Ode XLVII: Are they of Asma's folk, these

Are they of Asma's folk, these vanishing traces of tents, where the birds leave prints of their feet on the surface, desolate, void ?

Therein dwelt my thoughts on Asma — would that her abode were near ! but hindrances have come between us and block my way.

Many the strait resting-place, not a spot I desired for a night's lodging, [have I occupied,] making myself at home there perforce through stress of fear,

That mine eye might see her abode if once she would look on me, while in my soul, even if the way was free, were forebodings of ill.

[I came thither,] travelling fast, now slackening, now hastening, until the pale-coloured camels were worn out, while their leader was without sure knowledge of the way.

And many the echoing desert, full of dust, long untraversed by man, through which the company of thirsting camels press at top speed, while the riders sit drowsily on their backs,

Have I passed through, making from its unknown wastes to parts known, mounted on a she-camel strong and bold, that goes along deliberately, while about us is pitch-dark night.

Therein have I left behind a long length of the night, and a halting-place where a fire was kindled which no one visited to take fire therefrom.

There mightst thou hear about us the cries of the owls, like the sound of wooden clappers beaten in the stillness of night ;

And the place where my camel's saddle was cast, where she rested through the latter night, over it the creeping things of the darkness had crept.

In the morning she was like a swing, of which unwedded girls had attached the ropes to branches of trees, in that [fearsome] place.

When we lighted the fire to roast our meat, there came to us a wolf, ashen in colour, in evil case ;

I flung to him a slice of our roast, ashamed [to send him empty away] : I like not discourtesy towards one with whom I sit at meat ;

And he turned and went away with it, glad at heart, shaking his head, as returns home with spoil a stout fighter steadfast in battle.

And the way-marks appeared at our sides as though the heads thereof were the heads of mountains plunged in a great watery gulf :

When I left behind one cairn built to mark the way, there appeared another, grey and dun in the midst of the sun-mist.

I pressed my camel to her last reserves : I mean not that I drew her last milk — to what end seeking for milk when the udder is dry ? —

With a tawny [whip], the end of it bare of the plaited strips of leather with which the rest (i.e. the handle) is covered, dangling by the loop from which it hangs.