يَاO إِخْوَتِيmy brothers الشُّهَدَاءَthe martyrs ذَاكَthat سَلامُa greeting of peace
يَا إِخْوَتِي الشُّهَدَاءَ ذَاكَ سَلامُ
إِنَّindeed الْحَيَاةَlife بِفَقْدِكُمْat your loss آلامُpains
إِنَّ الْحَيَاةَ بِفَقْدِكُمْ آلامُ
O my brothers, the martyrs—that is a greeting of peace.
Oh my martyred brothers, peace be upon you,
Indeed, life is pain at the loss of you.
Without you, life is full of sorrows.
أَنْتُمْyou نَصَرْتُمْchampioned دِينَthe faith of رَبِّيmy Lord فِيamong الْوَرَىhumankind
أَنْتُمْ نَصَرْتُمْ دِينَ رَبِّي فِي الْوَرَى
حِينَwhen التَّذَلُّلُabasement وَالْخُنُوعُand submission يُرَامُis sought
حِينَ التَّذَلُّلُ وَالْخُنُوعُ يُرَامُ
You championed my Lord's faith among humankind,
You supported the religion of my Lord in this world,
When abasement and submission were sought.
When humility and submission were sought.
أَنْتُمْyou أَبَيْتُمْrefused أَنْto تَعِيشُواlive فِيin الرَّدَىruin
أَنْتُمْ أَبَيْتُمْ أَنْ تَعِيشُوا فِي الرَّدَى
وَلَغَيْرُكُمْand indeed others than you عَشِقَloved passionately الْحَيَاةَlife يُضَامُis oppressed
وَلَغَيْرُكُمْ عَشِقَ الْحَيَاةَ يُضَامُ
You refused to live in ruin,
You refused to live in degradation,
Yet others, enamored of life, suffer oppression.
While others craved life out of greed.
حَشَفٌshriveled dates يَضَنُّis stingy بِهِwith it الْعِبَادُpeople وَأَنْتُمُand you
حَشَفٌ يَضَنُّ بِهِ الْعِبَادُ وَأَنْتُمُ
مُزْنٌrainclouds وَهَلْand has ...? أَعْطَىgiven الدِّمَاءَblood غَمَامُa cloud
مُزْنٌ وَهَلْ أَعْطَى الدِّمَاءَ غَمَامُ
Shriveled dates that people are loath to give, while you are
You are the pride of the devoted,
Rainclouds—but has a cloud ever given blood?
While the weak-willed are blamed.
دَمُكُمْyour blood لأَحْرَارِfor the free people of الْحَيَاةِlife مَفَاخِرٌsources of pride
دَمُكُمْ لأَحْرَارِ الْحَيَاةِ مَفَاخِرٌ
وَمِنَand by الْقُعُودِthose who sit idle الْوَاهِنِينَthe feeble يُلامُis reproached
وَمِنَ الْقُعُودِ الْوَاهِنِينَ يُلامُ
Your blood is a source of pride for the free in this life,
You became the epics of a weeping nation,
Yet it is reproached by the feeble who sit idle.
And its tears are like its dreams.
صِرْتُمْyou became مَلاحِمَepics أُمَّةٍof a nation تَبْكِيweeps الدِّمَاblood
صِرْتُمْ مَلاحِمَ أُمَّةٍ تَبْكِي الدِّمَا
وَدُمُوعُهَاand its tears كَنَصِيرِهَاlike its champion أَحْلامُdreams
وَدُمُوعُهَا كَنَصِيرِهَا أَحْلامُ
You have become the epics of a nation that weeps blood,
You became the ideals of the religion, proud
And its tears, like its champion, are dreams.
After the aggressors dominated the frontiers for ages.
صِرْتُمْyou became أَثَالَnoble roots of الدِّينِthe faith يَفْخَرُtakes pride بَعْدَمَاafter
صِرْتُمْ أَثَالَ الدِّينِ يَفْخَرُ بَعْدَمَا
ظَلَّremained الْقُرُونَfor centuries عَلَىat الثُّغُورِthe frontier posts طَغَامُrabble
ظَلَّ الْقُرُونَ عَلَى الثُّغُورِ طَغَامُ
You have become the faith's noble roots; it takes pride after
Whoever believes in the Merciful, He will believe him, and
Rabble had remained for centuries at the frontier posts.
The blood speaks, and the blood has words.
مَنْwhoever يَصْدُقِis true to الرَّحْمَنَthe Most Merciful يَصْدُقْهُHe is true to him وَذَاand this
مَنْ يَصْدُقِ الرَّحْمَنَ يَصْدُقْهُ وَذَا
خَبَرُthe message of الدِّمَاءِblood وَلِلدِّمَاءِand blood has كَلامُspeech
خَبَرُ الدِّمَاءِ وَلِلدِّمَاءِ كَلامُ
Whoever is true to the Most Merciful, He is true to him; and this
Do they illuminate the night of the despairing with hopes?
Is the message of blood, and blood has speech.
The night complains tearfully, where are the loved ones
هَذِيthese قُبُورٌgraves لاno النُّجُومُthe stars مُشِعَّةٌradiant
هَذِي قُبُورٌ لا النُّجُومُ مُشِعَّةٌ
أَيُضِيءُdoes ... illuminate? لَيْلَthe night of الْيَائِسِينَthe despairing رِجَامُheaps of stones
أَيُضِيءُ لَيْلَ الْيَائِسِينَ رِجَامُ
These are graves—no, radiant stars!
Filled with light, bowing and standing in prayers?
Can heaps of stones light the night of the despairing?
A light and warmth from tears, oh how
اللَّيْلُthe night يَشْكُوcomplains بَاكِيًاweeping أَيْنَwhere الأُلَىthose who
اللَّيْلُ يَشْكُو بَاكِيًا أَيْنَ الأُلَى
مَلأُونِfilled me نُورًاlight سُجَّدًاprostrating وَقِيَامُand standing in prayer
مَلأُونِ نُورًا سُجَّدًا وَقِيَامُ
The night complains, weeping: where are those
Are they the fires of an afflicted one, or the coals of a dove?
Who filled me with light, prostrate and standing in prayer?
The sun burns with sorrow like a mother who
نُورًاlight وَدِفْئًاand warmth مِنْfrom دُمُوعٍtears يَاoh لَهَاfor them
نُورًا وَدِفْئًا مِنْ دُمُوعٍ يَا لَهَا
أَنُسُورُare they eagles? بَاسٍvalor أَمْor أُلاكَthose حَمَامُdoves
أَنُسُورُ بَاسٍ أَمْ أُلاكَ حَمَامُ
With light and warmth from tears—oh, those tears!
Slaughtered her infant with her own darkness.
Are they eagles of valor, or are those doves?
Where are those whose meeting and farewell
وَالشَّمْسُand the sun تَحْتَرِقُburns الأَسَىgrief كَالأُمِّlike a mother قَدْalready
وَالشَّمْسُ تَحْتَرِقُ الأَسَى كَالأُمِّ قَدْ
ذَبَحَslaughtered الرَّضِيعَthe infant بِحِجْرِهَاin her lap الظُّلاَّمُthe oppressors
ذَبَحَ الرَّضِيعَ بِحِجْرِهَا الظُّلاَّمُ
And the sun burns with grief, like a mother whose
Added with remembrance so much to existence?
Infant the oppressors have slaughtered in her lap.
I am like them, the light of life, and I wish
أَيْنَwhere الَّذِينَthose whose لِقَاؤُهُمْtheir meeting وَوَدَاعُهُمْand their parting
أَيْنَ الَّذِينَ لِقَاؤُهُمْ وَوَدَاعُهُمْ
بِالذِّكْرِwith remembrance كَمْhow much زِيدَwas added الْوُجُودَexistence ظَلامُdarkness
بِالذِّكْرِ كَمْ زِيدَ الْوُجُودَ ظَلامُ
Where are those whose meetings and partings
I were with them, so darkness remains for the world.
Were marked by remembrance? How much darkness has been added to existence!
If not for the remaining believers I love,
أَنَاI مِثْلُهُمْlike them نُورُthe light of الْحَيَاةِlife وَلَيْتَنِيand would that I
أَنَا مِثْلُهُمْ نُورُ الْحَيَاةِ وَلَيْتَنِي
مَعَهُمْwith them فَيَبْقَىso there remains لِلْوَرَىfor humankind الإِعْتَامُdarkness
مَعَهُمْ فَيَبْقَى لِلْوَرَى الإِعْتَامُ
I, like them, am life's light; would that I were
I would wish my light to be extinguished.
With them, leaving humankind in darkness!
And the earth grieves, not content, as if
لَوْلاwere it not for بَقِيَّةُa remnant of مُؤْمِنِينَbelievers أُحِبُّهُمْI love them
لَوْلا بَقِيَّةُ مُؤْمِنِينَ أُحِبُّهُمْ
لَوَدِدْتُI would indeed wish أَنَّthat أَشِعَّتِيmy rays أَضْرَامُflames
لَوَدِدْتُ أَنَّ أَشِعَّتِي أَضْرَامُ
Were it not for the remaining believers whom I love,
It regrettably lost its beauty to illnesses.
I would wish my rays were flames.
What saddens me? Did my worries weigh me down?
وَالأَرْضُand the earth تَحْزَنُgrieves لاdoes not تَقَرُّrest كَأَنَّهَاas though she
وَالأَرْضُ تَحْزَنُ لا تَقَرُّ كَأَنَّهَا
عَذْرَاa maiden أَضَاعَتْruined حُسْنَهَاher beauty الأَسْقَامُillnesses
عَذْرَا أَضَاعَتْ حُسْنَهَا الأَسْقَامُ
And the earth grieves and cannot rest, as though she were
Or did my miseries and flags leave me?
A maiden whose beauty sickness has ruined.
Where are those whose bowing and prostration
مَاذَاwhat دَهَانِيhas befallen me هَلْhave ...? هُمُومِيmy sorrows أُثْقِلَتْwere made heavier
مَاذَا دَهَانِي هَلْ هُمُومِي أُثْقِلَتْ
أَوْor زَالَvanished عَنِّيfrom me وَيْلَتِيalas for me الأَعْلامُthe eminent ones
أَوْ زَالَ عَنِّي وَيْلَتِي الأَعْلامُ
What has befallen me? Have my sorrows been made heavier,
Gave my soul life in which I found comfort?
Or have the eminent ones left me? Alas for me!
Where are the loved ones walking gently, never hasty?
أَيْنَwhere الَّذِينَthose whose رُكُوعُهُمْtheir bowing وَسُجُودُهُمْand their prostration
أَيْنَ الَّذِينَ رُكُوعُهُمْ وَسُجُودُهُمْ
يُعْطِينِgives me رَوْحًاrelief لِيfor me بِهِthrough it اسْتِرْحَامُa plea for mercy
يُعْطِينِ رَوْحًا لِي بِهِ اسْتِرْحَامُ
Where are those whose bowing and prostration
Oh, how I wish I were an annihilation to their enemy!
Give me relief, through which I seek mercy?
The universe bid you farewell, grieving, tearful,
أَيْنَwhere الأُلَىthose who يَمْشُونَwalk هَوْنًاhumbly مَاwhat جَرَىhappened
أَيْنَ الأُلَى يَمْشُونَ هَوْنًا مَا جَرَى
يَاoh لَيْتَنِيwould that I لِعَدُوِّهِمْfor their enemy أَلْغَامُmines
يَا لَيْتَنِي لِعَدُوِّهِمْ أَلْغَامُ
Where are those who walk humbly? What has happened?
In a scene - oh, how I wish I were a painter!
Oh, would that I were mines for their enemy!
My heart overflows with yearning and my poem
الْكَوْنُthe universe وَدَّعَكُمْbade you farewell حَزِينًاsad دَامِعًاtearful
الْكَوْنُ وَدَّعَكُمْ حَزِينًا دَامِعًا
فِيin مَشْهَدٍa scene يَاoh لَيْتَنِيwould that I رَسَّامُa painter
فِي مَشْهَدٍ يَا لَيْتَنِي رَسَّامُ
The universe bade you farewell, grieving and tearful,
Wrote an elegy from which harmony flows.
In a scene—oh, would that I were a painter!
If not for martyrdom, I would have elegyed you,
قَلْبِيmy heart يَفِيضُoverflows تَشَوُّقًاwith longing وَيَرَاعَتِيand my pen
قَلْبِي يَفِيضُ تَشَوُّقًا وَيَرَاعَتِي
كَتَبَتْwrote قَرِيضًاverse فَاضَoverflowed مِنْهُfrom it وِئَامُharmony
كَتَبَتْ قَرِيضًا فَاضَ مِنْهُ وِئَامُ
My heart overflows with longing, and my pen
A rock, and who is a rock?! I would then be blamed.
Has written verse from which harmony overflowed.
Should I cry for myself or rejoice in your
لَوْلاwere it not for الشَّهَادَةُmartyrdom قَدْalready رَثَيْتُكُمُI mourned you رِثَاa lament
لَوْلا الشَّهَادَةُ قَدْ رَثَيْتُكُمُ رِثَا
صَخْرٍSakhr، وَمَنْand who صَخْرٌSakhr؟! إِذَنْthen سَأُلامُI will be blamed
صَخْرٍ، وَمَنْ صَخْرٌ؟! إِذَنْ سَأُلامُ
Were it not for martyrdom, I would have mourned you with a lament for
Martyrdom, a favor from your Lord?
Sakhr—but who is Sakhr? Then I would be blamed.
Why don't I live in my memory with you, so
هَلْshall ...? نَفْسِmyself أَبْكِيI weep أَوْor أُسَرُّI rejoice لِفَوْزِكُمْat your triumph
هَلْ نَفْسِ أَبْكِي أَوْ أُسَرُّ لِفَوْزِكُمْ
بِشَهَادَةٍin martyrdom مِنْfrom رَبِّكُمْyour Lord إِنْعَامُa blessing
بِشَهَادَةٍ مِنْ رَبِّكُمْ إِنْعَامُ
Shall I weep for myself, or rejoice at your triumph
Wounds do not torment the heart - that is the purpose.
In martyrdom, a blessing from your Lord?
Or am I deprived of a specter in the darkness
هَلاَّwhy not أَعِيشُI live بِخَاطِرِيin my thoughts مَعَكُمْwith you فَلاso that no
هَلاَّ أَعِيشُ بِخَاطِرِي مَعَكُمْ فَلا
تُدْمِيmake bleed الْجِرَاحُthe wounds الْقَلْبَthe heart ذَاكَthat مَرَامُa wish
تُدْمِي الْجِرَاحُ الْقَلْبَ ذَاكَ مَرَامُ
Why not live with you in my thoughts, so that
That would console my wounds? Do I have dreams?
Wounds do not make the heart bleed? That is my wish.
A specter and dreams are enough wealth for my determination.
أَمْor أَنَّنِيthat I مَحْرُومُdeprived of طَيْفٍa vision بِالدُّجَىin the darkness
أَمْ أَنَّنِي مَحْرُومُ طَيْفٍ بِالدُّجَى
يُؤْسِيheals جِرَاحِيmy wounds هَلْare there ...? لِيَfor me الأَحْلامُdreams
يُؤْسِي جِرَاحِي هَلْ لِيَ الأَحْلامُ
Or am I denied a vision in the darkness
Perhaps with you I may have an abode.
That heals my wounds? Are there dreams for me?
طَيْفٌa vision وَأَحْلامٌand dreams غِنًىriches لِعَزِيمَتِيfor my resolve
طَيْفٌ وَأَحْلامٌ غِنًى لِعَزِيمَتِي
فَلَعَلَّso perhaps لِيfor me مَعَكُمْwith you يَكُونُthere will be مُقَامُan abode
فَلَعَلَّ لِي مَعَكُمْ يَكُونُ مُقَامُ
A vision and dreams are riches for my resolve,
So perhaps I shall have an abode with you.
Partial English translation: 49 of 52 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1