Tarafa Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCDDDECDF FBFFDFBCBF BFBFGBCBBFCBHADIJDAD FEKEAEBCBEFBBEABDABA BBFBDEEFLBBEDBCBAM FFAFBADBFDFEDFFFDDAB DFFDFDFMAFDCCDENCDDF DDFDEDFO| The tent lines these of Kh ula in stone stricken Th hmadi | A |
| See where the fire has touched them dyed dark as the hands of her | B |
| 'Twas here thy friends consoled thee that day with thee comforting | C |
| cried Not of grief thou faint heart Men die not thus easily | D |
| Ay here the howdahs passed thee at day dawn how royally | D |
| stood for the D di pastures a white fleet they seemed to thee | D |
| Ships tall rigged from Ad uli of Y min the build of them | E |
| wandering wide the night through to meet at the sunrising | C |
| Thus climbed they the long wave lines their prows set how loftily | D |
| ploughing the drifted ridges sand heaped by the sandseers | F |
| - | |
| Alas for the dark lipped one the maid of the topazes | F |
| hardly yet grown a woman sweet fruit picking loiterer | B |
| A girl a fawn still fawnless which browses the thorn bushes | F |
| close to the doe herd feeding aloof in the long valleys | F |
| I see her mouth slit smiling her teeth nay a camomile | D |
| white on the white sand blooming and moist with the night showers | F |
| Sun steeped it is pure argent white all but the lips of her | B |
| these are too darkly painted to shrink from the sunburning | C |
| The face of her how joyous the day's robe enfolding her | B |
| clean as a thing fresh fashioned untouched by sad time fingers | F |
| - | |
| Enough New joys now claim me Ay mount and away from her | B |
| Here on my swift foot camel I laugh at love's bitterness | F |
| Ship strong is she my n ga my stout timbered road goer | B |
| footing the long lined path way a striped cloak in front of us | F |
| Steel tempered are her sinews She runs like an ostrich hen | G |
| one which has fled defying the ash plumed proud lord of her | B |
| Out paces she the best born shank still on shank following | C |
| threading the mazes lightly Ah what foot shall follow her | B |
| The spring long on Kuff yn she has wandered her kind with her | B |
| pastured in pleasant places the rain watered thyme valleys | F |
| Has turned to her herd's calling aloft in wrath brandishing | C |
| scared by the thick furred red thief that proud tuft the tail of her | B |
| Her tail sways this and that way a falcon the wings of him | H |
| bating her flanks impatient erect stands the bone of it | A |
| So lasheth she in anger anon her croup rider's knee | D |
| then her own shrunken udder a drought withered water skin | I |
| Note well her limbs' perfection her thighs like the elbow worn | J |
| jambs of a city gateway two smooth shafts of porphyry | D |
| Her barrel a stone well mouth like bent bows the curves of it | A |
| caved where the neck shaft enters ends in an arched hollow | D |
| Deep dens are her two arm pits a tree trunk with cavities | F |
| Bows are her rib bones bended her spine the hands holding them | E |
| Her elbows are twin buckets the pails of a water man | K |
| wide set the neck between them the strong man who carries them | E |
| Bridge like and Roman builded How swore he its architect | A |
| none should leave work or loiter its key stone unlaid by them | E |
| Red chestnut is her chin tuft a vast vault the back of her | B |
| Swift step her hind feet follow the path of her fore footing | C |
| Her legs are a cord twisted Towards them the arms of her | B |
| slant from the shoulders outward a tent roof the slope of them | E |
| So sways she the strong skulled one and lightly her shoulder blades | F |
| rise from her spine alternate arhyme with the march of her | B |
| Like rain pools in the smooth rock so flecking the sides of her | B |
| white stand the girth marks witness once of the sores on them | E |
| Her neck how tall how proud set Behold her She raises it | A |
| high as in ships of D jleh the point of a stern rudder | B |
| Her head piece a stout anvil and joined to it hardily | D |
| sharp as a file the neck ridge fixed as a vice to it | A |
| Her jowl a Syrian parchment clean vellum the lip of her | B |
| smooth as a hide of Y men no skin crease nor fold in it | A |
| Her eyes two mirrors shining her bent brows the shade of them pitted with deep set hollows as rock holes for rain water | B |
| Eyes dark rimmed pure of dust stains You gaze in the depths of them as in a wild cow's wide eyes scared for the calf of her | B |
| Ears fearful of the night sounds the whispers the murmurings | F |
| caught in the darkness passing night day they can rest never | B |
| Their thorn tips tell her lineage a wild bull's of H umala | D |
| raging alone forsaken her breeding you read in them | E |
| Heart watchful of strange dangers yet stout in the face of them | E |
| Firm as a test stone standing where cleft lie the base pebbles | F |
| Lip slit nose pierced for nose ring how slender its cartilage | L |
| Nobly she lowers it running and stretched to the front of her | B |
| I strike at her my n ga I force her I hurry her | B |
| while in our path the false lights lure us to follow them | E |
| The gait of her how rhythmic She sways like a dancing girl | D |
| one with the white skirts trailing who bends to the lord of her | B |
| Obedient to your riding she slackens her outrunning | C |
| watches the hide thong twisted the speed that you need of her | B |
| Her head by your hand close held your knee crutch how near to it | A |
| Then with her fore arms swimming an ostrich she flies with you | M |
| - | |
| Thus rode I and thus spake he the friend of my tear sheddings | F |
| O for the wit to cure thee but and my own sorrows | F |
| His soul within him trembled it seemed to his hardihood | A |
| death and a sure destruction though far we from roadfarers | F |
| For which of us is valiant When men speak of true valour | B |
| I feel my own the name named Straight am I roused by it | A |
| No recreant I my tent ridge I hide from no enemy | D |
| Nor in the far hills build it who bring men a swift succour | B |
| The hand that seeks shall find me I stand at the gatherings | F |
| Ay where men tap the wine skin 'tis there they shall speak with me | D |
| What day the tribes assemble behold me conspicuous | F |
| sitting as fits my lineage nor go I in fear of them | E |
| Beside me my companions bright stars of nobility | D |
| Dyed is her robe with saffron the girl who pours out to us | F |
| O sweet is her shirt's neck slit set wide to the eyes of us | F |
| Soft is the thing it hides there We bade her Now sing to us | F |
| Ay sing to us we prayed her And she with monotony | D |
| striking a low note slowly chaunted unchangingly | D |
| O strange it was that cadence it came back the wail of it | A |
| grave as a mother's grieving the one son new slain from her | B |
| - | |
| Thus sang she And I spared not the full cups of revelry | D |
| not till my spoil was wasted my whole wealth's inheritance | F |
| Then left me they that loved me Then shunned me my tribe fellows | F |
| Sat I alone forsaken a mange stricken male camel | D |
| Nathless the poor showed pity the sons of Earth's particles | F |
| these and the alien tent lords the far chiefs befriended me | D |
| You only did revile me Yet say ye philosophers | F |
| was that same wealth eternal I squandered in feasting you | M |
| Could all you my fate hinder Friends run we ahead of it | A |
| rather our lives enjoying since Time will not wait for us | F |
| And truly but for three things in youth's day of vanity | D |
| fain would I see them round me the friends at my deathbedding | C |
| As first to outstrip the sour ones be first at the winebibbing | C |
| ay at the blink of day dawn when mixed the cup foams for me | D |
| And next to ride their champion who none have to succour them | E |
| fierce on my steed the led one a wolf roused and thirst stricken | N |
| And third to lie the day long while wild clouds are wildering | C |
| close in her tent of goat's hair the dearest beloved of me | D |
| O noble she a tree stem unpruned in her maidenhood | D |
| tall as a branch of Kh rwa where men hang their ornaments | F |
| 'Tis thus I slake my soul's rage the life thirst so wild in me | D |
| If we two died to morrow think which would go thirstier | D |
| For lo his grave the miser's Lo next it the prodigal's | F |
| Both are alike scant favour to hoarder or squanderer | D |
| 'Neath mounds of earth the twain lie a low stone atop of them | E |
| heavy and broad and shapeless with new slabs o'erlaying it | D |
| Death is no subtle chooser He takes all the free givers | F |
| ay and the rogues close fisted the fast handed goldhi | O |
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
(1)
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About Tarafa
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