A lightning-cloud gleamed at Dhát al-Aḍá

A lightning-cloud gleamed at Dhát al-Aḍá, with light flashing over the plain thereof,
And the thunder of its secret converse cracked, and its rain-cloud let fall copious showers.
They called to one another: 'Make the camels kneel!' but they did not listen, and I in my passion cried out: 'O driver,
Alight here and abide, for I love one who is with you,
A woman, slender, lissome, of fresh beauty, for whom the heart of the sad lover is longing.'
The assembly is filled with fragrance at the mention of her, and every tongue utters her name.
And if her seat were a valley (but her throne is a high mountain),
The low ground would be made high by her: he who looks enviously shall never attain to that height.
By her is every desert peopled, and by her is every mirage transformed to abundant water,
And by her is every meadow made bright, and by her is every wine made clear.
My night is radiant with her face, and my day is dark with her hair.
The core of my heart, when the Cleaver shot it through with her arrows,
Was cloven by eyes which are accustomed to aim at the entrails, and none of their shafts misses the mark.
No owl in desert places, no ring-dove or croaking raven
Is more unlucky than a full-grown camel which they saddled, that it might carry away one whose beauty is surpassing,
And might leave at Dhát al-Aḍá a passionate lover slain, although in love of them he is true.