ألم تسأل الربع الجديد التكلما

Did you not ask the new campsite to speak, at the torrent-bed of Ashdakh, then the stony tract of Azlama?

The trace of the camp's dwelling refused to speak; and can one who is mute utter a familiar greeting?

Amidst the hollows of Naqi' al-Jiz' from the heart of Yalban, its people loaded their baggage and headed toward Najd.

Dwellings belonging to Sha'tha of the radiant heart and her peer, during the nights she occupied Al-Marad and grew restless.

And when she was dark-eyed with tearful lashes, grazing among the arranged arak trees at the valley's outflow.

She stayed there through the summer until there appeared to her a heavy rain-cloud that rumbled when the wind stirred it.

Then when its flanks drew near and its midsection approached close to the earth, it rumbled with a deep bellow.

Maternal camels with their young moan beneath it when lightning streaks across its edges and pours heavily.

And its steady downpour near the corners of the Aqiq almost struck down a solid, rounded peak from Al-Jamma'.

Then when it rose over Turban and its rain poured forth, it surged, dropped its burden, and thundered aloud.

And every rushing torrent-bed from it arose, its flood sweeping away the thorn-trees without cease.

They called out in the night so their baggage-camels stood ready, towering above the patterned Iraqi carpets.

They strode with the necks of gazelles, and the hems of their Yemeni striped garments revealed exquisite patterns.

How then can you meet her when her people have settled in a southern valley of Ghifar and Aslam?

A distant meeting and a divergence of paths, until your encounter with her coincides with a pilgrimage season.

I shall dedicate to her every year a qasidah, while I sit secure and honored in Yathrib.

Am I not the finest neighbor who brings harmony to his home, like the generous and wealthy, and even the destitute?

And a sincere drinking companion whose palm rains down goodness when he departs as an overflowing, deep-sea patron of the evenings?

I anchored my foundation through him and he matched my disposition, nor was I a worthless burden among boon companions to be blamed.

The passage of wars and their disasters left behind for us swords, coats of mail, and a massive host.

When the zenith of the sky grows dusty and barren, as if draped in a patterned striped garment.

You would think the cooking pots of Al-Sadiq around our homes were black camel herds resting in the settlement.

Night-visitors linger by them as if they are approaching an overflowing sea of generosity belonging to Sumayhah.

We have present townsmen and desert nomads who stand as proud and noble as the peaks of Radwa.

Whenever any band from Ma'add and Ghassan measures themselves against us, we defend our watering basin from being shattered.

With every youth whose finger-joints are bare, worn thin by clashing with warriors, sweating musk and blood.

When the sun is behind us, our backs pour sweat as if the veins of our chests were oozing red dye.

We gave birth to the sons of Al-Anqa and the two sons of Muharriq; how noble we are as maternal uncles, and how noble he is as a son!

We grant lordship to the man of little wealth when his chivalry shines among us, even if he is destitute.

And truly we feast the guest if he comes by night, offering the finest portions of wholesome, intact meat.

Are we not those who turn back the champion from his desired path, and snap the intertwined spears into pieces?

And how many an awe-inspiring master do you see whose father is our father, linked by sister's son and sacred ties?

Ours are the gleaming white bowls shining in the morning, and our swords drip with the blood of valor.

Our habitual virtue forbids us to utter foul speech, and our speaker speaks only of righteousness.

Our high standing before kings, our repelling of foes, and our filling of wooden platters until they crack.

Every tribe of Ma'add we have repaid according to their deeds; so woe to them for their evil, and blessed be they for their goodness!