1. Alas! If only the gentle breezes
Would give life to the smiling meadows,

2. And cast their glances over the hills of 'Aqiq,
Glances that wander over those grasslands and landmarks.

3. And they would kiss the ground between Al-Kathib and Al-Himaa,
Where the trotting camel left its delicate prints.

4. How could I forget - I never forget - that day at Dhi Naqaa
When we tarried there till passion's fire inflamed us.

5. There we stood complaining while the spices of Nuwaa
Entwined our mantles round the delicate branches.

6. Who will tell the youths that I
Have checked my steed from acts of recklessness?

7. I have closed my eyes to a maiden and to wine,
And shut my ears to the blame of detractors.

8. Heedless I was until I noticed a flash of grey
Blazing from a piece of the dark night.

9. And startled only by a hint of departure,
I swept my hand across the eyes of a slumberer.

10. The zephyr is gone, leaving only the echo
Of pacts that prick the soul and pierce the vitals.

11. I let his yearning echo prolong, and mayhap
I wept for a time now past, never to return.

12. If the days have diluted the wine of my youth,
And bent a branch of my supple form,

13. Yet ready for the fight is the long lance hand,
That shakes the stately bastions with a forceful blow.

14. Nights when my sword brings victory ever closer;
For the tribe's youth are relentlessly advancing.

15. As night's darkness envelops me, valour stirs
That makes me plunge into the thick of ventures.

16. Many a blind night have I startled the steeds
With a loud cry, driving them with a whip.

17. Nor could I tell a ewe from a daughter of 'A'uj,
Or a ugly doe from the mother of Salim.

18. If over passion I've lost all self-control,
Against foes my nature is unforgiving.

19. Strange indeed that I give the doe my bridle,
And from her throat ward off all threats,

20. Having mounted her in the dark of night,
Entrusting mysteries of night to a slumberer.

21. While adversity has lowered its mantle
Over every towering crag and looming peril,

22. And the gleam of swords has emerged,
As the vanguards of the slim horses converge.

23. I challenged the radiant stars across the night
With a free-ranging spirit above the sublime.

24. When troubles crowd in, their leader bears
The heaviest responsibility at critical moments.

25. And turns to fight as swords deal fatal blows
And cleave through skulls in a blood-soaked delirium.

26. Who will tell the fair one I have shed
The raiment of swords like a questing pilgrim?

27. In times of stress I would seek refuge
In a strong sword, deflecting threats.

28. Now neither right nor left stirs by my side,
Nor any ally clings close for protection.

29. Lodged I am in glory's abode, in the shade
Of something far nobler, while hostile abodes crumble.

30. None deserves the heights save those who strive
And grasp at fortunes, ceasing to hesitate.

31. The winds of generosity shake out gold
That dims the glitter of mere coins.

32. As if I had stretched over its withers
A glittering coat of finest link.

33. So rider who spurs the steed down the valley,
And fans to life the sleeping winds,

34. Seeking out a smile in that shining face
To scatter the gloom upon that sullen visage,

35. Forbear, you have reached the end
Of those far journeys and distant lightning.

36. And if someday the Fates should fling you down
Into the arms of the gentle zephyrs,

37. Then climb the peak of the noble souls
That rubs shoulders with the highest stars.

38. A people eminent since early days,
Noble while still infants in mighty cradles,

39. Who stood up to the envoys of ill-tidings
And coaxed the smiles of tyrannous kings.

40. When the crises shook their spears in the arena,
Be firm in your view, be an adamant smasher.

41. And if the days eroded the pillars of a kingdom,
Be firm in your writings, be its strongest pillars.

42. In them you see a dashing nonchalance
When meeting the glittering edge of swords.

43. Take what thought you wish of glorious success,
Arrows directed unerringly from a quiver's mouth,

44. Now clipping the claws of disasters,
Then gently wiping the face of all that's noble.

45. Father of Al-Hasan! What gratitude is owed
For your precious, freely-flowing bounty!

46. How often you swung your staff for it
And mayhap sighed, as doves sigh, to the ache of longing.

47. No flowering meadow upon a hilltop sings
With a sweeter tune to the gaze or the bard

48. Than the sight or the strains of your inspiration.