محل على القاطول أخلق داثره

An abandoned campsite upon the Qatul whose traces have faded, and the vicissitudes of time have returned as a raiding army.

As though the east wind were fulfilling vows whenever it rises, visiting the ruins with its skirts day and night.

And how many a gentle time was its covenant there, its edges delicate and its youth in full bloom.

The beauty of al-Ja'fari has changed, and its cheer, and both its distant quarters and present dwellings have been dismantled.

Its inhabitants loaded up and departed suddenly, until its courtyards and its graves became all the same.

Whenever we visit it, it renews our grief, though before today its visitor would rejoice.

And I have not forgotten the desolation of the palace when its flock was startled, and its young fawns and deer were terrified.

And when the call to depart was shouted within it, so its curtains and screens were torn down in haste.

And its utter emptiness, as though no companion ever stayed in it, and its views were never pleasing to an eye.

As though the caliphate had not spent the night there cheerfully, with the kingdom shining and radiant.

And as though the world had not gathered its splendor and beauty to it, while life's rivers flowed abundantly.

So where is the formidable chamberlain, where its doors and private apartments stood defended by awe?

And where is the people's refuge in every crisis that befalls, and the forbidder of time and its strong arm among them?

His assassin crept up on him unawares—better by far for the one who killed him had he faced him openly.

Neither his armies fought to save him from death, nor did his treasures and sovereign powers defend him.

And al-Mu'tazz was not helped by the one hoped for, and the mighty among a people is he whose helper is mighty.

The blows of fate intervened before his victory could unfold, and his loyal Tahir was kept far away in Khurasan.

Had a dead man lived or a distant one drawn near, the circles of misfortune would have turned upon them there.

And had Ubayd Allah been there to aid them against those men, the exits would have grown narrow for the seekers of that affair.

Delusions misled their minds, a term that had reached its end, and a doom whose decrees had drawn close.

An usurper bent on murder whose kinsmen were not feared, and whose lineage and family ties commanded no respect.

A prostrate form whose dying breaths were demanded by swords, yielding them up while death's claws rained down heavily.

I defended him with both hands, yet a bare-headed night-watcher with no armor could not turn back the enemies.

Had my sword been in my hand at the hour of the murder, the hasty killer would have known how I assault him.

Forbidden to me is wine after you, until I see blood flowing upon the earth, measure for measure.

And can I hope that a vengeful kinsman will demand the blood, when the hand of time and the victim's avenger are one and the same?

Could the crown prince have harbored treachery? What a wonder that a traitor was invested with the succession!

May neither the survivor inherit the legacy of the one who passed, nor may the pulpits ever bear such a prayer!

May the one of doubtful loyalty find no refuge, nor the drawer of the sword in treachery and its brandisher escape the blade!

How excellent is the blood spilled on the night of Ja'far, which you poured out while the curtains of night were jet black.

As if you did not know who his true master was, nor the avenger who mourns him beneath the flashing blades.

Truly I hope that your affairs will be turned back to a successor whose very person leaves nothing to be desired.

A turner of opinions whose deliberate calm is feared, just when the reckless and hasty fool makes his sudden starts.