1. يَا حُرَّ أَمْسَيْتُ شَيْخاً قَدْ وَهَى بَصَرِي

    وَالْتَاثَ مَا دُونَ يَوْمِ الوَعْدِ مِنْ عُمُرِي

    O Hurr, I have grown old, and my sight has weakened.

    What remains of my life before the promised day has grown troubled.

  2. يَا حُرَّ مَنْ يَعْتَذِرْ مِنْ أَنْ يُلِمَّ بِهِ

    رَيْبُ الزَّمَانِ فَإِني غَيْرُ مُعْتَذِرِ

    O Hurr, whoever seeks exemption from being visited

    By time's reversals—I seek no exemption.

  3. يَا حُرَّ أَمْسى سَوادُ الرَّأْسِ خَالَطَهُ

    شَيْبُ القَذالِ اخْتِلاَطَ الصَفْوِ بِالْكَدَرِ

    O Hurr, the blackness of my head is now mingled

    With gray at the nape, as clear water mingles with turbid.

  4. يَا حُرَّ أَمْسَتْ تَلِيَّاتُ الصِّبَا ذَهَبَتْ

    فَلْسْتُ مِنْهَا عَلَى عَيْنٍ ولاَ أَثَرِ

    O Hurr, the last remnants of youth have gone;

    I have neither their substance nor their trace.

  5. قَدْ كُنْتُ أَهْدِي ولا أُهْدَى فَعَلَّمَنِي

    حُسْنَ المَقَادَةِ أَنِّي فَاتَنِي بَصَرِي

    I once guided others and was not guided; what taught me

    To follow well was the loss of my sight.

  6. كَانَ الشَّبَابُ لِحَاجَاتٍ وكُنَّ لَهُ

    فَقَدْ فَرَغْتُ إلَى حَاجَاتِي الأُخَرِ

    Youth served certain desires, and those desires served it;

    Now I have turned to my other concerns.

  7. رَامَيْتُ شَيْبِي كِلاَنَا قَائِمٌ حِجَجاً

    سِتِّينَ ثُمَّ ارْتَمَيْنَا أَقْرَبَ الفُقَرِ

    I traded arrows with my gray hair, both of us standing, for years—

    Sixty—then we shot at the nearest vertebrae.

  8. رَامَيْتُهُ مُنْذُ رَاعَ الشَّيْبُ فَالِيَتِي

    ومِثْلُهُ قَبْلُه في سَالِفِ العُمُرِ

    I fought it since gray hair startled my louse-picker,

    And as many years before that in my earlier life.

  9. أرْمِي النُّحُورَ فَأُشْوِيها وتَثْلِمُنِي

    ثَلْمَ الإِنَاءِ فَأَغْدُو غَيْرَ مُنْتَصِرِ

    I shoot at throats, striking no vital spot, while it chips me

    As a vessel is chipped, and I go forth unavenged,

  10. في الظَّهْرِ والرَّأْسِ حَتَّى يَسْتَمِرَّ بِهِ

    قَصْرُ الهِجَارِ وفي السَّاقَيْنِ كَالفَتَرِ

    In back and head, until the body is held fast

    By a shortened hobble, with a finger-span between the legs.

  11. قَالَتْ سُلَيْمَى بِبَطْنِ القَاعِ مِنْ سُرُحٍ

    لاَ خَيْرَ في العَيْشِ بَعْدَ الشَّيْبِ والكِبَرِ

    Sulayma said in the hollow plain of Suruh:

    'There is no good in living after gray hair and old age.'

  12. واسْتَهْزَأَتْ تِرْبُهَا مِنِّي فَقُلْتُ لَهَا

    مَاذَا تَعِيبَانِ مِنِّي يَا بْنَتَيْ عَصَرِ

    Her companion mocked me, and I said to her:

    'What do you two fault in me, daughters of ‘Asr?

  13. لَوْلاَ الحَيَاءُ ولَوْلاَ الدِّينُ عِبْتُكُمَا

    بِبَعْضِ مَا فِيكُمَا إِذْ عِبْتُما عَوَرِي

    Were it not for modesty, and were it not for religion, I would fault you both

    For some of what is in you, since you faulted my defective sight.

  14. قَدْ قُلْتُمَا لِيَ قَوْلاً لاَ أَبَا لَكُمَا

    فِيهِ حَدِيثٌ عَلَى مَا كَانَ مِنْ قِصَرِ

    You have said something to me—may you have no father!—

    That gives much to discuss, short though it was.

  15. مَا أَنْتُمَا والَّذِي خَالَتْ حُلُومُكُمَا

    إِلاَّ كَحَيْرَانَ إذْ يَسْري بِلاَ قَمَرِ

    You two, with what your minds have imagined,

    Are only like someone bewildered, traveling by night without a moon.

  16. إنْ يَنْقُضِ الدَّهْرُ مِنِّي مِرَّةٍ لِبِلىً

    فَالدَّهْرُ أَرْوَد بِالأَقْوَامِ ذُوِ غَيرِ

    If time unravels my strength into decay,

    Time moves slowly upon peoples, bringing changes.

  17. لَقَدْ قَضَيْتُ فَلاَ تَسْتَهْزِئَا سَفَهاً

    مِمَّا تَقَمَّأْتُهُ مِنْ لَذَّةٍ وَطَرِي

    I have satisfied—so do not foolishly mock—

    My desire with the pleasures I gathered.

  18. يَا جَارَتَيَّ عَلَى ثَاجٍ طَرِيقُكُمَا

    سَيْراً حَثِيثاً أَلَّما تَعْلَمَا خَبَرِي

    O my two neighbors, your road lies toward Thaj:

    Travel swiftly—have you not yet learned my story?

  19. أَنِّي أُقَيِّدُ بِالْمَأْثُورِ رَاحِلَتِي

    ولاَ أُبَالِي ولَوْ كُنَّا عَلَى سَفَرِ

    That I tether my riding camel with a patterned sword,

    And do not care, even when we are traveling.

  20. لاَ تَأْمَنُ السَّيْفَ إذْ رَوَّحْتُهَا إِبِلي

    حَتَّى تَرَى نِيبَهَا يَضْمِزْنَ بِالْجِرَرِ

    My camels do not feel safe from the sword when I bring them home at evening,

    Until you see the aged she-camels chewing their cud with closed jaws.

  21. مَا يُصِبِ السَّيْفُ سَاقَهُ فَحُقَّ لَهُ

    ومَا تَدَعُ ضَرْبَتِي لاَ يُنْجِهِ حَذَرِي

    Whichever camel's shank the sword strikes deserves its fate;

    What my blow leaves, my caution will not save.

  22. ولاَ أَقُومُ عَلَى حَوْضي فَأَمْنَعُهُ

    بَذْلَ اليَمِين بِسَوْطِي بَادِياً حُتُرِي

    Nor do I stand over my watering-trough to keep others from it,

    Stretching out my right hand with my whip, my stinginess showing.

  23. ولاَ تَهَيَّبُني المَومَاةُ أَرْكَبُهَا

    إِذَا تَجَاوَبَتِ الأَصْداءُ بِالسَّحَرِ

    Nor does the wilderness frighten me; I cross it

    When owls answer one another before dawn.

  24. ولاَ أَقُومُ إِلَى الْمَوْلَى فَأَشْتُمُهُ

    ولاَ يُخْدِّشُهُ نَابِي ولاَ ظُفَرِي

    Nor do I rise against my ally and revile him,

    Nor does my fang scratch him, nor my claw.

  25. أَبْقَى خُطُوبٌ وحَاجاتٌ تُضَيِّفُني

    ومَا جَنَى الدَّهْرُ مِنْ صَفْوٍ ومِنْ كَدَرِ

    Hardships and needs that beset me have left me,

    And what time has yielded of clear fortune and turbid,

  26. مِثْلَ الحُسَامِ كَرِيماً عِنْدَ خِلَّتِهِ

    لِكُلِّ إِزْرَةِ هذا الدَّهْرِ ذَا إِزَرِ

    Like a keen sword, generous in poverty,

    Strong against every turn of this age.

  27. يَا لَيْتَ لي سَلْوَةً يُشْفَى الفؤَادُ بِهَا

    مِنْ بَعْضِ مَا يَعْتَرِي قَلْبِي مِنْ الذِّكَرِ

    Would that I had a solace by which my heart could be healed

    Of some of the memories that assail it.

  28. أَوِلَيْتَ أَنَّ النَّوَى قَبْلَ البِلى جَمَعَتْ

    شَعْبَيْ نَوَى مُصْعِدٍ مِنَّا ومُنْحَدِرِ

    Or would that separation, before decay, had brought together

    Our two parted bands, one traveling uphill, the other down.

  29. عَاد الأَذِلَّةُ في دَارٍ وكانَ بهَا

    هُرْتُ الشَّقَاشِقِ ظَلاَّمُونَ لِلْجُزُرِ

    Lowly men have returned to a dwelling where once there were

    Men with broad, swelling throats, ruthless to slaughter-camels.

  30. يَا عيْنِ بَكِّي حُنَيْفاً رَأْسَ حَيِّهِمُ

    الكَاسِرِينَ القَنَا في عَوْرَةِ الدُّبُرِ

    O eye, weep for Hunayf, chief of their clan,

    Those who break spears into the exposed rear,

  31. والحَامِلِينَ إِذَا مَا جَرَّ جَارِمُهُمْ

    بِحَامِلٍ غَيْر خَوَّارٍ ولاَ ضَجِرِ

    And shoulder the burden when their offender brings guilt,

    With a bearer neither weak nor impatient,

  32. والضَّارِبِينَ بِأَيْدِيهِمْ إذَا نَهَدَتْ

    مَثنَى القِدَاحِ وحُبَّتْ فَوْزَةُ الخَطَرِ

    And cast with their own hands when there rise

    The paired gaming arrows and the winning stake is awarded.

  33. أَعْدَاءُ كُوِم الذُّرَى تَرْغُو أجِنَّتُها

    عِنْدَ المَجَازِرِ بَيْنَ الحَيِّ والحُجَرِ

    Foes of lofty-humped camels, whose unborn calves cry out

    At the slaughtering places between the encampment and the enclosures.

  34. يَمْشي إلَيْهَا بَنُو هَيْجَا وإِخْوَتُهَا

    شُمّاً مَخَامِيصَ لاَ يَعْكُونَ بِالأُزُرِ

    The sons of battle and its brethren walk toward them,

    Proud and lean of belly, without cinching their waistcloths.

  35. فِتيَانُ صِدْقٍ وأَيْسِارٌ إِذَا افْتَرَشُوا

    أقْدَامَهمْ بَيْنَ مَلْحُوفٍ ومُنْعَفِرِ

    True young men and gamblers, when they lay flat

    Their feet between one wrapped in clothes and another dust-stained.

  36. شُمُّ العَرَانِين يُنْسيهم مَعَاطِفَهُمْ

    ضَرْبُ القِدَاحِ وتَأْرِيبٌ عَلَى العَسِرِ

    High-nosed men whose cloaks are forgotten amid

    The casting of arrows and the coaxing of the reluctant gambler.

  37. لاَ يَفْرَحُونَ إِذَا مَا فَازَ فَائِزُهُمْ

    ولاَ تُرَدُّ عَلَيْهِمُ أُرْبَةُ اليَسَرِ

    They do not rejoice when their winner wins,

    Nor is a gambler's request refused by them.

  38. هُمُ الخَضَارِمُ والأَيْسَارُ إِنْ نُدِبُوا

    فَلاَ تُجِيلُ قِدَاحاً رَاحَتا بَشرِ

    They are the munificent ones, the gamblers, when summoned;

    Then no mortal's two palms can cast the arrows.

  39. قَوْمِي بَنُو عَامِرٍ فَاخْطِرْ بِمِثْلِهِمُ

    عِنْدَ الشَّقَاشِقِ ذَاتِ الجَوْرِ وافْتَخِرِ

    My people are the sons of ‘Amir: parade men like them,

    When throat-sacs swell with unjust boasts, and take pride.

  40. فِيهِمْ تَجَاوَبُ أَفْلاَءُ الْوَجِيهِ إِذَا

    صَامَ الضحَى تَقْدَعُ الذِّبَّانَ بِالنخَرِ

    Among them the foals of al-Wajih answer one another when

    The morning stills, repelling flies with snorts.

  41. تَعْتَادُهَا قُرَّحٌ مَلْبُونَةٌ خُنُفٌ

    يَنْفُخْنَ في بُرْعُمِ الْحَوْذَانِ والخَضِرِ

    Milk-fed, full-grown horses with swaying gaits visit them,

    Blowing into the buds of buttercups and green plants.

  42. جُرْدٌ تُبَارِي الشبَا أُرْقٌ مَرَاكِلُهَا

    مِثلُ السَّرَاحِينِ مِنْ أُنْثَى ومِنْ ذَكَرِ

    Sleek-coated, matching spearpoints, slender in their flanks,

    Like wolves, both female and male,

  43. مِنْ كُّلِّ أَهْوَجَ سِرْدَاحٍ ومُقْرَبَةٍ

    تُقَاتُ يَوْمَ لِكَاكِ الوِرْدِ بِالْغُمَرِ

    Of every headlong, towering stallion and pampered mare,

    Fed from small cups when crowds throng the watering-place.

  44. نَحْنُ الْمُقِيمُونَ لَمْ تَبْرَحْ ظَعَائِنُنَا

    لا نَسْتَجِيرُ ومَنْ يَحْلُلْ بِنَا يُجَرِ

    We are those who remain; our women have not departed.

    We seek no protection, and whoever settles among us is protected.

  45. مِنَّا بِبَادِيَةِ الأَعْرَابِ كِرْكِرْةٌ

    إِلَى كَرَاكِرَ بِالأَمْصَارِ والْحَضَرِ

    A great host of ours lives in the Bedouin wilderness,

    Joined to hosts in the towns and settled places.

  46. فِينَا كَرِاكِرُ أَجْوَازٌ مُضَبَّرَةٌ

    فِيها دُروءٌ إِذَا خِفْنَا مِنَ الزَّوَرِ

    Among us are great hosts, massive bodies packed together,

    With defenses whenever we fear crooked aggression.

  47. فِينَا خَنَاذِيذُ فُرْسَانٍ وأَلْوِيَةٌ

    كُلُّ سَائِمَةٍ مِنْ سَارِحٍ عَكَرٍ

    Among us are peerless horsemen and standards,

    And every grazing beast of great roaming droves.

  48. وثَرْوَةٌ مِنْ رِجَالٍ لوْ رَأَيْتَهُمُ

    لقُلْتَ إِحْدَى حِرَاجِ الجَرِّ مِنْ أَقُرِ

    And a multitude of men whom, if you saw them,

    You would call a thicket of al-Jarr in Aqur.

  49. يَسْقِي الكُمَاةَ سِجَالَ الْمَوْتِ بَدْأَتُنَا

    وعِنْدَ كَرَّتِنَا المُرَّى مِنَ الصَّبِرِ

    Our first attack makes armored warriors drink bucketfuls of death;

    At our returning charge is bitterness beyond aloes.

  50. ونُطْعِمُ الضَّيْفَ مَعْبُوَط السَّنَامِ إِذَا

    أَلْوَتْ رِيَاحُ الشِّتَاءِ الهُوْجُ بالحُظُرِ

    We feed the guest a freshly slaughtered, full-humped camel when

    Wild winter winds sweep away the enclosures.

  51. ونُلْحِفُ النَّارَ جَزْلاً وَهْيَ بَارِزَةٌ

    ولاَ نَلُطُّ وَرَاءَ النّارِ بِالسُّتَرِ

    We heap thick wood upon the fire, openly displayed,

    And do not conceal ourselves behind the fire with screens.

  52. يَا هَلْ تَرَى ظُعُناً تُحْدَى مُقَفِّيَةً

    تغْشَى مَخَارِمَ بَيْنَ الخَبْتِ والْخَمَرِ

    Ah, do you see women in howdahs, driven away,

    Entering passes between al-Khabt and al-Khamar?

  53. أَوْقَدْنَ نَاراً بِإِثْبِيتَ التي رُفِعَتْ

    مِنْ جَانِبِ القُفِّ ذَاتِ الضَّالِ والهُبُرِ

    They kindled a fire at Ithbit, which rises

    From the side of al-Quff, with its lote-trees and hollows.

  54. بَاتَتْ حَوَاطِبُ لَيْلَى يَلْتَمِسْنَ لَهَا

    جَزْلَ الْجِذَا غَيْرَ خَوَّارٍ ولاَ دَعِرِ

    Layla's wood-gatherers spent the night seeking for her

    Thick logs, neither soft nor rotten.

  55. ثمَّ ارْتَحَلْنَ نَيّاً بَعْد تَضْحِيَةٍ

    مِثْلَ الْمَخَارِيفِ مِنْ جَيْلانَ أَوْ هَجَرِ

    Then they departed for Nayy after a forenoon halt,

    Like fruiting palms of Jilan or Hajar.

  56. طَافَتْ بِهَا الفُرْسُ حَتَّى بَذَّ نَاهِضَهَا

    عُمٌّ لَقِحْنَ لِقَاحاً غَيْرَ مُبْتَسَرِ

    Persians tended them until their growing shoots were surpassed

    By tall palms fertilized in season, not prematurely.

  57. وهَيْكلٍ سَابِحٍ في خَلْقِهِ طَنَبٌ

    حَابِي الشَّراسِيفِ يُرْدِي مَارِدَ الحُمُرِ

    And many a great-framed horse, swimming in his stride, long of build,

    With projecting rib-tips, runs down fierce wild asses,

  58. ضَخْمِ الكَرَادِيسِ لَمْ تُغْمَزْ أَبَاجِلُهُ

    مهرت الشدق سامي الهم والنظر

    Massive-jointed, with unblemished leg-veins,

    Wide of mouth, lofty in spirit and gaze,

  59. قد قدت للوحش أبقي بعض غرتها

    حَتَّى نُبِذْتُ بِعَيْر العَانَةِ النَّعِرِ

    I have led against wild beasts, preserving some of their unawareness,

    Until I came upon the herd's braying ass.

  60. والعَيْرُ يَنْفَحُ في المَكْنَانِ قَدْ كَتِنَتْ

    مِنْهُ جَحَافِلُهُ والعَضْرَسِ الثُّجَرِ

    The ass snorts among the maknan-herb; his lips have grown stained

    By it and by the thick-growing ‘adras-herb,

  61. بِعَازِبِ النَّبْتِ يَرْتَاعُ الفُؤَادُ لَهُ

    رَأْدُ النَّهارِ لأَصْوَاتٍ مِنَ النُّعَرِ

    In secluded pasture, where the heart takes fright

    At day's first light from the buzzing of gadflies.

  62. فِيهِ مِنَ الأَخْرَجِ المُرْتَاعِ قَرْقَرَةٌ

    هَدْرَ الدِّيَافِيِّ وَسْطَ الهَجْمَةِ البُحُرِ

    There the startled, mottled one makes a rumbling call,

    Like a Diyafi camel roaring amid a vast herd.

  63. والأَزْرَقُ الأَصْفَرُ السِّرْبَالِ مُنْتَصِبٌ

    قِيدَ العَصَا فَوْقَ ذَيَّالٍ مِنَ الزَّهَرِ

    And the blue one, yellow-cloaked, stands upright

    A staff's length above a trailing growth of flowers.

  64. وغَارَةً كقَطَا القُرْيَانِ مُشْعَلَةٍ

    قَدَعْتُهَا بِسَرْندىً شَاخِصِ البَصَرِ

    And a raid, scattering like sandgrouse of the watercourses,

    I have repelled on a powerful steed, keen-eyed.

  65. وصَاحِبِي وَهْوَهٌ مُسْتَوْهِلٌ زَعِلٌ

    يَحُولُ بَيْنَ حِمَارِ الوَحْشِ والعَصَرِ

    My companion pants, startled and full of ardor;

    He cuts the wild ass off from refuge.

  66. فَقُمْتُ أَلْجُمُهُ وقَامَ مُشْتَرِفاً

    عَلَى سَنَابِكِهِ في شَائِلٍ يَسَرِ

    I rose to bridle him, and he rose, lifting himself

    Upon his hooves, lightly raising his tail.

  67. أُرْخِي العِذَارَ وإِنْ طَالَتْ قَبَائِلُهُ

    عَنْ حَشْرَةٍ مِثْلِ سِنْفِ المَرْخَةِ الصَّفِرِ

    I loosen the cheek-strap, though his skull-plates are long,

    Away from a slender ear like a yellow markh-pod,

  68. في حَاجِبٍ خَاشِعٍ ومَاضِغٍ لَهِزٍ

    والعَيْنُ تَكْشِفُ عَنْهَا ضَافِيَ الشَّعَرِ

    With a lowered brow and a lean chewing muscle.

    His eye pushes aside the abundant hair covering it.

  69. يُفَرْفِرُ الفَأْسَ بِالنَّابَيْنِ يَخْلَعُهُ

    في أَفْكَلٍ مِنْ شهُودِ الجِنِّ مُحْتَضِرِ

    He shakes the axe-shaped bit between his canines, wrenching it loose,

    In a shudder, haunted by the presence of jinn.

  70. أَقُولُ والحَبْلُ مَشْدُودٌ بِمِسْحَلِهِ

    مُرْخىً لَهُ إِنْ يَفُتْنَا مَسْحُهُ يَطِرِ

    I say, while the rope is fastened to his bit,

    Slackened for him: 'If his running escapes us, he will fly.'

  71. ولِلْفُؤَادِ وجِيبٌ تَحْتَ أَبْهَرِهِ

    لدْمَ الوَلِيدِ وَرَاء الغَيْبِ بِالحَجَرِ

    His heart throbs beneath his great artery,

    Like a child's pounding with a stone, out of sight.

  72. كَأَنَّ دُبَّاءَةً شُدَّ الحِزَامُ بِهَا

    في جَوْفِ أَهْوَجَ بِالتَّقْرِيبِ والحَضَرِ

    As though a gourd had the girth tightened around it

    Inside a headlong runner at canter and gallop.

  73. غَوْجُ اللَّبَانِ ولَمْ تُعْقَدْ تَمَائِمُهُ

    مُعْرَى القِلاَدَةِ مِنْ رَبْوٍ ولاَ بُهُرِ

    Supple in the breast, with no amulets tied on him,

    Bare of a charm-collar against wheezing or breathlessness.

  74. يُرْدِي الحِمَارَ لِزَاماً وهْوَ مُبْتَرِكٌ

    كَالأَشْعَبِ الخَاضِعِ النَّاجِي مِنَ المَطَرِ

    He runs the ass down relentlessly, charging hard,

    Like a split-horned buck, head lowered, escaping the rain,

  75. المُسْتَضَافِ وَلمّا تَفْنَ شِرَّتُهُ

    مِنَ الكِلاَبِ وضيفِ الهَضْبَةِ الضِّرَرِ

    Driven toward shelter, though his fierce vigor is not yet spent

    By the dogs and the rugged flank of the hill.

  76. كَأَنَّهُ مَتْنُ مِرِّيخٍ أَمَرَّ بِهِ

    زَيْغُ الشِّمَالِ وحَفْزُ القَوْسِ بالوَتَرِ

    As though he were a featherless arrow's shaft, propelled by

    The left hand's swerve and the bow's thrust through its string.

  77. يَكَادُ يَنْشَقُّ عَنْهُ سِلْخُ كَاهِلِهِ

    زَلُّ الْعِثَارِ وَثَبْتُ الْوَعْثِ وَالغَدَرِ

    The skin of his withers almost splits away from him;

    He never stumbles, sure-footed on soft sand and stony ground,

  78. هَرْجَ الوَلِيدِ بِخَيْطٍ مُبْرَمٍ خَلَقٍ

    بَيْنَ الرَّوَاجِبِ في عُودٍ مِنَ العُشَرِ

    Like a child's playing with an old, twisted thread

    Between the finger-joints, around a stick of ‘ushar.