1. وَغَيْثٍ تَبَطَّنْتُ قُرْيَانَهُ

    إِذَا رَفَّهَ الوَبْلُ عَنْهُ دُجِنْ

    And a rain-fed pasture whose watercourses I traversed,

    clouded over when the downpour eased away from it.

  2. وُقُوفٌ بِهِ تَحْتَ أَظْلاَلِهِ

    كُهُولُ الخُزَامَى وُقُوفَ الظّعُنْ

    Standing there beneath its shadows

    were mature lavender plants, like halted camel-litters.

  3. كَأَنَّ صَوَاهِلَ ذِبَّانِهِ

    قُبَيْلَ الصَّبَاحِ صَهِيلُ الحُصُنْ

    As though the whinnying of its flies

    just before dawn were the neighing of stallions.

  4. بِنَهْدِ المَرِاكِلِ ذِي مَيْعَةٍ

    أَزَلِّ العِثَارِ مِعَنٍّ مِفَنْ

    On a stout-flanked horse, full of vigor,

    sure-footed, swiftly darting, varied in its paces,

  5. هَرِيتٍ قَصِير عِذَارِ اللجَامِ

    أسِيلٍ طَوِيلِ عِذَارِ الرَّسَنْ

    wide-mouthed, with a short bridle cheek-strap,

    smooth-cheeked, with a long halter cheek-strap.

  6. ذَعَرْتُ بِهِ العَيْرَ مُسْتَوْزِياً

    شَكِيرُ جَحَافِلِهِ قَدْ كَتِنْ

    With it I startled a wild ass, poised to spring,

    the fine hairs of its lips already caked with grass-sap.

  7. عَدَا هَرِجاً غَيْرَ مُسْتَيْقِنٍ

    بِوَقْعِ اللِّقَاءِ ولاَ مُطْمَئِنْ

    It ran bewildered, uncertain

    of the coming clash, and without composure,

  8. يَمُجُّ بَرَاعِيمَ مِنْ عَضْرَسٍ

    تَرَاوَحَهُ القَطْرُ حَتَّى مَعِنْ

    spitting out buds of ʿaḍras herbage

    that rain had repeatedly visited until it grew lush.

  9. كَأَنَّ نُقَاعَاتِ خَطْيِمَّةٍ

    عَلَى حَدِّ مَرْسِنِهِ لَوْ رُسِنْ

    As though marsh-mallow infusions

    lay along its muzzle’s ridge, had it been haltered.

  10. غَدَا يَنْفُضُ الطَلَّ عَنْ مَتْنِهِ

    تَسيلُ شَرَاسِيفُهُ كالقُطُنْ

    At dawn it shook the dew from its back,

    the flesh along its ribs rippling like cotton.

  11. وصَاحِبِ صِدْقٍ تَنَاسَيْتُهُ

    كَرَاهُ ولهَّيْتُ حَتَّى أَذِنْ

    And a loyal companion—I chose to overlook

    his drowsiness, and kept him amused until he listened.

  12. يَذُودُ العَصَافِيرَ عَنْ دَاثِرٍ

    دَفِينِ الإِزَاءِ خَلاَءٍ أَجِنْ

    He drove sparrows away from a ruined pool,

    its inlet buried, deserted, its water stagnant.

  13. وخَشْخَشْتُ بِالعَنْسِ في قَفْرَةٍ

    مَقِيلَ ظِبَاءِ الصَّريمِ الحُزُنْ

    And I made the sturdy she-camel rustle through a waste,

    a noon-resting place for the sandbank’s hill-dwelling gazelles,

  14. وهُنَّ جُنُوحٌ لدَى حَاذَةٍ

    ضَوارِبَ غِزْلاَنُهَا بِالجُرُنْ

    as they leaned beside a ḥādh shrub,

    their fawns laying their necks on the ground.

  15. بِعَنْسَيْنِ تَصْرِفُ أَلْحِيهِمَا

    بِمُسَتْنقِعٍ كَصُبَابِ اللَّجِنْ

    On two sturdy she-camels, their jaws grinding,

    at a pool like the dregs of slimy washwater.

  16. ظَلَلْنَا مُظِلَّيْ زِمَامَيْهِمَا

    يُرَاوَحُ زَوْرَاهُمَا بِالثَّفِنْ

    We spent the day bent over their two reins,

    their chests resting by turns on their calloused pads.

  17. فَرُحْنَا تُرَاكِلُ أَيْدِيهمَا

    سَرِيحاً تَخَرَّقَ بَعْدَ المُرُنْ

    So we set off at evening, their forelegs kicking

    at a leather hoof-binding, torn after long wear.

  18. وأَصْيَدَ صَادَيْتُ عَنْ دَائِهِ

    ونَارٍ بِبِطْنَتِهِ إِذْ بَطِنْ

    And a stiff-necked man I coaxed away from his malady

    and a fire in his full belly, when he grew bloated.

  19. جَمَحْتُ بِهِ ثُمَّ نَحَّيْتُهُ

    بِبَيْنِ القَرِينَيْنِ حَتَّى قُرِنْ

    I drove him headlong, then turned him aside,

    by parting the two companions, until he was bound.

  20. فَدَاجِ أَخَاكَ إِلَى يَوْمِهِ

    فَإِنْ عَزَّ غَيْرَ مُسيءٍ فَهُنْ

    So humor your brother until his day comes;

    for if he is unyielding without wrongdoing, be mild.

  21. سَيُشْوِي الفَتَى بَعْضُ أَوْجَالِهِ

    ويَفْجَعُهُ بَعْضُ مَا قَدْ أَمِنْ

    Some of a young man’s fears will merely graze him,

    and some things he felt safe from will strike him grievously,

  22. بِمُخْتَلَسٍ مِنْ نَوَاحِي الحُتُو

    فِ تُرْمَى الرِّجَالُ بِهِ عَنْ شَزَنْ

    with a sudden stroke from the quarters of death,

    with which men are struck from afar.

  23. فَإِمَّا هَلَكْتُ فَلاَ تَجْزَعِي

    ونَامِي عَلَى دَائِكِ المُسْتَكِنْ

    So if I perish, do not grieve,

    and sleep upon the pain concealed within you.

  24. لَعَمْرُ أَبِيكِ لَقَدْ شَاقَنِي

    مَكَانٌ حَزِنْتُ لَهُ أَوْ حَزِنْ

    By your father’s life, I have been stirred to longing

    by a place I mourned for—or that mourned:

  25. مَنَازِلُ لَيْلَى وأَتْرَابِهَا

    خَلاَ عَهْدُهَا بَيْنَ قَوٍّ َفقُنْ

    the dwellings of Laylā and her age-mates.

    Their former life has passed, between Qaww and Qun.

  26. خَلاَ عَهْدُهَا بَعْدَ سُكَّانِها

    لِمَا نَالَهَا مِنْ خَبَالٍ وجِنْ

    Their former life has passed since their dwellers left,

    from the ruin and jinn that befell them.

  27. لَيَالِيَ لَيْلَى عَلَى غَانِظٍ

    ولَيْلَى هَوَى النَّفْسِ مَا لَمْ تَبِنْ

    In the nights when Laylā was at Ghāniẓ,

    and Laylā was my soul’s desire while she had not departed,

  28. سَقَتْني بِصَهْبَاءَ دِرْيَاقَةٍ

    مَتَى مَا تُلَيِّنْ عِظَامِي تَلِنْ

    she gave me reddish wine, an antidote;

    whenever it softens my bones, they grow supple.

  29. صُهَابِيَّةٍ مُتْرَعٍ دَنُّهَا

    تُرَجَّعُ مِنْ عُوِد وَعْسٍ مُرِنْ

    Ṣuhābī wine, its jar filled to the brim,

    echoing in refrains from a supple, resonant lute.

  30. وشَقَّتْ لِيَ اللَّيْلَ عَنْ جَيْبِهِ

    بِلَذَّتِهَا وضَجِيعِي وَسِنْ

    And she split open the night’s bosom for me

    with her delight, while my bedfellow was drowsy.

  31. ولَوْ بَذَلَتْ حُسْنَ مَا عِنْدَهَا

    لِبَارِحِ أَرْوَى نَوَارٍ مُسِنْ

    And if she offered the beauty of what she possessed

    to an old, shy ibex passing from right to left,

  32. قَرُوعِ الظِّرَبِ بِأَظْلاَفِهِ

    رَشُوفِ الفَرَاشِ بِسَامٍ رَكُنْ

    pounding rocky knolls with its cloven hooves,

    sipping shallow water on a firm crag,

  33. شَبُوبٍ كَأَنَّ قَرَا ظهْرِهِ

    مِنَ الزَّيْتِ بَعْدَ دِهَانٍ دُهِنْ

    vigorous, as though the ridge of its back

    had been anointed with oil after an earlier coating,

  34. مَرَابِعُهُ الخُمْرُ مِنْ صَاحَةٍ

    ومُصْطَافُهُ في الوُعُولِ الحُزُنْ

    its spring haunts the thickets of Ṣāḥah,

    and its summer haunt among hill-dwelling ibex,

  35. لَظَلَّ يُنَازِعُهَا لُبَّهُ

    نِزَاعَ القَرِينِ حِبَالَ الرُّهُنْ

    its heart would keep straining toward her,

    like a bound captive tugging at the ropes of hostages.

  36. سَأَتْرُكُ لِلظَّنِّ مَا بَعْدَهُ

    ومَنْ يَكُ ذَا أُرْبَةٍ يَسْتَبِنْ

    I shall leave what follows to conjecture;

    whoever has understanding will discern.

  37. فَلاَ تَتْبَعِ الظَّنَّ إِنَّ الظُّنُونَ

    تُرِيكَ مِنَ الأَمْرِ مَا لَمْ يَكُنْ

    So do not follow conjecture: conjectures

    show you, in a matter, what never existed.

  38. وأَرْعَى الأَمَانَةَ فِيمَنْ رَعَى

    ومَنْ لاَ َتِجدْهُ أَمِيناً يَخُنْ

    And I keep faith with whoever keeps it;

    whoever you do not find trustworthy will betray.

  39. تَرَكْتُ الخَنَا لَسْتُ مِنْ أَهْلِهِ

    وسَمَّنْتُ في الحَمْدِ حَتَّى سَمِنْ

    I forsook foul speech; I am not of its people,

    and I fattened praise until it grew fat,

  40. بِوَفْرِي العَشِيرَةَ أَعْرَاضَهَا

    وخَلْعِي عِذَارَ الخَطِيبِ اللَّسِنْ

    by safeguarding the tribe’s honor

    and stripping the bridle from the eloquent orator.

  41. وجَوْفَاءَ يَجْنَحُ فِيهَا الضَّرِيكُ

    لِحِينِ الشِّتَاءِ جُنُوحَ العَرِنْ

    And a deep bowl into which the destitute bends

    in wintertime, like a beast bowed by sores,

  42. مَلأْتُ فَأَتْرَعْتُهَا تَابِلي

    عَلَى عَادَةٍ مِنْ كَريمٍ فَطِنْ

    I had my cook fill it, fill it to the brim,

    in the manner of a generous, discerning man,

  43. إِذَا سَدَّ بِالْمَحلِ آفَاقَهَا

    جَهَامٌ يَؤُجُّ أَجِيجَ الظُّعُنْ

    when its horizons are blocked with drought

    by a rainless cloud, roaring like departing caravans.

  44. وصَالِحَةِ العَهْدِ زَجَّيْتُهَا

    لِوَاعِي الفُؤَادِ حَفِيظ الأُذُنْ

    And a poem faithful to its pledge I sent forth

    to one with a mindful heart and a retentive ear,

  45. بِبَابِ المَقَاوِلِ مِنْ حِمْيَرٍ

    تُشَدَّدُ أَعْضَادُهُ بِاللَّبِنْ

    at the gate of the rulers of Ḥimyar,

    its jambs reinforced with mud-bricks.

  46. فَمَا أُخْفِ يَخْفَ عَلَى عِفَّةٍ

    ومَا أُبْدِ يَعْلُن إِذَا مَا عَلَنْ

    So what I conceal stays concealed with modesty,

    and what I reveal stands clear when made public.