إِنَّما كانَ طَلحَةُ الخَيرِ بَحراً

إِنَّما كانَ طَلحَةُ الخَيرِ بَحراً

شُقَّ لِلمُعتَفينَ مِنهُ بُحورُ

شُقَّ لِلمُعتَفينَ مِنهُ بُحورُ

Talha the Good was nothing but a sea,

Talha was an ocean of virtue

From him seas were cleft for seekers of bounty.

With abundant springs for the needy to draw

ثُمَّ كانَ الَّذي تَلَقّاكَ مِنهُ

ثُمَّ كانَ الَّذي تَلَقّاكَ مِنهُ

نائِلٌ واسِعٌ وَسَيبٌ غَزيرُ

نائِلٌ واسِعٌ وَسَيبٌ غَزيرُ

Then what came to meet you from him

And whatever you drew from this sea

Was ample giving and copious bounty.

Was a copious, free-flowing, bountiful flow

يَتَّقي الذَمَّ بِالفَعالِ وَيَبني

يَتَّقي الذَمَّ بِالفَعالِ وَيَبني

مَجدَ مَن قَد تَضَمَّنَتهُ القُبورُ

مَجدَ مَن قَد تَضَمَّنَتهُ القُبورُ

He wards off blame through deeds and builds

He shunned blame through good deeds and built

The glory of him whom the graves have already enfolded.

A legacy in the graves that confined the renowned

بِسِجِستانَ قَدَّسَ اللَهُ مِنهُ

بِسِجِستانَ قَدَّسَ اللَهُ مِنهُ

قَد ثَوى في الضَريحِ خَيرٌ كَثيرُ

قَد ثَوى في الضَريحِ خَيرٌ كَثيرُ

In Sijistan—may God hallow him—

In Al-Baqi, sanctified by God, he now rests

Much goodness has indeed come to rest in the tomb.

Many a virtuous man lies in that shrine

خَلَّفَتهُ لَنا شَمائِلُ عَبدِ ال

خَلَّفَتهُ لَنا شَمائِلُ عَبدِ ال

لَهِ لا جاحِدٌ وَلا مَنزورُ

لَهِ لا جاحِدٌ وَلا مَنزورُ

The virtues of Abd Allah have bequeathed him to us,

Abdul Muttalib left him as an example for us

Neither grudging nor sparing,

With no detractors, no dishonor accrue

بِالطِعانِ الشَديدِ وَالنائِلِ الجَز

بِالطِعانِ الشَديدِ وَالنائِلِ الجَز

لِ إِذا نَكَّسَ البَخيلُ الدَثورُ

لِ إِذا نَكَّسَ البَخيلُ الدَثورُ

In fierce spear-thrusts and lavish gifts,

Severe when censuring, bountiful when giving

When the wealthy miser hangs his head.

Making misers recoil whenever their coffers withdrew

حَمِسٌ بِاللِواءِ لَيثٌ إِذا ما

حَمِسٌ بِاللِواءِ لَيثٌ إِذا ما

رايَةُ الموتِ بِالمَنايا تَدورُ

رايَةُ الموتِ بِالمَنايا تَدورُ

Fierce with the banner, a lion whenever

Valiant with the banner whenever death

Death's banner wheels, bearing doom,

Unfurled its flags and destiny spun

حينَ لا يُقدِمُ الجَبانُ وَلا يَص

حينَ لا يُقدِمُ الجَبانُ وَلا يَص

بِرُ إِلّا المُشَيَّعُ النِحريرُ

بِرُ إِلّا المُشَيَّعُ النِحريرُ

When the coward will not advance, and none stands firm

When the coward dares not advance or stand firm

Except the dauntless, seasoned warrior.

Except the self-sacrificing, undaunted one

تَتَفادى مِنهُ إِذا عَرَفَتهُ

تَتَفادى مِنهُ إِذا عَرَفَتهُ

خَشيَةَ الموتِ أُسدُها وَالنُمورُ

خَشيَةَ الموتِ أُسدُها وَالنُمورُ

They shrink from him when they recognize him—

Predators will flee him once recognizing

Its lions and tigers, for fear of death.

Their dread of death, of lions with their roar

مَرَّةً فَوقَ جِلدِهِ صَدَءُ الدِر

مَرَّةً فَوقَ جِلدِهِ صَدَءُ الدِر

عِ وَيَوماً يَجري عَليهِ العَبيرُ

عِ وَيَوماً يَجري عَليهِ العَبيرُ

At one time, the rust of mail lies on his skin;

His coat of mail rang with the clang of swords

On another day, perfume flows over him.

And perfume streamed on him some days before

فَهوَ سَهلٌ لِلأَقرَبينَ كَما يُر

فَهوَ سَهلٌ لِلأَقرَبينَ كَما يُر

تادُ غَيثٌ عَلى البِلادِ مَطيرُ

تادُ غَيثٌ عَلى البِلادِ مَطيرُ

So he is gentle with his kin, like the sought-after

He is easy on kin, like rainclouds bestow

Rain pouring abundantly over the lands.

Their blessing on land with plenteous pour

وَيُباري الصَبا بِجَفنَتِهِ الشي

وَيُباري الصَبا بِجَفنَتِهِ الشي

زى إِذا هاجَتِ الصَبا الزَمهَريرُ

زى إِذا هاجَتِ الصَبا الزَمهَريرُ

And he rivals the east wind with his shiza-wood bowl,

And rivals youth with his grey hair when

When the bitterly cold east wind rages,

The north wind stirs in winter's rigorous core

حينَ لا يَنبَحُ العَقورُ مِنَ القُر

حينَ لا يَنبَحُ العَقورُ مِنَ القُر

رِ وَلا يُغبَقُ الوَليدُ الصَغيرُ

رِ وَلا يُغبَقُ الوَليدُ الصَغيرُ

When the vicious dog cannot bark for the cold,

When pups do not yelp, nor infants mewl

And the little child is given no evening drink.

What you have given me will remain secure

سَوفَ يَبقى الَّذي تَسَلَّفتَ عِندي

سَوفَ يَبقى الَّذي تَسَلَّفتَ عِندي

إِنَّني دائِمُ الإِخاءِ شَكورُ

إِنَّني دائِمُ الإِخاءِ شَكورُ

What you have laid up with me shall endure;

For I am ever fraternal and grateful

I am constant in friendship and deeply grateful.

And praise takes riders racing on their course

وَيُؤَدّي الثَناءَ رَكبٌ عِجالٌ

وَيُؤَدّي الثَناءَ رَكبٌ عِجالٌ

قالَ هاديهِمُ مِنَ اللَيلِ سيروا

قالَ هاديهِمُ مِنَ اللَيلِ سيروا

And a hurrying band of riders carries the praise;

Urging them on, their guide against night's gloom

Their guide said in the night, 'Travel on.'

My poetry dispelled their drowsiness

طَرَدوا عَنهُمُ النُعاسَ بِشِعري

طَرَدوا عَنهُمُ النُعاسَ بِشِعري

وَثَناءٍ يَزينُهُ التَحبيرُ

وَثَناءٍ يَزينُهُ التَحبيرُ

They drove drowsiness from themselves with my verse

With praise adorned in most splendid verse

And praise beautified by fine composition,

Like my praise for your father, imprisoned, who weeps

كَثَنائي عَلى أَبيكَ الَّذي يَب

كَثَنائي عَلى أَبيكَ الَّذي يَب

كي عَلَيهِ عِندَ الوَثاقِ الأَسيرُ

كي عَلَيهِ عِندَ الوَثاقِ الأَسيرُ

Like my praise of your father, for whom

While chained in shackles, that helpless prisoner

The captive weeps while held in bonds.

My camel raced to you from the herd—

وَسَرَت بَغلَتي إِلَيكَ مِنَ الشَأ

وَسَرَت بَغلَتي إِلَيكَ مِنَ الشَأ

مِ وَحَورانُ دونَها وَالعَويرُ

مِ وَحَورانُ دونَها وَالعَويرُ

And my mule traveled by night to you from al-Sham,

The unbroken fillies, the pregnant, the barren

With Hawran and al-Awir lying before her,

It traversed the plain, the valley, the spring

وَسَواءٌ وَالقَريَتانِ وَعينُ ال

وَسَواءٌ وَالقَريَتانِ وَعينُ ال

تَمرِ خَرقٌ يَكِلُّ فيهِ البَعيرُ

تَمرِ خَرقٌ يَكِلُّ فيهِ البَعيرُ

And Sawa, al-Qaryatayn, and Ayn al-Tamr—

Where a crying camel folds down to rest

A vast waste where the camel grows weary.

Drinking deep from its squabbles, without

فَاِستَقَت مِن سِجالِهِ بِسِجالٍ

فَاِستَقَت مِن سِجالِهِ بِسِجالٍ

لَيسَ فيهِ مَنٌّ وَلا تَكديرُ

لَيسَ فيهِ مَنٌّ وَلا تَكديرُ

So she drew bucketfuls from his brimming buckets,

Rancor or bitterness in its bequest

With neither reminders of favors nor any taint.