Sirat Ibn Hisham 1457
The martyrs of the Muslims on the day of al-Ta'if
[ شِعْرُ بُجَيْرٍ فِي حُنَيْنٍ وَالطَّائِفِ ] فَلَمَّا انْصَرَفَ رَسُولُ اللَّهِ ﷺ عَنْ الطَّائِفِ بَعْدَ الْقِتَالِ وَالْحِصَارِ، قَالُ بُجَيْرُ بْنُ زُهَيْرِ بْنِ أَبِي سُلْمَى يَذْكُرُ حُنَيْنًا وَالطَّائِفَ: كَانَتْ عُلَالَةَ يَوْمَ بَطْنِ حُنَيْنٍ وَغَدَاةَ أَوْطَاسٍ وَيَوْمَ الْأَبْرَقِ جَمَعَتْ بِإِغْوَاءِ هَوَازِنُ جَمْعَهَا فَتَبَدَّدُوا كَالطَّائِرِ الْمُتَمَزِّقِ لَمْ يَمْنَعُوا مِنَّا مَقَامًا وَاحِدًا إلَّا جِدَارَهُمْ وَبَطْنَ الْخَنْدَقِ وَلَقَدْ تَعَرَّضْنَا لِكَيْمَا يَخْرُجُوا فَتَحَصَّنُوا مِنَّا بِبَابٍ مُغْلَقِ تَرْتَدُّ حَسْرَانًا إلَى رَجْرَاجَةٍ شَهْبَاءَ تَلْمَعُ بِالْمَنَايَا فَيْلَقِ مَلْمُومَةٍ خَضْرَاءَ لَوْ قَذَفُوا بِهَا حَضَنًا لَظَلَّ كَأَنَّهُ لَمْ يُخْلَقْ مَشْيَ الضِّرَاءِ عَلَى الْهَرَاسِ كَأَنَّنَا قُدْرٌ تَفَرَّقُ فِي الْقِيَادِ وَتَلْتَقِي فِي كُلِّ سَابِغَةٍ إذَا مَا اسْتَحْصَنَتْ كَالنِّهْيِ هَبَّتْ رِيحُهُ الْمُتَرَقْرِقِ جُدُلٌ تَمَسُّ، فُضُولُهُنَّ نِعَالَنَا مِنْ نَسْجِ دَاوُدٍ وَآلِ مُحَرِّقِ
Translation
✧ [Poem of Bujayr about Ḥunayn and al-Ṭāʾif] When the Messenger of God ﷺ turned away from al-Ṭāʾif after the fighting and the siege, Bujayr b. Zuhayr b. Abī Sulmā said, mentioning Ḥunayn and al-Ṭāʾif: It was ʿUlālah on the day of the hollow of Ḥunayn, and the morning of Awṭās, and the day of al-Abraq. Hawāzin gathered their host in misguidance, then they scattered like a bird torn apart. They did not keep from us a single standing place except their wall and the hollow of the trench. Indeed we exposed ourselves so that they might come out, but they fortified themselves from us behind a locked gate. You turn back disappointed to a quaking, grey mass, gleaming with deaths, a phalanx, compact and dark, such that if they hurled it at Ḥaḍan, it would remain as if it had never been created. The walking of fierce beasts over thorny ground; it is as if we were cooking-pots that scatter in the reins and meet again. In every ample coat of mail, when it is made impenetrable, like a pool whose rippling wind has stirred, well-twisted strands, whose trailing ends our sandals touch, of the weaving of David and the family of Muḥarriq.
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