Poem: If there comes to you from me a satire, then
Written by Aws ibn Hajar:
If there comes to you from me a satire, then
It is a gift from me, the noble Ibn Arqama.
He cloaked treason in a guise, and when the clouds
vanished as he beheld the people of Malhama.
So, do you have a plea for me? For I am
a healer for what confounds the skilled physician.
I will extract you from the gown of a filthy Shamtah,
infamous for soaking its hems in blood.
If a neighbor were from among you in my kin,
surely they would recognize the neighbor’s sacred rights.
Even if around me there is a group from Tamim,
my wealth would not be divided amongst you.
Do you not fear Allah while you speak of this
blameworthiness and the sins that are around you?
You find delight in the possibility of deceit,
reposing when the mist descends upon every path.
Poem: You drove me away in fear of satire, yet
Composed by Al-Mutalammis Al-Dhab’i:
You drove me away in fear of satire, yet
by the Goddess and the idols, it does not bother me.
You pledged me to Hind while your honor is in
pages that display your faults clearly.
The worst of kings and the baseness of their lineage
are known among the aware and the ignorant.
Treachery and calamities are their nature,
understand this well, for a proverb fits them.
Wretched is the manhood that produces such offspring,
for they are just like domestic animals that have no control.
Poem: Qudamah has been overshadowed by ignorance
Authored by Al-Hat’itah:
Qudamah has been overshadowed by ignorance,
beneath a coat that has never graced a proud nostril.
You boasted, yet we did not know of your glorious events,
so come forth, let us turn to discord.
And who are you, for we have forgotten your identity?
Your wind is like that of the most fierce tempests.
This one comes upon every path,
to rest or to compete behind the pests.
Whenever you arrived, we saw your forms
as weak, so there was no contemplation amongst us.
You who came with greens and plants,
like a phantom, yet this form of yours does not fly.
Relieve the land of your presence, for your crawling
is akin to the actions of wanton maidservants.
Poem: Indeed, O Aws, your lineage is ignoble
Written by Bishr ibn Abu Khazim:
Indeed, O Aws, ignoble is your lineage,
a servant to a servant among a pack of dogs.
He is so entrenched among them that is base,
that when a seeker approaches, he does not grant praise.
Like a donkey among donkeys, he is weak,
and baseness is an inherited characteristic.
Poem: May God curse all the miscreants
Authored by Imru’ al-Qais:
May Allah curse all the miscreants,
and may He condemn that which has disgraced their dwellings.
And may He favor the clan of Mujash’ as they dominate
the necks of those women who possess the meat-cleavers.
They did not fight for their Lord and their master,
nor did they allow a neighbor’s victorious triumph.
Their actions did not resemble that of the lion
at the door of Hind, when it arose to claim glory.
Poem: I did not accuse you of ill
Written by Tarfa ibn al-Abd:
Indeed, I found you not worthy of ridicule, yet
the idols bleed among them.
I did indeed consider it, when my voice was restrained,
to pass before Ubaidah the dilemma.
I dread your vengeance should you be able to, and
I refrain from betrayal where our words would linger.
Poem: By your life, I shall not speak ill of Manoolah
Composed by Al-Hadirah:
By your life, I shall not speak ill of Manoolah entirely,
but I shall speak against the base ones, the sons of Amr.
Scornful lies against the son of the uncle without reason,
sworn against the flesh of the afflicted and the dates.
Relying upon the deceptive waters, they concern themselves,
as they flow toward you before dawn, their groans rising,
to throw heaps of their salty waters at yours,
folds of blemished white within depths.
Poem: I have slandered the true seers among you
Written by Al-Abbas ibn Murad:
I have slandered the true seers among you,
they enjoyed blessings given through time.
Those are more deserving if you weep for them,
while your people would uphold the truth as their right.
For gratitude is better, a source of purpose,
and better aligned with what was corrected.
It is as if one who cuts off his head,
to reach heights where his honor was erected.
So weep for the sons of Haroon and recall their deeds,
and their deaths from hunger while you were scarce.
Separate their tears with your own, and weep for them,
and turn from their detestable acts and their refusals.
For if you meet them in their abodes,
you would find the actions you have claimed unacknowledged.
They are swift to glory, noble at the clash,
and it is said to the pursuer of good—welcome, and greetings!
Poem: In a realm far from the weak defender
Composed by Amr ibn Qumaiyah:
In a realm far from the weak defender,
I deigned to him what is not in my nature.
When he sees me approaching, he raises his voice
against the horn, and cries out against whoever confronts him.
And he flaunts a steed, yet I have bestowed upon him
for a misled one, clothed in pretense.
Although my kin have betrayed me, my honor,
he remains no better than a vengeful lad.
Poem: I do not see that there is a killer among the slain
Written by Zaid al-Khail al-Tai:
I do not see there to be a killer among the slain,
from among the Amris, who could avenge in slaughter.
He is not the jester who plays among the spear-throwers
and is deemed a casual sport among the influential.
Indeed, Amr is not Amr ibn Tufail,
but the head of the clan of dogs.
This is to encounter him, to gain the certainty,
which settles the eyes of the multitude.
Or if he slips, I have been preempted with a plan,
Madhhij, and the banners of my people stand above.
I have claimed the men from the realm of dust,
yet I have abstained from the blood of dust.
And we have gained from the singular, some of them,
and with Nafil, they did not cause my drink to sour.