حُيِيتِ يا دارَ الهَوى مِن دارِ

حُيِيتِ يا دارَ الهَوى مِن دارِ

وَلا عَدَتكِ السُحُبُ السَواري

وَلا عَدَتكِ السُحُبُ السَواري

Hail, abode of love—what an abode!

I greeted you, O abode of love, coming from an abode,

May the night-traveling clouds never pass you by,

Your clouds have not returned following the rain,

مُثقَلَةً كَالإِبِلِ العِشارِ

مُثقَلَةً كَالإِبِلِ العِشارِ

باكِيَةً بِأَدمُعٍ غِزارِ

باكِيَةً بِأَدمُعٍ غِزارِ

Laden like she-camels ten months pregnant,

Heavily laden like returning camels,

Weeping abundant tears

Weeping with pouring tears,

عَلى ثَرى رُسومِكِ القِفارِ

عَلى ثَرى رُسومِكِ القِفارِ

فَرُبَّ لَيلاتِ هَوىً قِصارِ

فَرُبَّ لَيلاتِ هَوىً قِصارِ

Upon the earth of your deserted remains.

Over the ruins of your barren tracts,

How many short nights of love

Where I spent many a night of brief love,

تَصَرَّمَت فيكَ عَلى إيثاري

تَصَرَّمَت فيكَ عَلى إيثاري

نِلتُ بِها ما شِئتُ مِن أَوطاري

نِلتُ بِها ما شِئتُ مِن أَوطاري

Passed within you just as I wished!

I grew old in you according to my will,

In them I attained whatever desires I pleased,

And attained through this my every goal,

أَعقُرُ فيها الهَمَّ بِالعُقارِ

أَعقُرُ فيها الهَمَّ بِالعُقارِ

أَشرَبُها بِجَذوَةٍ مِن نارِ

أَشرَبُها بِجَذوَةٍ مِن نارِ

Slaughtering sorrow with wine.

I stir my grief with healing,

I drink it with a glowing ember of fire;

I quench it with a burning coal,

تَرمي مِنَ الحَبابِ بِالشَرارِ

تَرمي مِنَ الحَبابِ بِالشَرارِ

حَمراءَ أَو صَفرَاءَ كَالدينارِ

حَمراءَ أَو صَفرَاءَ كَالدينارِ

Its bubbles throw out sparks,

It casts sparks from the embers,

Red, or yellow as a dinar,

Red or yellow like a gold dinar,

كَأَنَّها ذَوبُ النُضارِ الجاري

كَأَنَّها ذَوبُ النُضارِ الجاري

رَقَّت فَما تُدرَكُ بِالأَبصارِ

رَقَّت فَما تُدرَكُ بِالأَبصارِ

Like flowing molten gold.

As if it were molten metal flowing,

So delicate it escapes the eyes,

Melted, not to be grasped by sights,

تَخالُها في كَأسِها المُدارِ

تَخالُها في كَأسِها المُدارِ

إيماضَ بَرقٍ في الظَلامِ ساري

إيماضَ بَرقٍ في الظَلامِ ساري

You would imagine it, in its circulating cup,

You’d think it wine in a rotating cup,

A lightning flash passing through darkness.

A flashing light in the darkness roams,

باتَ بِها الأَسمَرُ مِن سُمّاري

باتَ بِها الأَسمَرُ مِن سُمّاري

مُطَرَّزَ الخَدَّينِ بِالعِذارِ

مُطَرَّزَ الخَدَّينِ بِالعِذارِ

The dark one among my night companions spent the night with it,

The dark one spent the night awake in it,

His cheeks embroidered with youthful down,

His cheeks adorned with the marks of sleeplessness,

يُديرُ لَحظاً مُرهَفَ الغِرارِ

يُديرُ لَحظاً مُرهَفَ الغِرارِ

ذا كُحلٍ في الطَرفِ وَاِحمِرارِ

ذا كُحلٍ في الطَرفِ وَاِحمِرارِ

Casting a glance with finely sharpened edges,

Turning a tender, dreamy glance,

With kohl and redness in his eyes,

With kohl in his eyes and a blush,

وَهَيَفٍ في الخَضرِ وَاِختِصارِ

وَهَيَفٍ في الخَضرِ وَاِختِصارِ

وَقامَةٍ قامَت بِها أَعذاري

وَقامَةٍ قامَت بِها أَعذاري

And slenderness and trimness at the waist,

And slenderness in his greenness and charm,

And a stature that furnished my excuses.

And a figure that blamed me,

ريقَتُهُ كَالعَسَلِ المُشارِ

ريقَتُهُ كَالعَسَلِ المُشارِ

وَرِدفُهُ أَثقَلُ مِن أَوزاري

وَرِدفُهُ أَثقَلُ مِن أَوزاري

His saliva is like freshly gathered honey,

His saliva is sweet as filtered honey,

And his buttocks are heavier than my sins;

His buttocks heavier than my burdens,

يَقِلُّ مِن حِمالِهِ اِصطِباري

يَقِلُّ مِن حِمالِهِ اِصطِباري

وَدُميَةٍ قَصيرَةِ الزُنّارِ

وَدُميَةٍ قَصيرَةِ الزُنّارِ

My patience dwindles from bearing him.

My patience falls short of carrying it,

And a doll-like beauty with a short girdle,

And a short-belted doll,

مُشبَعَةِ الخَلخالِ وَالسِوارِ

مُشبَعَةِ الخَلخالِ وَالسِوارِ

كَأَنَّها بَدرُ السَماءِ الساري

كَأَنَّها بَدرُ السَماءِ الساري

Filling out her anklet and bracelet,

Replete with anklets and bracelets,

Like the full moon traveling through heaven,

As if it were the rising full moon,

جَلَّت عَنِ المُحاقِ وَالسِرارِ

جَلَّت عَنِ المُحاقِ وَالسِرارِ

تُشرَقُ مِن مَطالِعِ الأَزرارِ

تُشرَقُ مِن مَطالِعِ الأَزرارِ

Above waning and moonless concealment,

It uncovered from concealment and mystery,

Shining from the openings of her buttons.

It rises from the horizon of buds,

عَلِقتُها في حانَةِ الخَمّارِ

عَلِقتُها في حانَةِ الخَمّارِ

خَلَعتُ في الحُبِّ بِها عِذاري

خَلَعتُ في الحُبِّ بِها عِذاري

I fell in love with her in the wine-seller's tavern;

I suspended it in the tavern of the wine-seller,

For love of her I threw off my bridle.

I took off my chastity for it,

ما لِأَخي الصَبوَةِ وَالوَقارِ

ما لِأَخي الصَبوَةِ وَالوَقارِ

وَلَم أَزَل مُنهَتِكَ الأَستارِ

وَلَم أَزَل مُنهَتِكَ الأَستارِ

What has a devotee of passion to do with dignity?

What’s wrong with my brother of dignity and composure,

And my veils have always been torn away.

And I never ceased to rend veils,

أَقولُ بِاللِثامِ وَالخِمارِ

أَقولُ بِاللِثامِ وَالخِمارِ

وَالشُربِ في الحاناتِ وَالقِمارِ

وَالشُربِ في الحاناتِ وَالقِمارِ

I espouse the face-veil and the head-veil,

I speak of wraps and wine,

And drinking in taverns, and gambling,

And drinking in taverns and gambling,

وَأَعشَقُ الغِلمانَ وَالجَواري

وَأَعشَقُ الغِلمانَ وَالجَواري

أَعيشُ في الدُنيا عَلى اِختِياري

أَعيشُ في الدُنيا عَلى اِختِياري

And I love youths and slave-girls.

And I love boys and maids,

I live in this world as I choose,

I live my life according to my choice,

مِن قَبلِ أَن يُرتَجَعَ العَواري

مِن قَبلِ أَن يُرتَجَعَ العَواري

وَقَلَّما فَكَّرتُ في الإِعسارِ

وَقَلَّما فَكَّرتُ في الإِعسارِ

Before the things on loan are reclaimed.

Before regrets are taken back,

Rarely have I thought about poverty,

And I rarely thought about poverty,

أَو خِفتُ مِن غَوائِلِ الخُمارِ

أَو خِفتُ مِن غَوائِلِ الخُمارِ

أَجودُ في عُسرِ وَفي يَسارِ

أَجودُ في عُسرِ وَفي يَسارِ

Or feared the perils of a hangover.

Or feared the calamities of old age,

I give generously in hardship and prosperity;

I spend in hardship and in ease,

وَكانَ عَينُ الرِبحِ في الخَسارِ

وَكانَ عَينُ الرِبحِ في الخَسارِ

وَرَوضَةٍ مُؤنَقَةَ الأَزهارِ

وَرَوضَةٍ مُؤنَقَةَ الأَزهارِ

The very profit lay in loss.

And the eye of profit was in loss,

And a garden of delightful flowers,

And a garden with aromatic flowers,

مِسكِيَّةٍ أَنفاسُها مِعطارِ

مِسكِيَّةٍ أَنفاسُها مِعطارِ

وَريقَةِ الأَغصانِ وَالأَشجارِ

وَريقَةِ الأَغصانِ وَالأَشجارِ

Musky, its breaths richly fragrant,

Whose breaths are fragrant,

Leafy in its branches and trees,

And the saliva of branches and trees,

مِنَ الرِياضِ الأُنُفِ الأَبكارِ

مِنَ الرِياضِ الأُنُفِ الأَبكارِ

تُثني عَلى صَوبِ الحَيا المِدرارِ

تُثني عَلى صَوبِ الحَيا المِدرارِ

Among gardens untouched and virgin,

From the chaste, pure meadows,

Praising the downpour of abundant rain

They lean to the side of the flowing stream,

بِأَلسُنِ الحَوذانِ وَالعَرارِ

بِأَلسُنِ الحَوذانِ وَالعَرارِ

نَضحَكُ عَن مَباسِمِ النَوّارِ

نَضحَكُ عَن مَباسِمِ النَوّارِ

With the tongues of buttercups and arar flowers.

With the tongues of partridges and hares,

We smile at the blossoms' smiling mouths,

We laugh with the smiles of narcissi and tulips,

مِن نِرجِسٍ غَضٍّ وَجُلِّنارِ

مِن نِرجِسٍ غَضٍّ وَجُلِّنارِ

باتَ بِها جَودٌ مِنَ الأَمطارِ

باتَ بِها جَودٌ مِنَ الأَمطارِ

Of fresh narcissus and pomegranate blossom.

Where generosity of rain spent the night,

A generous downpour spent the night there,

So it adorned itself in the morning with seeds,

فَأَصبَحَت مَوشيَّةَ الأَقطارِ

فَأَصبَحَت مَوشيَّةَ الأَقطارِ

في حُلَلِ الشَقيقِ وَالبَهارِ

في حُلَلِ الشَقيقِ وَالبَهارِ

And morning found its expanses embroidered

As if it were the medicinal powder of the perfumer,

In robes of anemones and yellow daisies.

It breathes from a scarf and a cave,

كَأَنَّها لَطيمَةُ العَطّارِ

كَأَنَّها لَطيمَةُ العَطّارِ

تَنَفَّسَت مِن مَندَلٍ وَغارِ

تَنَفَّسَت مِن مَندَلٍ وَغارِ

Like a perfumer's load of fragrances,

Preceded by a running brook,

It breathed sandalwood and laurel.

Sweet and recently filled from springs,

يَسبُقُها جَدوَلُ ماءٍ جارِ

يَسبُقُها جَدوَلُ ماءٍ جارِ

عَذبٌ قَريبُ العَهدِ بِالقُطارِ

عَذبٌ قَريبُ العَهدِ بِالقُطارِ

A running brook flowed before it,

Pure from foam and turbidity,

Sweet, still fresh from the rain,

Finer than my tears and poetry,

صافٍ مِنَ الأَقذاءِ وَالأَكدارِ

صافٍ مِنَ الأَقذاءِ وَالأَكدارِ

أَرَقُّ مِن دَمعي وَمِن أَشعارِ

أَرَقُّ مِن دَمعي وَمِن أَشعارِ

Clear of debris and murk,

Confiding its secrets to the visitor,

Finer than my tears and than poetry.

Until he sees what lay hidden in the burrows,

يَبوحُ لِلوارِدِ بِالأَسرارِ

يَبوحُ لِلوارِدِ بِالأَسرارِ

حَتّى يَرى ما ساخَ في القَرارِ

حَتّى يَرى ما ساخَ في القَرارِ

It reveals its secrets to the arriving drinker,

I took it at dawn and with innovation,

Until he sees what has sunk to the bottom.

And night had turned its back and fled,

باكَرتُها وَلِلعُلى اِبتِكاري

باكَرتُها وَلِلعُلى اِبتِكاري

وَلَّيلُ قَد وَلّى عَلى الأَدبار

وَلَّيلُ قَد وَلّى عَلى الأَدبار

I came to it early; for high deeds I rise early,

Its army prepared to desert,

While night had turned its back,

So we were deluded by the shining planet,

وَجَيشُهُ قَد هَمَّ بِالفِرارِ

وَجَيشُهُ قَد هَمَّ بِالفِرارِ

فَغَرَّنا بِالكَوكَبِ الغَرّارِ

فَغَرَّنا بِالكَوكَبِ الغَرّارِ

And its army was preparing to flee,

And the birds did not appear from their nests,

Beguiling us with the beguiling star.

And dawn had announced mobilization,

وَالطَيرُ ما بانَت عَنِ الأَوكارِ

وَالطَيرُ ما بانَت عَنِ الأَوكارِ

وَالصُبحُ قَد آذَنَ بِالإِنفارِ

وَالصُبحُ قَد آذَنَ بِالإِنفارِ

The birds had not yet left their nests,

With young braves of valiant deeds,

And dawn had announced the stirring to flight.

Glorious, generous and noble men,

بِفِتيَةٍ غُرٍّ ذَوي أَخطارِ

بِفِتيَةٍ غُرٍّ ذَوي أَخطارِ

أَماجِدٍ أَكارِمٍ أَحرارِ

أَماجِدٍ أَكارِمٍ أَحرارِ

With bright young men of high standing,

Known for their truthfulness in speech,

Noble, generous, freeborn,

And every daring hero attacks,

قَد عُرِفوا بِالصِدقِ في الأَخبارِ

قَد عُرِفوا بِالصِدقِ في الأَخبارِ

وَكُلِّ رامٍ بَطَلٍ كَرّارِ

وَكُلِّ رامٍ بَطَلٍ كَرّارِ

Known for truthfulness in their reports,

Vanquishing fate through boldness,

And every archer, a hero charging again and again,

As if he is a fierce lion in its lair,

أَغلَبَ مَشّاءٍ عَلى الأَخطارِ

أَغلَبَ مَشّاءٍ عَلى الأَخطارِ

كَأَنَّهُ لَيثُ عَرينٍ ضارٍ

كَأَنَّهُ لَيثُ عَرينٍ ضارٍ

A mighty man striding into dangers,

Most awe-inspiring, fearing no disgrace,

Like a fierce lion of the lair,

Of lush branches and pure carving,

أَروَعَ لا يَرهَبُ غَيرَ العارِ

أَروَعَ لا يَرهَبُ غَيرَ العارِ

زاكي الفُروعِ طاهِرَ النُجارِ

زاكي الفُروعِ طاهِرَ النُجارِ

Gallant, fearing nothing but disgrace,

Refined of every defect and blemish,

Of pure branches and unsullied stock,

Until the light of day cast its robe,

مُهَذَّبٍ مِن كُلِّ عارٍ عارِ

مُهَذَّبٍ مِن كُلِّ عارٍ عارِ

حَتّى وَرى زَندُ النَهارِ الواري

حَتّى وَرى زَندُ النَهارِ الواري

Refined, bare of every shame.

And spread the horizons with its lights,

Until daylight's kindling fire-stick sparked,

And flocks of birds approached,

فَجَلَّلَ الأَفاقَ بِالأَنوارِ

فَجَلَّلَ الأَفاقَ بِالأَنوارِ

وَأَقبَلَت عَصائِبُ الأَطيارِ

وَأَقبَلَت عَصائِبُ الأَطيارِ

Clothing the horizons in light,

In a great army with endless numbers,

And flocks of birds approached

Of diverse forms and feathers,

في جَحفَلٍ مِن جَيشِها جَرّارِ

في جَحفَلٍ مِن جَيشِها جَرّارِ

مُختَلِفاتِ السَمتِ وَالمَطارِ

مُختَلِفاتِ السَمتِ وَالمَطارِ

In a vast host from their marching army,

Of varied dresses and costumes,

Differing in direction and flight,

Some white like cotton wool,

مُلَوَّناتِ القُمصِ وَالأَطمارِ

مُلَوَّناتِ القُمصِ وَالأَطمارِ

مِن أَبيَضٍ كَرِزَمِ القَصّارِ

مِن أَبيَضٍ كَرِزَمِ القَصّارِ

With many-colored shirts and ragged garments.

Others famous like the generous knight,

Some white, like the fuller's bundles,

You’d think it was the light of day,

مُشتَهِرٍ كَالفارِسِ المِغوارِ

مُشتَهِرٍ كَالفارِسِ المِغوارِ

تِخالُهُ مِن وَضَحَ النَهارِ

تِخالُهُ مِن وَضَحَ النَهارِ

Conspicuous as a daring horseman,

Composed of frost and fire,

You would think one part of daylight's brightness,

And the hoopoe cloaked in its wrap,

مِنِ اِبيَضاضٍ مِنهُ وَاِحمِرارِ

مِنِ اِبيَضاضٍ مِنهُ وَاِحمِرارِ

مُؤَلَّفاً مِن بَرَدٍ وَنارِ

مُؤَلَّفاً مِن بَرَدٍ وَنارِ

From its whiteness and redness,

Its red skirt like blossoming pomegranate,

Compounded of hail and fire.

In a worn out garment with loose buttons,

وَأَبلَقٍ مُشَمَّرِ الإِزارِ

وَأَبلَقٍ مُشَمَّرِ الإِزارِ

مِزَرُّهُ الأَحمَرُ كَالعُقارِ

مِزَرُّهُ الأَحمَرُ كَالعُقارِ

And a piebald one, its waist-wrap tucked up,

Made from night and from day,

Its red waist-wrap like wine,

Successful away from home,

في يَلمَقٍ مُحَلَّلِ الأَزرارِ

في يَلمَقٍ مُحَلَّلِ الأَزرارِ

أُلِفَ مِن لَيلٍ وَمِن نَهارِ

أُلِفَ مِن لَيلٍ وَمِن نَهارِ

In a coat with unfastened buttons,

Its yellow forehead like a gold dinar,

Fashioned from night and day.

As if it were a non-Muslim in hiding,

وَناجِحِ الأَهلِ بَعيدِ الدارِ

وَناجِحِ الأَهلِ بَعيدِ الدارِ

جَبهَتُهُ صَفراءُ كَالدينارِ

جَبهَتُهُ صَفراءُ كَالدينارِ

And one of thriving kin, far from home,

Prayer mark on its forehead, blackish,

Its forehead yellow as a dinar,

As if its beak was made of tar,

كَأَنَّهُ الذِمِّيُّ في الغِيارِ

كَأَنَّهُ الذِمِّيُّ في الغِيارِ

صَلتِ الجَبينِ أَسوَدِ العِذارِ

صَلتِ الجَبينِ أَسوَدِ العِذارِ

Like a dhimmi in distinguishing dress,

So fate led it to the hunting ground,

Smooth of forehead, black of cheek-down,

And it went out to pasture at dawn,

كَأَنَّهُ شِفارُهُ مِن قارِ

كَأَنَّهُ شِفارُهُ مِن قارِ

فَساقَهُ الحَينُ إِلى المِقدارِ

فَساقَهُ الحَينُ إِلى المِقدارِ

As though its eyelid-rims were pitch.

Certain that lives are short,

Doom drove it toward its destined fate.

On the edge of crumbling cliffs,

فَخَرَجَت لِلرَعيِ وَالإِصحارِ

فَخَرَجَت لِلرَعيِ وَالإِصحارِ

موقِنَةً بِقِصَرِ الأَعمارِ

موقِنَةً بِقِصَرِ الأَعمارِ

So they came out to forage in the open,

And we were seized with yearning for the wilderness,

Certain that their lives were short,

And weary for clouds the color of tar,

عَلى شَفا مِن جُرُفٍ مُنهارِ

عَلى شَفا مِن جُرُفٍ مُنهارِ

وَهاجَنا شَوقٌ إِلى البِدارِ

وَهاجَنا شَوقٌ إِلى البِدارِ

Upon the edge of a crumbling bank.

Which appeared with golden dawn,

A longing to hasten stirred us;

Its necklaces and chains removed,

مِلنا إِلى سُحمٍ كَلَونِ القارِ

مِلنا إِلى سُحمٍ كَلَونِ القارِ

قَد ظَهَرَت بِالذَهَبِ النُضارِ

قَد ظَهَرَت بِالذَهَبِ النُضارِ

We turned to dark bows, pitch in color,

Freed from the shackles of captivity,

Already gleaming with pure gold.

As if they were ferocious lions,

تُحَلُّ عَنها عُقُدُ الأَستارِ

تُحَلُّ عَنها عُقُدُ الأَستارِ

يُطلِقُها مِن رِبقَةِ الإِسارِ

يُطلِقُها مِن رِبقَةِ الإِسارِ

The knots of their coverings are loosened;

Descended from the dangerous breed,

He releases them from captivity's tether,

They charge into fire and flames,

كَأَنَّها الأَساوِدُ الضَواري

كَأَنَّها الأَساوِدُ الضَواري

مَنسوبَةً إِلى القَنا الخَطّارِ

مَنسوبَةً إِلى القَنا الخَطّارِ

Like ravening black snakes,

With no peer in skill,

Ascribed to swaying reeds,

Their whiteness in the darkness of night,

تُغزى إِلى نارٍ وَأَيِّ نارِ

تُغزى إِلى نارٍ وَأَيِّ نارِ

لَيسَ لَهُ في الحِذقِ مِن مُبارِ

لَيسَ لَهُ في الحِذقِ مِن مُبارِ

Sent toward fire—and what a fire!

Is sweeter to me than melodies of strings,

He has no rival in skill.

Excellent is the choosing of the expert selector,

نَبيضُها في ظُلَمِ الأَسحارِ

نَبيضُها في ظُلَمِ الأَسحارِ

أَلَذُّ لي مِن نَغَمِ الأَوتارِ

أَلَذُّ لي مِن نَغَمِ الأَوتارِ

Their twang in the darkness before dawn

Pleasing to the eyes of onlookers,

Is sweeter to me than the tones of strings.

But hideous in its vestiges,

نِعمَ اِختِيارُ الحاذِقِ المُختارِ

نِعمَ اِختِيارُ الحاذِقِ المُختارِ

يَروقُ حُسناً أَعيُنَ النُظّارِ

يَروقُ حُسناً أَعيُنَ النُظّارِ

Excellent is the choice of the chosen master:

Beware of its arrows, beware,

Its beauty delights the eyes of onlookers,

For they are more potent than swords,

لَكِنَّها قَبيحَةُ الآثارِ

لَكِنَّها قَبيحَةُ الآثارِ

حَذارِ مِن أَسهُمِها حَذارِ

حَذارِ مِن أَسهُمِها حَذارِ

But their effects are ugly.

And the chests of fiery horses,

Beware their arrows—beware!

Similar in size and measure,

فَإِنَّها أَمضى مِنَ الشِفارِ

فَإِنَّها أَمضى مِنَ الشِفارِ

وَمِن صُدورِ الأَسَلِ الحِرارِ

وَمِن صُدورِ الأَسَلِ الحِرارِ

For they are sharper than blades

As if a hail of stones,

And than the points of keen spears.

The small more deadly than the large,

مُشتَبِهاتِ القَدِّ وَالمِقدارِ

مُشتَبِهاتِ القَدِّ وَالمِقدارِ

كَأَنَّها قُذفٌ مِنَ الأَحجارِ

كَأَنَّها قُذفٌ مِنَ الأَحجارِ

Alike in length and size,

Rising in swirling dust,

They seem like stone projectiles;

Swifter than the descent of fates,

صِغارُها أَدهى مِنَ الكِبارِ

صِغارُها أَدهى مِنَ الكِبارِ

صاعِدَةً في الرَهَجِ المُثارِ

صاعِدَةً في الرَهَجِ المُثارِ

Their small ones are deadlier than their large.

With the like of unleashed arrows,

Rising through the stirred-up dust,

The wing of the watching bird fell,

أَسرَعُ مِن نَوازِلِ الأَقدارِ

أَسرَعُ مِن نَوازِلِ الأَقدارِ

بِمِثلِها مِن أَسهُمٍ عَواري

بِمِثلِها مِن أَسهُمٍ عَواري

Faster than the calamities of fate,

It silences him before flapping and soaring,

With such unfeathered arrows

It penetrates his belly into a den,

هيضَ جَناحُ الناظِرِ الطَيّارِ

هيضَ جَناحُ الناظِرِ الطَيّارِ

تُصميهِ قَبلَ النَزعِ وَالأَبدارِ

تُصميهِ قَبلَ النَزعِ وَالأَبدارِ

The watchful flier's wing was broken.

The writhing of the fox in bushes,

They kill it outright before the draw and the rush,

A respite for every severed life,

تَغورُ مِن جُؤجوئِهِ في غارِ

تَغورُ مِن جُؤجوئِهِ في غارِ

تَوَلُّجَ الثَعلَبِ في الوِجارِ

تَوَلُّجَ الثَعلَبِ في الوِجارِ

Burrowing through its breast into a cavity,

Perfected with harvesting and passing,

As a fox enters its den.

Yellowed with no yellowing fault,

بَرحاً لِكُلِّ مُحصَدٍ مُغارِ

بَرحاً لِكُلِّ مُحصَدٍ مُغارِ

أُحكِمَ بِالإِحصافِ وَالإِمرارِ

أُحكِمَ بِالإِحصافِ وَالإِمرارِ

Woe to every tightly twisted, firmly plied cord,

In the grip of a harmful archer,

Made firm by close twisting and plying,

His right supported by the left,

أَصفَرَ لا يُعابُ بِاِصفِرارِ

أَصفَرَ لا يُعابُ بِاِصفِرارِ

في كَفِّ نَفّاعٍ بِهِ ضَرّارِ

في كَفِّ نَفّاعٍ بِهِ ضَرّارِ

Yellow, yet not faulted for yellowness,

So he remained in the depths of the dust cloud,

In the hand of one who benefits, yet harms with it!

Hastening them, unleashing without haste,

قَد عُضِدَت يُمناهُ بِاليَسارِ

قَد عُضِدَت يُمناهُ بِاليَسارِ

فَلَم يَزَل في لُجَجِ الغَمارِ

فَلَم يَزَل في لُجَجِ الغَمارِ

His right hand was supported by his left;

A hidden shooting like the flame of fire,

He continued amid the depths of the fray,

More secret than a wink or gesture,

يُعجِلُها رَمياً عَنِ الغِرارِ

يُعجِلُها رَمياً عَنِ الغِرارِ

رَمياً دِراكاً كَلَهيبِ النارِ

رَمياً دِراكاً كَلَهيبِ النارِ

Hurrying his shots at them without a pause,

So they dispersed by the power of the Almighty,

Shot upon shot, like flames of fire,

Around the archers, however dispersed,

أَخفى مِنَ الإيماءِ بِالأَسرارِ

أَخفى مِنَ الإيماءِ بِالأَسرارِ

فَاِنتَشَرَت بِقُدرَةِ الجَبّارِ

فَاِنتَشَرَت بِقُدرَةِ الجَبّارِ

Subtler than signaling secrets.

Like the skirmish of dogs or war,

Then, by the Almighty's power, they scattered

If only you could see them in the swirling blood,

حَولَ الرِماةِ أَيَّما اِنتِشارِ

حَولَ الرِماةِ أَيَّما اِنتِشارِ

كَوَقعَةِ الكِلابِ أَو ذي قارِ

كَوَقعَةِ الكِلابِ أَو ذي قارِ

Around the archers—what a scattering!

With necks and sights humbled,

Like the battle of al-Kilab or Dhi Qar.

Searching in the mire and dirt,

فَلَو تَراها في الدَمِ المُماري

فَلَو تَراها في الدَمِ المُماري

خَواضِعَ الأَعناقِ وَالأَبصارِ

خَواضِعَ الأَعناقِ وَالأَبصارِ

Had you seen them in the streaming blood,

Severed limbs and bodies,

Their necks and eyes bowed,

Struck with humiliation and disgrace,

تَفحَصُ في الوَعثِ وَفي الخَبارِ

تَفحَصُ في الوَعثِ وَفي الخَبارِ

دَوامِيَ الأَطرافِ وَالأَعشارِ

دَوامِيَ الأَطرافِ وَالأَعشارِ

Scratching in soft sand and loose soil,

Few in support and aid,

Their limbs and parts bleeding,

You'd think them the slaughtered sheep of the butcher,

قَد رُمِيَت بِالذُلِّ وَالصَغارِ

قَد رُمِيَت بِالذُلِّ وَالصَغارِ

قَليلَةَ الأَعوانِ وَالأَنصارِ

قَليلَةَ الأَعوانِ وَالأَنصارِ

Struck with humiliation and abasement,

So how much noble blood we spilled,

With few helpers or supporters,

With none to seek vengeance,

حَسِبتَها نَحائِرَ الجَزارِ

حَسِبتَها نَحائِرَ الجَزارِ

فَكَم أَرَقنا مِن دَمٍ جُبارِ

فَكَم أَرَقنا مِن دَمٍ جُبارِ

You would have thought them the butcher's slaughtered beasts.

O trip that arrived from travels,

How much unavenged blood we spilled,

And shooting match that fulfilled my pride,

لَيسَ لَهُ مِن طالِبٍ بِثارِ

لَيسَ لَهُ مِن طالِبٍ بِثارِ

يا سَفرَةً وافَت عَنِ الأَسفارِ

يا سَفرَةً وافَت عَنِ الأَسفارِ

With none to seek revenge for it!

Blessed arriving and leaving,

O journey that stood in for all journeys,

I spent my time at it shooting,

وَبَرزَةً تَمَّ بِها فِخاري

وَبَرزَةً تَمَّ بِها فِخاري

مُبارَكَ الإيرادِ وَالإِصدارِ

مُبارَكَ الإيرادِ وَالإِصدارِ

And excursion through which my glory was fulfilled,

And succeeded in skill over my peers,

Blessed in arrival and departure!

I preserved my repute in hunting birds,

قَضَيتُ في الرَمي بِها أَوطاري

قَضَيتُ في الرَمي بِها أَوطاري

وَفُقتُ بِالحِذقِ عَلى النُظّارِ

وَفُقتُ بِالحِذقِ عَلى النُظّارِ

On it I fulfilled my desires in shooting,

And its home near my home,

And surpassed the onlookers through skill.

And I would not neglect the right of a neighbor,

خَفَرتُ في الطَيرِ بِها ذِماري

خَفَرتُ في الطَيرِ بِها ذِماري

وَدارُها قَريبَةٌ مِن داري

وَدارُها قَريبَةٌ مِن داري

On it I broke my pledge of protection to the birds,

I established it with ruin and victory,

Though their home is near my home,

Unlike the custom of visitors,

وَكُنتُ لا أُخفِرُ حَقَّ الجارِ

وَكُنتُ لا أُخفِرُ حَقَّ الجارِ

قَرَّرتِها بِالحَتفِ وَالبَوارِ

قَرَّرتِها بِالحَتفِ وَالبَوارِ

And I used not to violate a neighbor's right.

So my bowstrings did not weep for it,

You lodged them in death and ruin,

Nor did the sanctity of a neighbor forbid me,

عَلى خِلافِ عادَةِ الزُوّارِ

عَلى خِلافِ عادَةِ الزُوّارِ

فَما بَكَتها أَعيُنُ الأَوتارِ

فَما بَكَتها أَعيُنُ الأَوتارِ

Contrary to the custom of visitors.

And I returned high in resolve and glory,

No eyes of bowstrings wept for them,

With the support of success and aid.

وَلا رَعَتها حُرمَةُ الجَوارِ

وَلا رَعَتها حُرمَةُ الجَوارِ

وَعُدتُ عالي الجَدِّ وَالمَنارِ

وَعُدتُ عالي الجَدِّ وَالمَنارِ

Nor did the sanctity of neighborliness protect them.

And I returned, my fortune high, my beacon raised,

بِزَندِ إِقبالِ وَسَعدٍ واري

بِزَندِ إِقبالِ وَسَعدٍ واري

With prosperity's and good fortune's fire-stick kindled.