Al-Muhalhil: Vengeance at Dawn (From Arabic)

This post's guest of honor is ˁAdī bin Rabīˁa of Taghlib, commonly known as Al-Muhalhil "The Verse-weaver." Born presumably at the very end of the 5th century, he is among the earliest Pre-Islamic Arabian poets to whom any surviving verse of substantive length is attributed. He is chiefly known for poems dealing with the Basūs War, in which a 40-year feud between the tribes of Taghlib and Bakr was supposedly ignited when his brother Kulayb was killed for slaughtering another tribe's stray camel.

Vengeance at Dawn
By Al-Muhalhil of Taghlib
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Long was my night of wake at Anˁamayn 　
　While sleepless at the ceaseless stars I gazed.
How can I age in life while a slain man 　
　Of Taghlib still calls for a man to slay?
Oh chide the eyes for tears shed over ruins.　
　In the breast a wound is torn over Kulayb.
In the breast there is a need unsatisfied 　　
　So long as doves among the branches wail.
How can he ever weep over ruined things　
　Who is pledged to war with men in every age?
How can I forget you Kulayb when I've not quelled　
　The sorrow whelming me, the bloodparched rage?

My heart today make good your bloodwit vow　
　When they ride out at dawn retaliate.
They fetch their bows and we flash lightning bolts　
　 As stallions threatening their stallion prey.
We steel ourselves beneath their flashing steel　
　Till they fall pounded by our long hard blades
And can keep up no more. We keep attacking 　

　For the man who keeps the field is war's true mate.

Audio of me reading this poem in Arabic

The Original:

باتَ لَيلي بالأَنْعَمَين طَويلا  أَرْقُبُ النَجْمَ ساهِراً لَنْ يَزولا
كَيف أٌمدي ولَا يزالُ قتيلٌ مِن بَني وائلٍ يُنادي قتيلا
أُزْجُرِ الْعَينَ أَنْ تُبَكِّي الطُلولا إِنَّ في الصَدْرِ مِنْ كُلَيبٍ فَليلا
إِنَّ في الصَدْرِ حاجةً لَنْ تُقَضَّى ما دَعا في الغُصونِ داعٍ هَديلا
كَيفَ يَبْكي الطُلولَ مَن هو رَهْنٌ بِطِعانِ الأنامِ جيلا فَجِيلا
كَيف أَنساكَ يا كلَيبُ  ولمّا أقضِ حُزناً ينوبُني وغَليلا
أيُّها القَلبُ أَنْجِزِ اليومَ نَحْباً مِن بني الحِصْنِ إذ غَدوا وذُحولا
انتَضَوا مَعْجِسَ القِسي وأَبْرَقْـنا كَما تُوعِد الفُحولُ الفُحولا
وصَبَرْنا تَحتَ البوارِقِ حتَّى دَكْدَكَتْ فيهِمِ السُيوفُ طَويلا
لم يُطيقوا أنْ يَنْزِلوا ونَزَلْنا وَأَخو الحَربِ مَن أَطاقَ النُزولا 

Romanization:

Bāta laylī bi-l-'Anˁamayni ṭawīlā arqubu l-najma sāhiran lan yazūlā

Kayfa umdī wa-lā yazālu qatīlun min Banī Wā'ilin yunādī qatīlā

Uzjuri l-ˁayna an tubakkī l-ṭulūlā inna fī l-ṣadri min Kulaybin falīlā

Inna fī l-ṣadri ḥājatan lan tuqaḍḍā mā daˁā fī l-ġuṣūni dāˁin hadīlā
Kayfa yabkī l-ṭulūla man huwa rahnun bi-ṭiˁāni l-'anāmi jīlan fa-jīlā
Kayfa ansāka yā Kulaybu wa-lammā aqḍi ḥuznan yanūbunī wa-ġalīlā
Ayyuhā l-qalbu anjizi l-yawma naḥban min Banī l-Ḥiṣni iḏ ġadaw wa-ḏuḥūlā
Intaḍaw maˁjisa l-qisiyyi wa-'abraqnā kamā tūˁidu l-fuḥūlu l-fuḥūlā
Wa-ṣabarnā taḥta l-bawāriqi ḥattā dakdakat fīhimi l-suyūfu ṭawīlā
Lam yuṭīqū an yanzilū wa-nazalnā wa-'aḫū l-ḥarbi man aṭāqa l-nuzūlā

Imru' al-Qays: From the Muˁallaqa: The Thunderstorm (From Arabic)

My translation of the finale of the famous Mu'allaqa attributed to Imru'l Qays. A terrific thunderstorm rages over the mountains on the northern edge of the Najd. The scene is imagined over so vast an area that it must be poetic fiction. (As the medieval commentators note:  Sitār, Yaḏbul and Qaṭan cannot possibly all be seen from the same place.) I include a recording in a reconstruction of how literary Arabic may have been prounced in the late Umayyad period (largely based on phonetic descriptions from early grammarians). For more on that see my discussion after.

From the Muˁallaqa: A Mountain Storm
Attributed to Imru' al-Qays
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Do you see lightning, friend? Look there: its flash
forks through the cumulus like fingers, quick
to shed its distant light; there: like the lit

lamp of a monk who tilts oil on the wick.

I sat to watch it with my friends, between
Ḍārij and Al-ˁUdhayb. Oh I gazed far
enough to see the storm raise its right arm
on Mount Qaṭan, its left on Al-Sitār,
and dump its rainload round Kutayfa, slamming

trees' faces to the ground as it went wide.
Its shower bucked on over Mount Qanān
sluicing the mountain goats off every side.
It left no palm-trunk standing at Taymā
nor building built of anything but rock. 
Tall Mount Thabīr stood in its water-onslaught
like a tribe's chieftain in a stripelined cloak.
At dawn, debris on Al-Mujaymir's peaks
lay strewn like spun wool on a spindle-tip.
The storm had left its load upon the desert
like goods a merchant loosens from his hip.
That morning, finches noised about the dales
as if blind drunk on pepper-fiery wine.
That evening, raptors lay drowned at its edge
like ripped-out squills that freakishly entwine.

The Original:

أصَاحِ تَرَِى بَرْقاً أُرِيْكَ وَمِيضَـهُ    كَلَمْـعِ اليَدَيْنِ فِي حَبِيٍّ مُكَلَّـلِ

يُضِيءُ سَنَاهُ أَوْ مَصَابِيْحُ رَاهِـبٍ    أهَانَ السَّلِيْـطَ بِالذُّبَالِ المُفَتَّـلِ

قَعَدْتُ لَهُ وصُحْبَتِي بَيْنَ ضَـارِجٍ    وبَيْنَ العـُذَيْبِ بُعْدَمَا مُتَأَمَّـلِ

عَلَا قَطَنا بِالشَّيْمِ أَيْمَنُ صَوْبِـهِ       وَأَيْسَـرُهُ عَلَى السِّتَارِ فَيَذْبُـلِ

فَأَضْحَى يَسُحُّ المَاءَ حَوْلَ كُتَيْفَةٍ     يَكُبُّ عَلَى الأذْقَانِ دَوْحَ الكَنَهْبَلِ

ومَـرَّ عَلَى القَنَـانِ مِنْ نَفَيَانِـهِ        فَأَنْزَلَ مِنْهُ العُصْمَ مِنْ كُلِّ مَنْـزِلِ

وتَيْمَاءَ لَمْ يَتْرُكْ بِهَا جِذْعَ نَخْلَـةٍ     وَلاَ أٌجُماً إِلاَّ مَشِيْداً بِجِنْـدَلِ

كَأَنَّ ثَبِيْـراً فِي عَرَانِيْـنِ وَبْلِـهِ       كَبِيْـرُ أُنَاسٍ فِي بِجَـادٍ مُزَمَّـلِ

كَأَنَّ ذُرَى رَأْسِ المُجَيْمِرِ غُـدْوَةً    مِنَ السَّيْلِ وَالأَغثَاءِ فَلْكَةُ مِغْـزَلِ

وأَلْقَى بِصَحْـرَاءِ الغَبيْطِ بَعَاعَـهُ    نُزُوْلَ اليَمَانِي ذِي العِيَابِ المُحَمَّلِ

كَأَنَّ مَكَـاكِيَّ الجِـوَاءِ غُدَّبَـةً         صُبِحْنَ سُلافاً مِنْ رَحيقٍ مُفَلْفَـلِ

كَأَنَّ السِّبَـاعَ فِيْهِ غَرْقَى عَشِيَّـةً     بِأَرْجَائِهِ القُصْوَى أَنَابِيْشُ عُنْصُـلِ

Note:

The Arabic of my audio recording is in what I choose to call "Early Classical Arabic" pronunciation. To put it grandiosely, it is a kind of Arabic that hasn't been heard for over a thousand years. To put it plainly, it is a speculative reconstruction of the kind of Arabic pronunciation the grammarian Sibawayh might have used, based on his description of Arabic speech-sounds, and augmented with some inference based on typology. The main differences from textbook Classical Arabic as it is taught and learned today are as follows:

The ج was /ɟ/ (not /dʒ/)
The ش was /ɕ/ (not /ʃ/) 
The ص was (for an indeterminate number of speakers including Sibawayh) an affricate /t͡sˤ/ rather than the fricative /sˁ/.  (For reasoning behind this reconstruction see this article by Ahmad Al-Jallad).
The ض was a pharyngealized lateral, probably /ɮˤ/ or /d͡ɮˤ/ (the modern /dˁ/ pronunciation is much more recent)
The ت and ك appear to have been quite strongly aspirated /kʰ tʰ/. 
In addition to the familiar three vowels /a: i: u:/ there existed /e:/ for many speakers (and, more marginally, /o:/ for some.) 
The vowel /a:/ was optionally raised to [e:] due to i-mutation under a complex of different circumstances, partially neutralizing the contrast between /a:/ and phonemic /e:/ and giving the realizations of /a:/ a range and distribution not commonly heard in modern elevated poetic recitations. 

Although I render ش as alveolo-palatal /ɕ/, full disclosure requires noting that another possibility would be a true palatal non-sibilant /ç/, which is what many (perhaps most) posit based on a strict interpretation of Sibawayhi's statement. Now, Sibawayhi, who doesn't get enough credit as a phonetician, could probably have distinguished palatal from alveolo-palatal articulation. But whether he would have cared to is a different question. Although he groups ي ش ج at the same place of articulation, it is only ش which causes assimilation of the definite article. Thus there was something about šīn that made it pattern, for assimilation purposes, with the coronals rather than the dorsals. The most straightforward interpretation would be that this is because šīn was indeed a sibilant. Sibilants as an articulatory class involve a centerline grooved tongue focusing the airstream such that it strikes the teeth. Whereas non-sibilant fricatives do not involve the teeth as a secondary articulator. Sibilants, probably because of the need to involve the teeth, are always coronal. Alveolo-palatal articulation sits uneasily in a no-man's land between the dorsal and coronals, and is as far back as you can go and still produce a sound that behaves acoustically and structurally like a sibilant. For /ç/ to function as a sibilant, it must thus have front articulation [ç̟], which (notational and theoretical games aside) makes it functionally /ɕ/. 

One phonologically interesting way in which Sibawayhi's Arabic was likely counterintuitive from the standpoint of many modern accents of the standard language, and doubly so for non-native Arabic speakers given how they tend to be taught, is that what we normally think of as voiced plain stops /b d ɟ/ and voiceless plain stops /t k/ did not — strictly speaking — have presence or absence of voicing per se as their distinguishing feature. In this, Sibawayh's Arabic would align with certain modern dialects like San'ani Arabic. (See Phonation and glottal states in Modern South Arabian and San’ani Arabic by Janet Watson and Barry Heselwood for this and more, including a good explanation of a crucial articulatory category in Sibawayh's description.) The chief featural distinction between the two sets was probably aspiration in the latter and non-aspiration (with adductive glottal tension) in the former. In a dialect like this, although /b d ɟ/ probably did not have fully specified voicing, much of the time this would be of little phonetic consequence since in most positions voicing would be triggered positionally. In post-pausal position, however, although /b d ɟ/ would trigger a glottal prephonation state, their actual voice-onset time would not necessarily be different from that of a voiceless non-aspirated stop. 

Al-Mutanabbi: On the Recapture of Al-Ḥadath (From Arabic)

The year is 954 A.D. Al-Ḥadath Al-Ḥamrā is a strategically important town on the Arab-Byzantine border, between Marˁaš and Malaṭiya, which depended for protection on a fortress built on nearby Mount Uḥaydib. After being captured and demilitarized in 950 by the Byzantines, it was retaken in October of 954 by Sayfu l-Dawla Abū Ḥasan Bin Ḥamdān, the Emir of Aleppo (whom I have seen fit to anglicize as Lord Ali the Realmsword) who set about refortifying it, only to be interrupted by the appearance of Byzantine forces under the command of Bardas Phocas. Before the end of the month, a decisive battle was fought around Mount Uhaydib. After a day of heavy fighting, Lord Realmsword with a small company of hardened men broke through the Byzantine line. Bardas' forces retreated, leaving members of his own family as prisoners. Lord Realmsword was then able to finish up the fortification of Al-Hadath, whereupon he had the pleasure of hearing his court poet Abū Ṭayyib Al-Mutanabbī recite the poem translated here in celebration of the occasion.

Oh and here's a recording of me reciting the Arabic text:

A. Z. Foreman · Al-Mutanabbi's panegyric to Sayfu l-Dawlah on the taking of Al-Hadath

In Praise of Lord Realmsword on the Recapture of Al-Hadath
By Al-Mutanabbī
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

This translation is dedicated to Tahera Qutbuddin, in whose wonderful seminar I had the pleasure of reading this and other poems by Al-Mutanabbī and got some idea of how to translate him. 

Resolutions measure　a man's resolve
　and noble deeds　a noble name.
Small deeds loom large　to little eyes

　and great deeds shrink　in a great man's gaze.

Behold Lord Ali　of the house of Hamdan,
　See how Realmsword　is rightly his name.
He wills his forces　to show the force of his will
　which hardened brigades　can hardly attain
He expects of his men　no more than himself
　but more than the lordliest　of lions can claim.
Agelong vultures　of the vast drylands
　would pledge their lives　to protect his blades.
They'd meet no harm　though made talonless
　since his sturdy arms　of steel were made.
Does that Red City　still realize her color,⁽²⁾
　whether cloudbursts brought　the blood or the rain?
Where first she drank　of flashing clouds
　she drank of skulls　the day he came.
While blade beat blade　he built and braced her
　where she shook from the force　of the Fates' brute waves.
She lay mad in the hold　of an unholy spell
　that dead bodies broke　at break of day.

Displaced by Fate　to a foreign creed,
　the strike of your swords　restored her Faith.
What nights yield to you　is yours forever.
　What they steal from you　they soon must repay.
Plans you pass are verbs　in the present now 
　having moved to past　before men can negate.
No Roman or Viking⁽³⁾ 　could raze that stronghold
　raised with pikethrusts　 for pillars and base.
No wronged man died　and no wrongdoer lived
　when they called her to justice.　The Judge was Fate.

So clad in steel　they came at you
　their coursers seemed legless　crossing the plain.
When they flashed, their blades 　all blended in
　with steel garments　aglint with day,
An army on the crawl　from east and west
　clamoring till the ears　of Orion⁽⁴⁾ ached,
A horde of tangled　tongues and peoples
　with translators for each　order relayed. 

Then that molten time　melted fake mettle 
　till only war's metal　and men remained
Every sword shattered　that failed to shatter
　the bulwark of bloodwood　and bucklers and mail
Every fool turned gutless　in fear of gutting
　fled from the ranks　of fighters that day. 
Where standing meant death　you stood your ground
　as if on the sleeping　eyelids of bane.
While wounded, fright-fouled　fighters ran past you
　you fought with a smile　and a shining face
and went beyond bounds　of bravery and reason
　till they said you knew　the Numen's ways.

I know how hawks 　will hold birds down
　in a grip to gut 　their grounded game.⁽⁵⁾
You squeezed the foe's wings　on a squirming heart
　and dealt hard death　to downstruck prey.
You skivered their skulls　when you still hadn't won
　then their vitals and throats　as victory came. 
You detested lances 　and tossed them aside,
　your sword spitting　on spears at close range. 

Let any who look　for the light of conquest
　see it in the luster　of lightweight blades.
You strewed them hard　over Uháydib like coins
　strewn over a woman　on her wedding day.  
Your horses trampled　the hilltop nests
　where fodder galore　before them lay.
Eaglets imagined 　it was their mothers you brought,
　not the sturdy wingfoot 　steeds that raced
till they slipped and you had them　slide on their bellies　
　across the earth　like crawling snakes. 

Will the Domesticus⁽⁶⁾ dare　every day against you
　with his neck fighting 　his advancing face? 
Does he not sense lions' 　scent till he tastes it?
　Even wildbeasts can sense　a lion on the way. 
Our leader's sorties　struck him hard 
　when his son, his wife's brother 　and his son were slain.
Troops helped him scamp　to escape the swords
　that were busy hacking 　their heads away. 
He got the message 　of Mashrafi⁽⁷⁾ steel
　to his men, though told　 in the tongue of strangers. 
He was glad to surrender　not in stupidity,
　but after his loss　even life was a gain.　
You are no mere king　who conquers his peer⁽⁸⁾
     but the one God's triumph　over triune pagans,
You have ennobled 　all of Adnan⁽⁹⁾,
　 Pride of the Outlands⁽¹⁰⁾　and all creation. 
The praise is yours　for my pearls of verse:
　I just string them. 　You set their shape. 　　
Your gifts⁽¹¹¹⁾ gallop with me　through the grind of war
　so you bear no regrets　and I no blame
On a steed whose feet 　fly to battle
　as soon as it hears　the howling fray.

Oh Realmsword unsheathed 　and ready forever,
　held in no doubt　nor held at bay.
Joy to skull-strikers,　to stout men's deeds,
　to them that love you　and Islam: you are safe. 
And why wouldn't God　still guard your edge
　to behead his foes　with you for a blade?

Notes:


2 — Hali l-ḥadaṯu l-ḥamrā'u taˁrifu lawnahā? (Literally: "Does Red Al-Hadath know her color?")

"Red" was a term that could be used for non-Arabs, especially Persians, Greeks or "Franks" (Western Europeans) who were seen as being of lighter complexion. E.g. Atānī kullu aswada minhum wa'aḥmar "Every one of them, Arab and not, came to me". A saying attributed to Muhammad has it that buˁiṯtu ilā l-'aḥmari wa-l-aswad "I was sent to the red and the black" of which the most straightforward interpretation is "to all mankind, Arab and not." The term Al-Ḥamrā' as a collective adjective may also be used to refer generically to foreigners, or to emancipated slaves.

Al-Hadaṯ Al-Ḥamrā' "Red Hadath" is the traditional appellation of the city. The color is — I think — being played on at multiple levels. She (the city is morphosyntactically feminine) is in the most obvious sense "red" after being soaked with blood. But she was also a "red" (foreign, Greek) city when under Byzantine rule, which she no longer is. She is now "red" (emancipated from bondage) now that Lord Realmsword has relieved her of foreign control. Despite her traditional appellation, she may not even know that she is now red in one sense, and was red in the other, so completely has she now been redeemed to her proper place under Islamdom.

3 — "Vikings". The original text uses the word Rūs which in Modern Arabic simply means "Russians." Anglophone commenters on this poem have usually translated it thus, and Arabic commentaries often leave the word unglossed as though its meaning were transparent. But the Arabic word Rūs, at this time, actually referred to Norsemen (specifically the Byzantine Varangian guard is probably what is meant.) Since English "Rus" is far too scholarly, and "Norsemen" would be a bit too specific, I have used the most readily intelligible term Vikings. (I considered calquing off of Old Norse Garðmaðr and rendering the phrase as "Greeks and Garthmen" or the like. But somehow it felt a bit silly to go to such an extreme.)

4 — The original actually refers to Gemini, a different constellation. But makes for a more transparent image of an anthropomorphized stellar figure.

5 — This verse, like some others in my translation, does not have an exact counterpart in the original. But it served in English to make the image clearer. Al-Mutanabbī's description evokes the way a hawk pounces on larger types of prey. The predator holds its prey to the ground, delivering blows to the skull to dispatch it fully before slashing into the throat.

6 — Domesticus (or, rather δομέστικος) was Bardas' Byzantine military title, loaned into Arabic as dumustuq, which is the word Al-Mutanabbī uses.

7 — In poetry, good swords are often said to be "Mashrafi" after an obscure place called Mashraf. Nobody quite knows why, though everybody likes to guess.

8 — Literally "You are monotheism defeating polytheism (širk)". That Christians have in some sense diluted the principle of monotheism by worshipping a trinity was — as it still is — a commonplace of anti-Christian Muslim polemic.

9 — Adnan: the Northern Arabs are supposedly descendants of ˁAdnān.

10 — "Outlands" is my rendering of ˁawāṣim. The word has often been misread as meaning "capitals" which is its sense in Modern Arabic. The term ˁawāṣim here refers to a part of the frontier zone between the Byzantine Empire and the Empire of the Caliphs. The forward strongholds of this zone were called ṯuġūr "mouths", while those further rearward were called the ˁawāṣim "guardianesses". 

11 — Lord Realmsword had gifted the poet with some horses.

The Original:

عَلى قَدْرِ أهْلِ العَزْم تأتي العَزائِمُ   وَتأتي علَى قَدْرِ الكِرامِ المَكارمُ

وَتَعْظُمُ في عَينِ الصّغيرِ صغارُها وَتَصْغُرُ في عَين العَظيمِ العَظائِمُ

يُكَلّفُ سيفُ الدّوْلَةِ الجيشَ هَمّهُ وَقد عَجِزَتْ عنهُ الجيوشُ الخضارمُ

وَيَطلُبُ عندَ النّاسِ ما عندَ نفسِه وَذلكَ ما لا تَدّعيهِ الضّرَاغِمُ

يُفَدّي أتَمُّ الطّيرِ عُمْراً سِلاحَهُ نُسُورُ الفَلا أحداثُها وَالقَشاعِمُ

وَما ضَرّها خَلْقٌ بغَيرِ مَخالِبٍ وَقَدْ خُلِقَتْ أسيافُهُ وَالقَوائِمُ

هَلِ الحَدَثُ الحَمراءُ تَعرِفُ لوْنَها وَتَعْلَمُ أيُّ السّاقِيَيْنِ الغَمَائِمُ

سَقَتْها الغَمَامُ الغُرُّ قَبْلَ نُزُولِهِ فَلَمّا دَنَا مِنها سَقَتها الجَماجِمُ

بَنَاهَا فأعْلى وَالقَنَا يَقْرَعُ القَنَا وَمَوْجُ المَنَايَا حَوْلَها مُتَلاطِمُ

وَكانَ بهَا مثْلُ الجُنُونِ فأصْبَحَتْ وَمِنْ جُثَثِ القَتْلى عَلَيْها تَمائِمُ

طَريدَةُ دَهْرٍ ساقَها فَرَدَدْتَهَا على  الدّينِ بالخَطّيّ وَالدّهْرُ رَاغِمُ

تُفيتُ کللّيالي كُلَّ شيءٍ أخَذْتَهُ وَهُنّ لِمَا يأخُذْنَ منكَ غَوَارِمُ

إذا كانَ ما تَنْوِيهِ فِعْلاً مُضارِعاً مَضَى قبلَ أنْ تُلقى علَيهِ الجَوازِمُ

وكيفَ تُرَجّي الرّومُ والرّوسُ هدمَها وَذا الطّعْنُ آساسٌ لهَا وَدَعائِمُ

وَقَد حاكَمُوهَا وَالمَنَايَا حَوَاكِمٌ فَما ماتَ مَظلُومٌ وَلا عاشَ ظالِمُ

أتَوْكَ يَجُرّونَ الحَديدَ كَأنّمَا سَرَوْا إليك بِجِيَادٍ ما لَهُنّ قَوَائِمُ

إذا بَرَقُوا لم تُعْرَفِ البِيضُ منهُمُ ثِيابُهُمُ من مِثْلِها وَالعَمَائِمُ

خميسٌ بشرْقِ الأرْضِ وَالغرْبِ زَحْفُهُ وَفي أُذُنِ الجَوْزَاءِ منهُ زَمَازِمُ

تَجَمّعَ فيهِ كلُّ لِسْنٍ وَأُمّةٍ فَمَا يُفْهِمُ الحُدّاثَ إلاّ الترَاجِمُ

فَلِلّهِ وَقْتٌ ذَوّبَ الغِشَّ نَارُهُ فَلَمْ يَبْقَ إلاّ صَارِمٌ أوْ ضُبارِمُ

تَقَطّعَ ما لا يَقْطَعُ الدّرْعَ وَالقَنَا وَفَرّ منَ الفُرْسانِ مَنْ لا يُصادِمُ

وَقَفْتَ وَما في المَوْتِ شكٌّ لوَاقِفٍ كأنّكَ في جَفنِ الرّدَى وهْوَ نائِمُ

تَمُرّ بكَ الأبطالُ كَلْمَى هَزيمَةً وَوَجْهُكَ وَضّاحٌ وَثَغْرُكَ باسِمُ

تجاوَزْتَ مِقدارَ الشّجاعَةِ والنُّهَى إلى قَوْلِ قَوْمٍ أنتَ بالغَيْبِ عالِمُ

ضَمَمْتَ جَناحَيهِمْ على القلبِ ضَمّةً تَمُوتُ الخَوَافي تحتَها وَالقَوَادِمُ

بضَرْبٍ أتَى الهاماتِ وَالنّصرُ غَائِبٌ وَصَارَ إلى اللّبّاتِ وَالنّصرُ قَادِمُ

حَقَرْتَ الرُّدَيْنِيّاتِ حتى طَرَحتَها وَحتى كأنّ السّيفَ للرّمحِ شاتِمُ

وَمَنْ طَلَبَ الفَتْحَ الجَليلَ فإنّمَا مَفاتِيحُهُ البِيضُ الخِفافُ الصّوَارِمُ

نَثَرْتَهُمُ فَوْقَ الأُحَيْدِبِ كُلّهِ كمَا نُثِرَتْ فَوْقَ العَرُوسِ الدّراهمُ

تدوسُ بكَ الخيلُ الوكورَ على الذُّرَى وَقد كثرَتْ حَوْلَ الوُكورِ المَطاعِمُ

تَظُنّ فِراخُ الفُتْخِ أنّكَ زُرْتَهَا بأُمّاتِها وَهْيَ العِتاقُ الصّلادِمُ

إذا زَلِقَتْ مَشّيْتَها ببُطونِهَا كمَا تَتَمَشّى في الصّعيدِ الأراقِمُ

أفي كُلّ يَوْمٍ ذا الدُّمُسْتُقُ مُقدِمٌ قَفَاهُ على الإقْدامِ للوَجْهِ لائِمُ

أيُنكِرُ رِيحَ اللّيثِ حتى يَذُوقَهُ وَقد عَرَفتْ ريحَ اللّيوثِ البَهَائِمُ

وَقد فَجَعَتْهُ بابْنِهِ وَابنِ صِهْرِهِ وَبالصّهْرِ حَمْلاتُ الأميرِ الغَوَاشِمُ

مضَى يَشكُرُ الأصْحَابَ في فوْته الظُّبَى لِمَا شَغَلَتْهَا هامُهُمْ وَالمَعاصِمُ

وَيَفْهَمُ صَوْتَ المَشرَفِيّةِ فيهِمِ على أنّ أصْواتَ السّيوفِ أعَاجِمُ

يُسَرّ بمَا أعْطاكَ لا عَنْ جَهَالَةٍ وَلكِنّ مَغْنُوماً نَجَا منكَ غانِمُ

وَلَسْتَ مَليكاً هازِماً لِنَظِيرِهِ وَلَكِنّكَ التّوْحيدُ للشّرْكِ هَازِمُ

تَشَرّفُ عَدْنانٌ بهِ لا رَبيعَةٌ وَتَفْتَخِرُ الدّنْيا بهِ لا العَوَاصِمُ

لَكَ الحَمدُ في الدُّرّ الذي ليَ لَفظُهُ فإنّكَ مُعْطيهِ وَإنّيَ نَاظِمُ

وَإنّي لَتَعْدو بي عَطَايَاكَ في الوَغَى فَلا أنَا مَذْمُومٌ وَلا أنْتَ نَادِمُ

عَلى كُلّ طَيّارٍ إلَيْهَا برِجْلِهِ إذا وَقَعَتْ في مِسْمَعَيْهِ الغَمَاغِمُ

ألا أيّها السّيفُ الذي لَيسَ مُغمَداً وَلا فيهِ مُرْتابٌ وَلا منْهُ عَاصِمُ

هَنيئاً لضَرْبِ الهَامِ وَالمَجْدِ وَالعُلَى وَرَاجِيكَ وَالإسْلامِ أنّكَ سالِمُ

وَلِمْ لا يَقي الرّحم?نُ حدّيك ما وَقى وَتَفْليقُهُ هَامَ العِدَى بكَ دائِمُ

Ghayyar-El ben Ghawth: A Safaitic War Chant (from Old Arabic)

Today we have an ancient Safaitic war chant, a poem discovered and deciphered by Ahmad Al-Jallad at Marabb al-Shurafā', a mudflat in the Ḥarrah of north-eastern Jordan. The inscription is hard to date but probably comes from around the turn of the first centuries BC and AD. 

It seems to me that a Safaitic inscriptional text, especially one this which is thus far unique in its length and register, would have been chanted, given the highly ritualized nature. (Certainly in more recent centuries that seems to have been — and to a degree still is — the traditional Bedouin practice.) So I did that here in reading the original text. I offer my own translation, composed for readability.

Safaitic War Chant

By Ghayyar-El(?)

Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Click to hear me recite the original in a reconstruction of Safaitic Arabic

By Ghayyar-El son of Ghawth of the line of Hathay, from when he left his folk

      Now let him camp for war
            So be his final campment here today
      Fame for him is first
            So be his final campment here today

      He suffers who returns
            So be his final campment here today

He made for the marchlands, and alighted in the heath. There he kept watch for his uncle Sakran, exalting him with "Fortune be his". 

So keep him safe, Allāt.

The Original:

(Tracing done by Al-Jallad)

𐩡𐩶𐩺𐩧𐩱𐩡𐩨𐩬𐩶𐩻𐩹𐩱𐩡𐩢𐩼𐩺𐩥𐩧𐩢𐩡 𐩣𐩱𐩠𐩡𐩠

𐩰𐩢𐩡𐩡𐩠𐩣𐩢𐩧𐩨

𐩰𐩠𐩺𐩣𐩠𐩬𐩱𐩭𐩧𐩢𐩡𐩡

𐩧𐩱𐩪𐩹𐩫𐩧𐩩

𐩰𐩠𐩺𐩣𐩠𐩬𐩱𐩭𐩧𐩢𐩡𐩡

𐩲𐩬𐩺𐩣𐩬𐩢𐩮𐩰

𐩰𐩠𐩺𐩣𐩠𐩬𐩱𐩭𐩧𐩢𐩡𐩡

𐩢𐩵𐩵𐩥𐩻𐩥𐩺𐩨𐩠𐩧𐩳𐩩𐩥𐩭𐩧𐩮𐩭𐩡𐩠𐩪𐩫𐩧𐩬𐩺𐩧𐩨𐩰𐩠𐩨𐩤𐩡𐩰𐩸𐩠

𐩰𐩠𐩡𐩩𐩪𐩡𐩣

Sargon Boulus: Du Fu in Exile (From Arabic)

In Arabic, this poet's use of the words manfā "exile" and nakabāt "catastrophes, ordeals" has a very contemporary political undertone to my ear, evoking (but not exactly invoking) the catastrophic upheavals and displacements that have taken place in the Arab world over the past century.

Du Fu in Exile
By Sargon Boulus
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

"The smoke of war is blue
White the bones of men" 

The village Du Fu came to
Was a borough where the fire was almost out
He came knowing that Words
Like his hungry horse, without some feed,
Might not have much left in them 
After so many ordeals
 
So many battlefields 
He came across, where bleak winds bleach
The bones of a horseman jumbled up
With horse bones. Soon enough, grass would hide the rest.

A fire to warm the hands by
As his head hung low, the heart all firewood...

He
Had to start wandering on his own at twenty
And never once found a place to stay
Wherever he was, a war was on. And on.

His daughter died in a famine
In China, they say he wrote like the gods

Another village Du Fu came to
Poured smoke up from its kitchens
As hungry people waited in front of the baker's
The bakers' sweat-soaked faces: mirrors
Bearing witness to the heat of their fires

Du Fu. You, sir, are Lord of Exile. 

The Original:

تو فو في المنفى

سِركُون بولص

"دخانُ الحرب أزرق

بيضاء عظامُ البشر."

قريةٌ يَصلُ إليها تو فو
دَسْكرةٌ فيها نارٌ تكادُ تنطفئْ
يَصلُ اليها عارفاً أنّ الكلمة
مثلَ حصانه النافق، دون حَفنة من البَرسيم
قد لا تبقى مزهرةً بعدَ كلّ هذه النـَكبات!

كم ساحة معركة
مرّ بها تصفُرُ فيها الريح
عظامُ الفارس فيها اختلطتْ
بعظام حصَانه، والعشبُ سرعان ما أخفى البقيّة!

نارٌ تتدفّأ عليها يَدان
بينما الرأسُ يتدلّى والقلبُ حَطب

هو الذي بدأ بالتِّيه في العشرين
لم يجد مكاناً يستقرّ فيه حتى النهاية.
حيثما كان، كانت الحربُ وأوزارُها.

ابنتهُ ماتت في مجاعة. . .
ويُقالُ في الصين أنه كان يكتبُ كالآلهة!

قريةٌ أخرى يصلُ اليها تو فو
يتصاعدُ منها دخانُ المطابخ
وينتظر الجياعُ على أبواب مَخبَز.
وجوهُ الخبّازين المتصبّبة عرَقاً، مرايا
تشهدُ على ضَراوة النيران.

تو فو، أنت، أيّها السيّد، يا سيّد المنفى.

Nizar Qabbani: "Less Beautiful" (From Arabic)

Less Beautiful
By Nizar Qabbani
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click here to hear me recite the Arabic

Whenever I see you, I despair of my verse.
I only despair of my poems
When I am with you.
Beautiful you are...so much
So that when I think about what awe you strike... I gasp for breath.
As my language gasps
And my lexicon gasps
For breath.
Deliver me from these problematics!
Be less beautiful
So I can recover my poetics.
Be a typical woman
Of kohl, perfume, pregnancy and childbirth.
Be a woman
Like any other,
And reconcile me with my language
And my tongue.

The Original:

اقل جمالا
نزار قباني

كلّما رأيتُكِ... أيأس من قصائدي
إنني لا أيأسُ من قصائدي
إلّا حين أكون معكِ...
جميلة انت... إلى درجة أنني
حينُ أفكِّر بِرَوعتِك...ألهَثُ...
تَلهثُ لغتي...
وتَلهَثُ مفرداتي...
خلِّصيني من هذا الإشكال
كوني اقلَّ جَمالاً...
حتّا أستردَّ شاعريتي
كوني امرأةً عادية
تَتَكحَّل وتتعطَّر...وتحبل...وتَلِد
كوني
امرأة مثلَ كلِّ النساء
حتى أتصالحَ مع لغتي
ومع فمي.

Adunis: The Seven Days (From Arabic)

If you know Arabic you'll notice I took some liberty with the first line- so as to make the Biblical allusion more obvious.

The Seven Days
By Adunis (aka Ali Ahmad Said)
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Arabic

O Mother, mock not
My love, my hatred.
For in seven days you were created
And created the horizon, the waves
And the song's plume.

My seven days are a crow and a wound
So why the mystery in the end
When I like you am earth and wind?

The Original:

الأيام السبعة

ادونيس

أيها الأم التي تسخر

من حبي ومقتي

أنتِ في سبعة أيام خُلِقتِ

فخلَقْتِ الموج والأفق

وريش الأغنيه،

وأنا أيامي السبعة جُرحٌ وغراب

فلماذا الأُحجيه

وأنا مثلكِ ريحٌ وتراب؟

Nizar Qabbani: Take off your Clothes (From Arabic)

Take Off Your Clothes
By Nizar Qabbani
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click here to hear me recite the Arabic

Take off your clothes.
It has been ages since a miracle
Touched the earth. Take off your clothes
For I am mute, but your body knows
Every tongue. Take off your clothes.

The Original:

تعري
نزار قباني

تعري فمنذ زمان طويل
على الأرض لم تسقط المعجزات
تعري .. تعري
أنا أخرس
وجسمك يعرف كل اللغات

Abū Nuwās: Wine, Boys and Song (From Arabic)

Wine, Boys and Song
By Abū Nuwās
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Sing me a song, sweet Sulayman, 
and quench me with sweet wine.
When the bottle comes around, pass it 
with your hands into mine. 
Look! Morning's in the sky, already
its flaxen loincloth shines. 
With cups of comfort wash the call 
to prayer from my mind. 
Give me some wine to drink in public, 
then fuck me from behind.

The Original:

قال ابو نواس

ياسُلَيْمانُ غَنّني ، ومِنَ الرّاحِ فاسْـقِـني 

فإذا دَارَتِ الزّجـا جَـة ُ خُـذْها ، وعاطِني 

ما تَرَى الصّبْحَ قَدْ بَدا في إزارٍ متَبَّنِ

عاطِـني كأسَ سَـلْوَة ٍ عَنْ أذانِ المؤذِّنِ 

اسْقِـني الخمْرَ جهْرَةً وألْـِطني ، وأزْنني 

Romanization:

Yā sulaymānu ɣanninī, wa mina l-rāħi fa-sqinī
Fa-iðā dārati l-zujājatu xuðhā, wa-ˁāṭinī
Mā tarā l-ṣubħa qad badā fī izārin mutabbani
Aˁṭinī ka'sa salwatin ˁan aðāni l-mu'aððini
Isqinī l-xamra jahratan wa-aliṭnī wa-'azninī

Nazeeh Abu Afash: God The Infidel (From Arabic)

Nazeeh Abu Afash is a self-descibed Arab Christian Atheist profoundly concerned with God as an idea, and deeply influenced by the book of Job. The poem here translated may be read as updating the voice of Job for the modern condition, and also taking God down a notch. 

God the Infidel
By Nazeeh Abu Afash
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Arabic 

O god! Tell me the truth!
My enemies say:
    "Everyone wants to..." et cetera
And the enemies of my enemies say:
    "Everyone wants to...." et cetera.
As for me, since you created every one and everyone,
I still - resting assured of your immaculacy and justice -
Raise my hand
Like a schoolchild threatened with expulsion
But as ever
Get nobody's permission to say anything

My god, O my god!
You, god of worms and vegetation, of cattle and all weeping creatures...
Could you have been messing with me?*
What everybody says means there's an everybody that knows the truth
       and another everybody that knows another truth.
What everybody says means that I do not exist
What everybody says means that nobody but everybody exists
What they say means
      That you were messing with me.  

*Full disclosure: The expression ḍaħika ˁalā normally means "deride, make fun of" but it can, depending on, context also mean "to kid (someone), to pull (someone's) leg" as in the phrase ˁalā man taḑħak? "Who do you think you're kidding? What're you trying to pull?" In this context "mess with" rather than, say,  "make fun of" seemed called for, both to bring the Jobian implications out fully, and because one of Abu Afash's favorite tactics (one especially on display here) involves subverting the lofty by casting it in un-lofty and often flippant terms. "Mess with" seemed the most appropriate, connotatively more than denotatively, for what Abu Afash seems to have been trying to accomplish (I decided against the option of "screw with" since, while Abu Afash often inclines toward approximations of colloquial language, this seemed like overkill in a number of ways.)      


The Original:

الله الكافر

نزيه ابو عفش

الهي! قل لي الحقيقة!

اعدائي يقولون: 

    "الناس كلهم يريدون ان..." الى آخره

وأعداء اعدائي يقولون: 

"الناس كلهم يريدون ان...." الى آخره.

أما أنا، منذ أن خلقت كلهم وكلم،

فلا أزال - مطمئنّاً إلى نزاهتك وعدلك- 

أرفع اصبعي الى فوق

كما يفعل تلميذ مهدد بالطرد

لكن، على الدوام، 

لا احد يأذن لي أن اقول شيئاً

الهي! يا الهي!

إله الديدان والنباتات والبهائم والكائنات الباكية

أتكون قد ضَحِكْت عليّ؟

ما يقوله الجميعُ يعني أن ثمّةَ "جميعا" على حقّ

و"جميعا" آخرُ على حقٍّ آخر.

ما يقوله الجميع يعني أنني لست موجودا.

ما يقوله الجميع يعني ألّا وجودَ لأحدٍ غير الجميع.

ما يقولونه يعني

أنك ضحكت عليّ

Romanization:

Allāhu l-Kāfir

Ilāhī! Qul lī l-ħāqīqa

Aˁdā'ī yaqūlūn: 

"Al-nāsu kulluhum yurīdūna an..." ilā āxirih

Wa-'aˁdā'u aˁdā'ī yaqūlūn:

"Al-nāsu kulluhum yurīdūna an..." ilā āxirih.

Ammā anā, munðu an xalaqta kullahum wa-kullahum,

Fa-lā azālu - muṭma'innan ilā nazāhatika wa-ˁadlik

Arfaˁu iṣbaˁī ilā fawq

Kamā yafˁalu tilmīðun muhaddadun bi-l-ṭard

Lākin, ˁalā l-dawām

Lā aħada ya'ðinu lī an aqūla šay'an. 

Ilāhī! Yā ilāhī!

Ilāha l-dīdāni wa-l-nabātāti wa-l-bahā'imi wa-l-kā'ināti l-bākiya

A-takūnu qad ḍaħikta ˁalayya?

Mā yaqūluhū l-jamīˁu yaˁnī anna θammata "jamīˁan" ˁalā ħaqqi

Wa-"jamīˁan" āxara ˁalā ħaqqin āxar.

Mā yaqūluhū l-jamīˁu yaˁnī annanī lastu mawjūdan.

Mā yaqūluhū l-jamīˁu yaˁnī allā wujūda li-'aħadin ɣayra l-jamīˁ

Mā yaqūlūnahū yaˁnī

Annaka ḍaħikta ˁalayya

Abdul-Wahhab Al-Bayati: Poem for the Man of Light (From Arabic)

Poem for the Man of Light
By Abdul-Wahhab Al-Bayati
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click here to hear me recite the Arabic

The man of light
Goes vagrant through my sleep at night
He stops in the abandoned corner
To extract words from my memory to write
And rewrite them aloud,
To blot lines out.
He looks into the mirror
Of the house sunken deep in the darklight.
He recollects something
And slinks from my sleep.
I wake in dread
And try to recollect some thing
Of what he wrote, of what was said,
In vain. For the light
Has erased the papers and my memory
With daybreak's deadman white.

The Original:

قصيدة لرجل النور
عبد الوهاب البياتي

يتجول في نومي رجل النور
يتوقف في الركن المهجور
يُخرج من ذاكرتي كلماتٍ
يكتبها
ويعيد كتابتها في صوت مسموع
يمحو بعض سطور
ينظر في مرآة البيت الغارق بالظلمة والنور
يتذكر شيئاً
فيغادر نومي
استيقظ مذعوراً
وأحاول أن أتذكر شيئاً
مما قال ومما هو مكتوب
عبثاً ، فالنور
مسح الأوراق وذاكرتي
ببياض الفجر المقتول .

Romanization:

Qaṣīdatun li-rajuli l-nūr

Yatajawwalu fī nawmī rajulu l-nūr

Yatawaqqafu fī l-rukni l-mahjūr

Yuxriju min ðākiratī kalimātin

Yaktubuhā

Wa-yuˁīdu kitābatahā fī ṣawtin masmūˁ

Yamħū baˁḍa suṭūr

Yanẓuru fī mir'āti l-bayti l-ɣāriqi bi-l-ẓulmati wa-l-nūr

Yataðakkaru šay'an

Fa-yuɣādiru nawmī

Astayqiẓu maðˁūran

Wa-'uħāwilu an ataðakkara šay'an

Mimmā qāla wa-mimmā huwa maktūb

ˁabaθan, fa-l-nūr

Masaħa l-awrāqa wa-ðākiratī

Bi-biyāḍi l-fajri l-maqtūl.