَطَنٍ مُبْرَمِ

They wasted away until night travel turned them into

mere remnants of a tightly twisted rope.

لم يدعِ الإسآدُ هاماتِها

إلّا سَقيطاتٍ على المَنْسِمِ

Unbroken night travel left their heads

only drooping down upon their hooves.

يا صاحبي يومَ أَزالَ الجَوى

لحمي بِخدَّيَّ عن الأعظُمِ

O my companion, on the day anguish stripped

the flesh of my cheeks from the bones,

داويتَ ما أَنت به عالمٌ

ودائِيَ المعضلُ لم تعلمِ

you treated what you knew,

but my intractable malady you did not know.

ولستُ فيما أَنَا صبٌّ به

مَنْ قَرَن السّالِيَ بالمُغرَمِ

In what I am enamored of, I am not

one to equate the heart-free with the love-stricken.

وَجْدِي بغير الظّعنِ سيّارةً

من مَخْرِمٍ ناءٍ إلى مَخْرِمِ

My longing is not for women journeying in litters

from a distant mountain pass to another,

ولا بلفّاءَ هضيمِ الحشا

ولا بذاتِ الجِيد والمِعْصَمِ

nor for a full-thighed woman, slender of waist,

nor for a woman of lovely neck and wrist.

فَاِسمَعْ زفيري عند ذكر الأُلى

بالطَّفَّ بين الذّئبِ والقَشْعَمِ

So hear my sighing at the mention of those

at al-Taff, between the wolf and the old vulture,

طَرْحى فإمّا مُقعَصٌ بالقَنا

أَو سائلُ النّفسِ على مِخْذَمِ

cast down—either slain outright by spears,

or spilling their lifeblood upon a keen sword.

نَثْرٌ كدُرٍّ بَدَدٍ مُهْمَلٌ

لغفلةِ السِّلكِ فلم يُنْظَمِ

Scattered like loose pearls, left neglected,

through neglect of the thread, and so never strung.

كأنّما الغَبراءُ مَرْمِيَّةٌ

مِن قِبَلِ الخضراءِ بالأنجمِ

As though the dusty earth had been pelted

with stars from the green sky.

دُعُوا فجاؤوا كرَاماً منهمُ

كم غرّ قوماً قَسَمُ المُقسِمِ

They were summoned and came, noble as they were;

how often an oath-taker's oath has deceived a people!

حتّى رأوْها أخْرَياتِ الدُّجى

طوالعاً من رَهَجٍ أقْتَمِ

Until they saw them in the last hours of darkness,

rising from a dusky cloud of dust.

كأنّهمْ بالصُّمِّ مطرورةٌ

لمنجد الأرض على مُتهِمِ

As though they were armed with solid, sharpened spears,

for the land's uplanders against its lowlanders.

وفوقها كلُّ مَغيظِ الحَشا

مُكتَحِلِ الطَّرْف بلون الدَّمِ

And atop them, every man enraged at heart,

his eyes lined with the color of blood.

كأنّه من حَنَقٍ أجْدَلٌ

أرشده الحِرْصُ إلى مَطْعَمِ

As though, in his fury, he were a falcon

that greed had guided to a feeding-place.

فَاِستَقبلوا الطّعنَ إلى فِتْيَةٍ

خُوّاضِ بحرِ الحَذَرِ المُفْعَمِ

Then they turned their spear-thrusts upon young men,

plungers into the brimming sea of peril,

من كلّ نهّاضٍ بثِقْلِ الأذى

موكَّلِ الكاهلِ بالمُعظَمِ

each rising to shoulder the weight of suffering,

his shoulder entrusted with the gravest burdens.

ماضٍ لِما أمَّ فلو جاد في ال

هيجاءِ بالحَوْباءِ لم يندَمِ

Resolute toward his aim; if he gave, in the

battle, his life, he would not regret it.

وكالفٍ بالحربِ لو أنّه

أُطعِمَ يومَ السِّلمِ لم يطعمِ

And one enamored of war, who, if

fed on a day of peace, would not eat.

مثلَّمِ السّيفِ ومن دونِهِ

عِرْضٌ صحيحُ الحدِّ لم يُثْلَمِ

His sword chipped, yet behind it

an honor whose edge was sound, never chipped.

فلم يزالوا يُكرعون الظُّبا

بين تراقي الفارسِ المُعْلَمِ

And they never ceased making the blade-edges drink

between the collarbones of the horseman bearing battle-marks.

فمُثخَنٌ يحملُ شَهّاقةً

تَحكي لِراءٍ فُغْرَةَ الأعْلَمِ

One grievously wounded bears a gaping wound

that, to an onlooker, resembles a cleft-lipped mouth's gape.

كأنّما الوَرْسُ بها سائلٌ

أو أُنبتَتْ من قُضُبِ العَنْدَمِ

As though yellow wars-dye were flowing in it,

or it had sprouted from branches of red 'andam wood.

ومُستَزلٌّ بالقنا عن قَرا

عَبْلِ الشّوى أو عن مَطا أدْهَمِ

And another, unseated by spears from the back

of a stout-limbed mount, or from a black steed's back.

لو لم يكيدوهمْ بها كيدَةً

لاِنقَلبوا بالخِزْي والمَرْغَمِ

Had they not tricked them with that stratagem,

they would have turned back in disgrace and abasement.

فَاِقتُضِبَتْ بالبِيضِ أرْواحُهمْ

في ظلّ ذاك العارضِ الأسْحَمِ

So their souls were severed by bright swords

beneath that pitch-black storm-cloud.

مصيبةٌ سِيقتْ إلى أحمدٍ

ورَهْطِهِ في الملأ الأعظمِ

A calamity borne to Ahmad

and his kin in the highest assembly.

رُزْءٌ ولا كالرُّزْءِ من قبلِهِ

ومؤلمٌ ناهيك من مؤلِمِ

A loss unlike any loss before it,

and a torment—what a torment!

ورميةٌ أصْمتْ ولكنّها

مُصمِيةٌ من ساعدٍ أجْذَمِ

And a shot that slew outright, yet it was

a deadly shot from a maimed forearm.

قلْ لبني حربٍ ومَنْ جمّعوا

من جائرٍ عن رُشدِهِ أوْ عمِ

Tell the sons of Harb and those they gathered,

those straying from sound judgment, or blind,

وكلِّ عانٍ في إسارِ الهوى

يُحسب يَقظانَ من النُوَّمِ

and every captive in the fetters of desire,

thought awake, though one of the sleepers:

لا تحسبوها حُلْوةً إنّها

أَمَرُّ في الحلقِ من العَلْقَمِ

do not reckon it sweet; it is

more bitter in the throat than colocynth.

صرَّعَهمْ أنّهمُ أقدموا

كم فُدِيَ المُحْجِمُ بالمُقدِمِ

Their advance brought them down;

how often the hesitant was ransomed by the bold!

هَل فيكمُ إلّا أَخو سَوْءَةٍ

مُجَرَّحُ الجِلْدِ من اللُّوَّمِ

Is there among you anyone but a man of shame,

his skin lacerated by reproachers?

إنْ خاف فقراً لم يجُدْ بالنّدى

أو هاب وَشْكَ الموتِ لم يُقْدِمِ

If he fears poverty, he gives no bounty,

or, fearing death's imminence, he does not advance.

يا آلَ ياسينَ ومَنْ حُبُّهمْ

مَنْهَجُ ذاك السَّنَنِ الأقومِ

O family of Ya-Sin, love for you

is the way of that most upright path.

مهابطُ الأملاكِ أبياتُهم

ومُستَقَرُّ المُنْزَلِ المُحكَمِ

Their homes are the descent-places of angels,

and the abode of the firmly established revelation.

فأنتُمُ حُجّةُ ربّ الورى

على فصيحِ النّطقِ أو أَعجمِ

You are the proof of the Lord of all creation

against the eloquent of speech or the inarticulate.

وأين إلّا فيكُمُ قُرْبَةٌ

إلى الإلهِ الخالقِ المُنعمِ

And where, except in you, is a means of nearness

to God, the Creator, the Bestower of blessings?

واللَّه لا أخليتُ من ذكركمْ

نَظْمِي ونثري ومَرامِي فمي

By God, I shall never leave your remembrance out of

my verse, my prose, and the missiles of my mouth.

كلّا وَلا أغْبَبْتُ أعداءَكُمْ

من كَلِمي طَوْراً ومن أسهُمي

No! Nor shall I give your enemies respite

from my words at one time, and my arrows at another.

ولا رُئِي يومَ مصابٍ لكمْ

مُنكشِفاً في مشهدٍ مَبْسَمِي

Nor, on a day of calamity for you, shall there be seen

my smiling mouth uncovered in any gathering.

فإنْ أَغِبْ عن نصركمْ برهةً

بِمُرهفاتٍ لم أَغبْ بالفمِ

If, for a while, I am absent from aiding you

with sharpened blades, I am not absent with my mouth.

صلَّى عليكمْ ربُّكمْ واِرتَوَتْ

قبوركمْ من مُسبِلٍ مُثْجِمِ

May your Lord bless you, and may they drink their fill—

your graves—from a pouring, rain-laden cloud,

مُقَعْقَعٍ تُخجِلُ أَصواتُهُ

أصواتَ ليثِ الغابةِ المُرْزِمِ

thunderous, its voices putting to shame

the roars of the forest's rumbling lion.

وَكيفَ أَستَسقِي لَكمْ رحمةً

وأَنتمُ الرّحمةُ للمجرمِ

And how can I ask that mercy rain upon you,

when you are mercy itself for the sinner?