أبى طارق الطيف لا غرورا

Deny the phantom, O son of Tariq, not out of pride, lest your vision intend never to visit again.

I do not abhor the phantom in itself, but I abhor a union built upon falsehood.

To God I complain of what burns within my breast; my two flanks contain a raging inferno.

It tears a dear friend from me every single day, and leaves me grieving every evening companion.

If you two ask me, O my companions, by the straightness of the desert route, you will find me well-versed.

For every single day the traveling mounts see me leaving one encampment and pitching camp in another region.

When I depart from my companion, I say: Count years for my return, and leave the months behind.

I see myself as a youth of twenty or less, yet my poetry has traveled and covered the entire earth.

Whenever I compose a rhyme, it never ceases to cross the open plains and fold up the rugged mountains.

And if the dead could ever boast of the living, Abu Hashim would surely take pride in me.

And if I were to solicit what I truly deserve, I would not even solicit the seat of power.

And if I set out traveling, the kings of the lands would cry out in alarm before the blaring trumpets.

Yet I am content with a little, if God makes that little easy to attain.

Most people praise the character of the rainclouds, yet very rarely do those clouds pour down upon the earth.

A noble youth whose two garments are filled with loftiness, nobility, glory, excellence, and goodness.

When the cushioned seat embraces him, you find him a pouring raincloud and a radiant full moon.

And when the heat of battle brings him forth, you would take him for a sharp, severing blade and a fierce, crouching lion.

At times a benefactor, at times a destroyer, at times a protector, and at times an annihilator.

You see upon the heights of his ambition the tongue of hope stretching long, while the reach of his nights remains short.

Noble households embrace pure intellect through him, and high-bred steeds bear away heavy loads of bounty.

May you have a virgin poem that has traversed the lands of Tayy and outrun the verses of Jarir.

When I recite it, Time itself is struck dumb and solid rocks lend an ear to my words.

And if the hearts of the listeners were capable, they would heal the anguish burning in my chest.

And I seek no bridal dower for her save that you convey my affair directly to the Amir.

For you are a helping hand and a speaking tongue for him whenever time brings forth a momentous crisis.

May the two of you remain lifelong supports for glory: the one addressed as Amir, and the one addressed as Vizier.