أَطْفِئْextinguish سُؤالَكَyour question ؛ موجُthe wave of الليلِnight مُعْتَكِرُmurky
أَطْفِئْ سُؤالَكَ ؛ موجُ الليلِ مُعْتَكِرُ
والفجرُand dawn مرتَهَنٌheld hostage ، والوقتُand time مُحْتَكَرُmonopolized!
والفجرُ مرتَهَنٌ ، والوقتُ مُحْتَكَرُ!
Extinguish your question; the wave of night is murky.
Silence your question; the night tide is brooding,
And dawn is held hostage, and time monopolized!
And dawn stands hostage, while time hoards all.
والريحُand the wind تشكوlaments،يطيرflies الشَّجْوُsorrow أَغْرِبَةًas ravens
والريحُ تشكو،يطير الشَّجْوُ أَغْرِبَةً
تطويfold الفضاءَspace،وسالَand flowed النجمُthe star والقَمَرُand the moon!
تطوي الفضاءَ،وسالَ النجمُ والقَمَرُ!
And the wind laments; sorrow flies as ravens
The wind laments, and longing takes flight,
folding space; the star and moon ran liquid!
Enveloping space, as stars fall and moonlight spills.
أَطْفِئْextinguish سُؤالَكَyour question؛ ماthere is no فيin الشكِّdoubt منany أُفُقٍhorizon
أَطْفِئْ سُؤالَكَ؛ ما في الشكِّ من أُفُقٍ
إلىtoward المسيرِjourneying،ولاnor فيin الظَّنِّconjecture مُخْتَبَرُa testing ground!
إلى المسيرِ،ولا في الظَّنِّ مُخْتَبَرُ!
Extinguish your question: in doubt there is no horizon
Silence your question; no horizons in doubt
toward journeying, nor in conjecture a testing ground!
Or trials to open the way forward; all vain imagination.
هذاthis المَواتُdeadness تنامَىgrew فيin محاجرناour eye sockets
هذا المَواتُ تنامَى في محاجرنا
حتىuntil تناهَىreached its end بناwith us فيin عُمْرِهِits lifespan العُمُرُlife's span!
حتى تناهَى بنا في عُمْرِهِ العُمُرُ!
This deadness grew within our eye sockets,
This barren wasteland matured in our bones
until, within its lifespan, our lifespan reached its end!
Till we were consumed by the sands of its years.
يَسْتَفُّswallows dry فيamid هبواتِdusty gusts of الصَّحْوِwakefulness قهوتَناour coffee
يَسْتَفُّ في هبواتِ الصَّحْوِ قهوتَنا
كماas يُسَفُّis swallowed بمتنِon the back of القَفْرَةِthe desert الأثَرُthe trace!
كما يُسَفُّ بمتنِ القَفْرَةِ الأثَرُ!
It swallows our coffee amid waking's dusty gusts,
It quaffs down our waking draughts of coffee
as a trace is swallowed upon the desert's back!
Like traces erased by the desert wind.
يَدُقُّhammers فيناwithin us عمودَthe pillar of البيتِthe house، منfrom يدناour hand
يَدُقُّ فينا عمودَ البيتِ، من يدنا
يبعثرُscatters الشمسَthe sun، والآماسَand yesterdays يَأتَسِرُtakes captive!
يبعثرُ الشمسَ، والآماسَ يَأتَسِرُ!
It hammers the house's pillar within us; from our hand
It beats in our hands the tent pegs, scattering
it scatters the sun and takes yesterdays captive!
Sunrays and stars in dismantling disarray.
أكلَّماis it that whenever اعشوشبَgrew grassy العُودُthe lute الحريرُsilken شَذًىfragrance
أكلَّما اعشوشبَ العُودُ الحريرُ شَذًى
فيin الأغنياتِsongs تداعتْcame crowding عندكَbefore you الذِّكَرُmemories؟!
في الأغنياتِ تداعتْ عندكَ الذِّكَرُ؟!
Whenever the silken lute grows grassy with fragrance
The silk-stringed lute sighing songs
in songs, do memories come crowding before you?!
Once recalled your memories, made you heed?
فاستعبرتْكَso they made you weep غضًاtender،يهميraining down الحروفَletters،علىupon
فاستعبرتْكَ غضًا،يهمي الحروفَ،على
جرحِthe wound of الغزالِthe gazelle ودربٍand a path خاذلٍtreacherous تَزِرُyou incur guilt!
جرحِ الغزالِ ودربٍ خاذلٍ تَزِرُ!
Then they draw tears from you, tender, raining letters upon
So it provoked you, rhymes tumbling,
the gazelle's wound and a treacherous path; you sin
On the wound of a doe, a faltering trail.
علىagainst النخيلِthe palms، تبكِّيmake weep كَفَّthe hand of غارسِهاtheir planter ،
على النخيلِ، تبكِّي كَفَّ غارسِها ،
تغرَّبَتْwandered abroad حِقَبًاfor ages، واجتثَّهاand uprooted them الصَّبِرُbitter aloe!
تغرَّبَتْ حِقَبًا، واجتثَّها الصَّبِرُ!
against the palms, which make their planter's hand weep;
The palms lament the hands that planted them,
they wandered abroad for ages, and bitter aloe uprooted them!
Long exiled, uprooted by time and patience.
ماwhat شَلَّparalyzed كفَّكَyour hand فيin أقصَىthe farthest of مغارسِهاits planting grounds
ما شَلَّ كفَّكَ في أقصَى مغارسِها
قدhas indeed شَلَّparalyzed قلبكَyour heart.. والدنياand the world هوًىdesire غِيَرُvicissitudes!
قد شَلَّ قلبكَ.. والدنيا هوًى غِيَرُ!
What paralyzed your hand in its farthest planting grounds
What numbed your hands on distant saplings
has paralyzed your heart; the world is desire and vicissitudes!
Had numbed your heart—for the world is but mirage!
ماذاwhat تريدُdo you want، ولونُand the color of الصِّدْقِtruth منخطفٌsnatched away
ماذا تريدُ، ولونُ الصِّدْقِ منخطفٌ
فيin ناظريكَyour eyes، ولونُand the color of الكِذْبِfalsehood مزدهِرُflourishing؟!
في ناظريكَ، ولونُ الكِذْبِ مزدهِرُ؟!
What do you want, with truth's color snatched away
What do you want? While the hue of truth pales
from your eyes, and falsehood's color flourishing?!
In your eyes, the colours of lies grow bright.
ماذاwhat تريدُdo you want، مزاجُthe blend of الحِبْرِink أسئلةٌquestions
ماذا تريدُ، مزاجُ الحِبْرِ أسئلةٌ
غَرْثَىfamished، وأجوبةٌand answers كالقَحْطِlike drought ينتشِرُspreading؟!
غَرْثَى، وأجوبةٌ كالقَحْطِ ينتشِرُ؟!
What do you want? The ink's blend is questions
What do you want? The ink's mood poses
famished, and answers like a spreading drought?!
Questions in drizzle, dry answers spread wide.
ماذاwhat تريدُdo you want، مزاجُthe blend of الحِبْرِink لاno لغةٌlanguage
ماذا تريدُ، مزاجُ الحِبْرِ لا لغةٌ
منfrom الحياةِlife، ولاnor دِيْمُsteady showers of الحَيَاlife-giving rain مطَرُrain؟!
من الحياةِ، ولا دِيْمُ الحَيَا مطَرُ؟!
What do you want? The ink's blend is no language
What do you want? The ink's mood is no language
from life, nor are the rain's gentle showers rain?!
Of life, no rain in seasons of drought.
ياO مَنْyou who إذاwhen أقرأتْكَmade you read الريحُthe wind يوسُفَهاher Yusuf
يا مَنْ إذا أقرأتْكَ الريحُ يوسُفَها
أطبقْتَyou closed فوقَover كتابِthe book of الصَّدرِthe breast تَدَّكِرُremembering!
أطبقْتَ فوقَ كتابِ الصَّدرِ تَدَّكِرُ!
O you who, when the wind made you read her Yusuf,
O you who when the wind recites her Joseph's shirt
closed over the book of the breast, remembering!
Seal the book of your heart to ponder the tear!
أطبقْتَyou closed فوقover شِفاهِthe lips of البئرِthe well تشربنيyou drink me؛
أطبقْتَ فوق شِفاهِ البئرِ تشربني؛
ماءُwater of الطَّوَايَاstone-lined wells دميmy blood ، يصفوclears ويَنْكَدِرُand grows turbid!
ماءُ الطَّوَايَا دمي ، يصفو ويَنْكَدِرُ!
You closed over the well's lips, drinking me;
Who drinks me at the mouth of the well—
the water of stone-lined wells is my blood, clearing and clouding!
My blood, filtering clear, then bitter again.
ماذاwhat تريدُdo you want، وكلُّand all الصافناتpoised steeds لهاthey have،
ماذا تريدُ، وكلُّ الصافنات لها،
منof نخوةِthe pride of الخيلِhorses، ماsomething ياO أنتَyou لاdo not تَفِرُflee؟!
من نخوةِ الخيلِ، ما يا أنتَ لا تَفِرُ؟!
What do you want, when all the poised steeds have
What do you want? Every steed of pedigree
something of horses' pride? O you, do not flee!
Has spirit you lack, do not fly or race!
أَمِطْremove قِناعَكَyour mask ثمّthen احْلُمْdream بماof what خَبَأَتْhave hidden
أَمِطْ قِناعَكَ ثمّ احْلُمْ بما خَبَأَتْ
لكَfor you العُذُوقُdate-clusters منof اللذاتِdelights تَبْتَدِرُyou hasten!
لكَ العُذُوقُ من اللذاتِ تَبْتَدِرُ!
Remove your mask, then dream of what has been hidden
Unmask yourself, then dream what the vines
for you by the date-clusters—delights you hasten toward!
Hide for you of pleasures to unfurl.
واقرأْand read قضاءَكَyour fate ياO منyou whose كلevery جارحةٍlimb
واقرأْ قضاءَكَ يا من كل جارحةٍ
فيكَin you استدارتْhave wheeled علىagainst ليلٍa night بهاin it الدُّسُرُship-nails!
فيكَ استدارتْ على ليلٍ بها الدُّسُرُ!
And read your fate, O you, in whose every limb
Read your fate, o you in whom each limb
the ship-nails have wheeled against a night!
Has turned against a night heavy with harm.
أنتَyou القضاءُكَyour fate ماnot نامتْslumbered لهُfor it مُثُلٌideals،
أنتَ القضاءُكَ ما نامتْ لهُ مُثُلٌ،
علىover التِّراتِvendettas ، ولاnor عَيَّتْfaltered بهِover it البُكَرُearly mornings!
على التِّراتِ ، ولا عَيَّتْ بهِ البُكَرُ!
You are your fate: no ideals have slumbered for it
You are your fate. None other like it has slept
over vendettas, nor have the early mornings faltered over it!
On tablets or mounted watches virgin.
كمhow often ذاthis تُطابعُcomply with فيكَwithin you الجُزْرُslaughter-beasts جَازِرَهاtheir butcher؟!
كم ذا تُطابعُ فيكَ الجُزْرُ جَازِرَها؟!
هلاَّwhy not تَطَابَعُagree with one another فيماin what is بينكَwithin you الجُزُرُthe islands؟!
هلاَّ تَطَابَعُ فيما بينكَ الجُزُرُ؟!
How often do the slaughter-beasts within you comply with their butcher?!
How do you mirror each other, killer and killed?
Why do the islands within you not agree with one another?!
Why don't islands in you coalesce and unite?
مسراكَyour night-journey يحملُcarries فيin تابوتِهِits coffin صُوَراًimages،
مسراكَ يحملُ في تابوتِهِ صُوَراً،
خُضْرَgreen with الهَوَىlove،عُرُبًاardently loving، ياO حبّذاhow lovely الصُّوَرُthe images!
خُضْرَ الهَوَى،عُرُبًا، يا حبّذا الصُّوَرُ!
Your night-journey bears within its coffin images,
None was cheaper to the world and its people
green with love, ardently loving—O, how lovely the images!
Than one made cheap, though holding earth and man!
تبكيكَthey weep for you فيin سِرِّهاtheir secrecy، حَيًّاalive ومَيِّتَةًand dead :
تبكيكَ في سِرِّها، حَيًّا ومَيِّتَةً :
عارٌshame عليكَupon you دميmy blood والسمعُand hearing والبَصَرُand sight!
عارٌ عليكَ دمي والسمعُ والبَصَرُ!
They weep for you in secret, you alive and they dead:
None who found rest on the saddle of time at noon
My blood, hearing and sight are a disgrace upon you!
Except those who marched while rest marched away.
روحُthe spirit of الشهيدِthe martyr تُرَىis seen غيداءَa graceful woman فاتنةًenchanting
روحُ الشهيدِ تُرَى غيداءَ فاتنةً
وروحُكَand your spirit السَّمْجُugly يبقَىremains فيكَwithin you ينْتَحِرُkills itself!
وروحُكَ السَّمْجُ يبقَى فيكَ ينْتَحِرُ!
The martyr's spirit is seen as a graceful enchantress,
Arabicize or garble it, for the lanterns
while your ugly spirit remains within you, killing itself!
Have all gone cold, no oil left, or sparks.
لاnot فيin الحياةlife يُعَدُّis counted، إنْif شَبَاarises خَبَرُnews
لا في الحياة يُعَدُّ، إنْ شَبَا خَبَرُ
علىon الشِّفاهِlips،ولاnor فيin الموتِdeath يُعْتَبَرُis reckoned!
على الشِّفاهِ،ولا في الموتِ يُعْتَبَرُ!
It is not counted among the living, should news arise
Neither can prose rouse from the dust,
upon the lips, nor is it reckoned among the dead!
Nor poetry's tears, the old bones and awe.
أعْجَزْتَyou rendered impossible وصْفَكَyour description:ماذاwhat أنتَyou فيon سَفَرٍa journey
أعْجَزْتَ وصْفَكَ:ماذا أنتَ في سَفَرٍ
تُبْنَىare built عليكَupon you لهُfor it منfrom عَظْمِكَyour bones الجُسُرُbridges؟!
تُبْنَى عليكَ لهُ من عَظْمِكَ الجُسُرُ؟!
You have defied description: what are you on a journey
Harness your tongue, or wield your pen, but no language
for which bridges are built upon you from your bones?!
Returns to its Bedouin candor before breaking apart.
وأنتَand you فيin شِيَةِthe markings of الثاوينَthose who stay منتفشًاpuffed up
وأنتَ في شِيَةِ الثاوينَ منتفشًا
نَفْشَthe fluffing of الحُبارَىthe bustard جَنَاحًاa wing هَدَّهُshattered it الذُّعُرُterror!
نَفْشَ الحُبارَى جَنَاحًا هَدَّهُ الذُّعُرُ!
And you, in the markings of those who stay, puffed up
Never look back: the cutting of ties is stone
like a bustard fluffing a wing shattered by terror!
That stones the tongue or pierces the sight.
إنْif صالattacks بازٌa hawk علىupon أُمِّthe mother of البُغَاثِweak birds ، نَزَاleaps
إنْ صال بازٌ على أُمِّ البُغَاثِ ، نَزَا
فرخُthe chick of البُغاثِweak birds علىupon الأفراخِthe chicks يَنْتَسِرُplays the eagle!
فرخُ البُغاثِ على الأفراخِ يَنْتَسِرُ!
If a hawk attacks the weak birds' mother, up leaps
Corner your steed—no shame to horses—for soon
a weak bird's chick onto other chicks, playing the eagle!
Comes your turn, and the butcher awaits.
أوor جارَoppresses رَبُّthe lord of الجِوَارِthe neighborhood الغَصْبِusurped فيin بَلَدٍa country،
أو جارَ رَبُّ الجِوَارِ الغَصْبِ في بَلَدٍ،
سَرَىgoes by night الهُمَامُthe gallant man علىagainst الجاراتِneighboring women يَثْتَئِرُseeks revenge!
سَرَى الهُمَامُ على الجاراتِ يَثْتَئِرُ!
Or if the lord of a usurped neighborhood tyrannizes in a country,
Yet—here is the cosmic revolt in my flesh,
the gallant man goes by night against the neighboring women, seeking revenge!
Rising, as walls collapse, how it wakes!
ماnot هانwas abased يومًاever علىbefore الدنياthe world وآهلِهاand its dweller
ما هان يومًا على الدنيا وآهلِها
كمنْlike one who يهونُis abased وفيهand within him الأرضُthe earth والبَشَرُand humankind!
كمنْ يهونُ وفيه الأرضُ والبَشَرُ!
No one was ever so abased before the world and its dweller
Is there not in you a dream that greets us,
as one abased with the earth and humankind within him!
Other than death, than elegy and sadness?
ولاnor استراحَrested علىin رَأْدِthe prime of الزمانِtime ضُحًىat morning
ولا استراحَ على رَأْدِ الزمانِ ضُحًى
منone who استراحَrested وسارتْand traveled دونهُwithout him السِّيَرُchronicles!
من استراحَ وسارتْ دونهُ السِّيَرُ!
Nor rested, at morning in time's prime,
In their weakest banners, all defeats
one who rested while the chronicles passed him by!
Are defeats of self, as thought revolved.
أعربْmake eloquent لهاتَكَyour uvula أوor أعْجِمْmake inarticulate، فقدfor indeed هرمتْhave grown old
أعربْ لهاتَكَ أو أعْجِمْ، فقد هرمتْ
كلُّall القناديلِlanterns، لاno زيتٌoil ولاnor شَرَرُsparks!
كلُّ القناديلِ، لا زيتٌ ولا شَرَرُ!
Make your uvula eloquent, or inarticulate; grown old are
What can you say? The ode is tired, no path
all the lanterns—no oil, no sparks!
Left to travel its span, no patience.
لاnot النثرُprose يَبْعَثُraises to life فيin الأجداثِgraves منتفضًاshaking free
لا النثرُ يَبْعَثُ في الأجداثِ منتفضًا
منfrom الترابdust، ولاnor ذاthis الشِّعْرُpoetry والعِبَرُand lessons!
من التراب، ولا ذا الشِّعْرُ والعِبَرُ!
Neither prose raises the dead in their graves, shaking free
This your speech in antique summer, how many
of the dust, nor this poetry and its lessons!
Sheaves of night gathered, husks filled with ashes!
عَمِّدْgive pillars to لسانكَyour tongue، أوor حَرِّرْliberate، فماso no لغةٌlanguage
عَمِّدْ لسانكَ، أو حَرِّرْ، فما لغةٌ
عادتْhave returned لهاto it شِيَمُthe virtues of الأعرابِthe Bedouins تَنكسِرُbreaks!
عادتْ لها شِيَمُ الأعرابِ تَنكسِرُ!
Give your tongue pillars, or set it free: no language
O guide of the caravan, this is our caravan, addled
to which the Bedouins' virtues have returned will shatter!
By circling the storms, wringing and writhing!
لاdo not تلتفتْturn back أبداًever؛ قِطْعُa stretch of السُّرَىnight-travel حَجَرٌa stone،
لا تلتفتْ أبداً؛ قِطْعُ السُّرَى حَجَرٌ،
يَحْصبْكَpelts you with stones منهُfrom it لسانٌa tongue، أوor يُصِبْstrikes نَظَرُa glance!
يَحْصبْكَ منهُ لسانٌ، أو يُصِبْ نَظَرُ!
Never turn back; a stretch of night-travel is a stone
O guide of the caravan—I cannot see, though I see
with which a tongue may pelt you, or a glance may strike!
In your voice the flute, afloat, then cascading!
حاصرْhem in حصانَكَyour horse،لاmay not هانbe abased الخيولُthe horses! غداًtomorrow
حاصرْ حصانَكَ،لا هان الخيولُ! غداً
يأتيكَcomes to you دورُكَyour turn ؛ فالجزّارُfor the butcher ينتظِرُis waiting!
يأتيكَ دورُكَ ؛ فالجزّارُ ينتظِرُ!
Hem in your horse—may the horses never be abased! Tomorrow
What can you say, I wonder: "The horizons are but foam,
your turn will come; the butcher is waiting!
The trail a smile, abundant rain pouring down?"
لكنَّbut..هاbehold ثورةُthe revolution of التكوينِcreation فيin جسديmy body،
لكنَّ..ها ثورةُ التكوينِ في جسدي،
كمhow often تستفيقُawakens، وتعلوand rise حولهاaround it السُّوَرُthe surahs!
كم تستفيقُ، وتعلو حولها السُّوَرُ!
But behold, the revolution of creation in my body—
What can I say: "The swords are blood,
how often it awakens, and surahs rise around it!
Honour a pearl, and the army victorious?"
أليسis there not منكَfrom you لناfor us حُلْمٌa dream يصافِحُناshakes our hands،
أليس منكَ لنا حُلْمٌ يصافِحُنا،
إلاّexcept الفَناءُextinction ، وإلاّand except النَّوْحُlamentation والكَدَرُand gloom؟!
إلاّ الفَناءُ ، وإلاّ النَّوْحُ والكَدَرُ؟!
Is there no dream from you for us that shakes our hands,
"The time will not come, and the butcher lies dying."
save extinction, save lamentation and gloom?!
But behind him, a thousand at my shoulders—
كُلُّall الهزائمِdefeats، فيunder أَوْهَىthe frailest of بيارقِهاtheir banners،
كُلُّ الهزائمِ، في أَوْهَى بيارقِها،
هزيمةُthe defeat of الذاتِthe self ، ماas long as دارتْrevolve بهاaround it الفِكَرُthoughts!
هزيمةُ الذاتِ ، ما دارتْ بها الفِكَرُ!
All defeats, beneath their frailest banners,
While we remain, the butcher has no deterrent!
are defeat of the self, as long as thoughts revolve around it!
Gather your scattered parts; the night's face broods darkly,
ماذاwhat تقولdo you say.. متىwhen؟.. مَلَّgrew weary القصيدُthe poem،وماand no
ماذا تقول.. متى؟.. مَلَّ القصيدُ،وما
عادany longer الطريقُthe road علىwith التَّسْيارِcontinual journeying يَصْطَبِرُpatiently endures!
عاد الطريقُ على التَّسْيارِ يَصْطَبِرُ!
What do you say—when? The poem is weary, and no
Dawn stands hostage, and time hoards all.
longer does the road endure the ceaseless journeying!
Read your fate, o you in whom each limb
هذاthis خطابُكَyour address فيin الصيفِthe summer العتيقِِage-old، لكَمْhow very often
هذا خطابُكَ في الصيفِ العتيقِِ، لكَمْ
صافتْspent the summer سنابلُthe ears of grain of ليلٍa night مِلْؤُهاtheir fill تَتَرُTatars!
صافتْ سنابلُ ليلٍ مِلْؤُها تَتَرُ!
This is your speech in the age-old summer: how often
Has turned against a dawn heavy with harm.
night's ears of grain have summered, filled with Tatars!
None was cheaper to the world and its people
ياO حاديَdriver-chanter of العِيْسِpale camels..هذيthese عِيْسُناour pale camels بَلِيَتْare worn out
يا حاديَ العِيْسِ..هذي عِيْسُنا بَلِيَتْ
منfrom الدُّوَارِdizziness علىagainst الأَعْصَارِthe ages تعتصرُwring themselves out!
من الدُّوَارِ على الأَعْصَارِ تعتصرُ!
O driver of pale camels, these camels of ours are worn out
Than one made cheap, though holding earth and man.
from dizziness, wringing themselves against the ages!
Arise, catch yourself—O youth—blaze your trail. Arise!
ياO حاديَdriver-chanter of العِيْسِpale camels..إنِّيindeed I لاdo not أَرَىsee!،وأَرَىand I see
يا حاديَ العِيْسِ..إنِّي لا أَرَى!،وأَرَى
فيin صوتكَyour voice الآلَthe mirage، يَطْفُوfloats ثمّthen يَنْحَدِرُdescends!
في صوتكَ الآلَ، يَطْفُو ثمّ يَنْحَدِرُ!
O driver of pale camels, I cannot see! Yet I see
The bend of years burns with fervor of longing.
in your voice a mirage, floating up, then descending!
Arise, catch yourself. Legends of visions have fused
ماذاwhat تقولdo you say تُرَىI wonder : "إنّindeed المَدَىthe distance زَبَدٌfoam،
ماذا تقول تُرَى : "إنّ المَدَى زَبَدٌ،
والدربُand the path مبتسمٌsmiling، والغيثُand rain مُنهمِرُpouring down؟!"
والدربُ مبتسمٌ، والغيثُ مُنهمِرُ؟!"
What do you say, I wonder: "The distance is foam,
With blood rivalry: swell and be turbulent!
the path is smiling, and the rain pours down?!"
Arise, o rebel! Take out your steps, and say:
ماذاwhat أقولُdo I say أَنَاI : " إنّindeed السيوفَswords دمٌblood،
ماذا أقولُ أَنَا : " إنّ السيوفَ دمٌ،
والعِرْضُand honor لؤلؤةٌa pearl،والجيشُand the army منتصرُvictorious؟!"
والعِرْضُ لؤلؤةٌ،والجيشُ منتصرُ؟!"
What do I say: "The swords are blood,
"Before this blackness, the sea and the voyage!"
honor is a pearl, and the army is victorious?!"
O Cordova lost to future days—I came tomorrow
ماذاwhat أقولُdo I say هناhere ، إنْif شئتَyou wish قلتُI would say إذنthen :
ماذا أقولُ هنا ، إنْ شئتَ قلتُ إذن :
"لنwill not يأتيَcome الدَّوْرُthe turn والجزّارُand the butcher يحتضرُis dying" ..
"لن يأتيَ الدَّوْرُ والجزّارُ يحتضرُ" ..
What do I say here? If you wish, then I would say:
And did not find you; I will come when love regains sight.
"The turn will not come; the butcher is dying."
O Aqsa mosque: peace has come near;
لكنَّbut منfrom خلفهِbehind him أَلْفًاa thousand علىupon كَتِفيmy shoulder ؛
لكنَّ من خلفهِ أَلْفًا على كَتِفي ؛
ماas long as دُمْتَyou remain نحنُwe فماthen no للجزرِfor slaughter مزدجَرُdeterrent!
ما دُمْتَ نحنُ فما للجزرِ مزدجَرُ!
But behind him are a thousand upon my shoulder;
So enter, upon you Allah's peace, O Omar!
so long as you are we, nothing restrains the slaughter!
لَمْلِمْgather up شتاتكَyour scattered fragments؛ وجهُthe face of الليلِnight معتكِرُmurky،
لَمْلِمْ شتاتكَ؛ وجهُ الليلِ معتكِرُ،
والصُّبْحُand morning مُرْتَهَنٌheld hostage،والوقتُand time مُحْتَكَرُmonopolized!
والصُّبْحُ مُرْتَهَنٌ،والوقتُ مُحْتَكَرُ!
Gather your scattered fragments: night's face is murky,
morning is held hostage, and time monopolized!
واقرأْand read قضاءَكَyour fate ياO مَنْyou whose كلُّevery جارحةٍlimb
واقرأْ قضاءَكَ يا مَنْ كلُّ جارحةٍ
فيكin you استطارتْhave soared علىagainst فجرٍa dawn بهاin it الدُّسُرُship-nails!
فيك استطارتْ على فجرٍ بها الدُّسُرُ!
And read your fate, O you, in whose every limb
the ship-nails have soared against a dawn!
قدindeed هانwas abased جِدًّاutterly علىbefore الدنياthe world آهلهاits dweller
قد هان جِدًّا على الدنيا آهلها
منone who هانwas abased يومًاone day وفيهand within him الأرضُthe earth والبَشَرُand humankind!
من هان يومًا وفيه الأرضُ والبَشَرُ!
Indeed, its dweller is utterly abased before the world—
one once abased, with earth and humankind within him!
قُمْrise فالتقطْكَthen pick yourself up ،فتًىas a young man، واضربْand strike سبيلَكَyour path. قُمْrise!
قُمْ فالتقطْكَ ،فتًى، واضربْ سبيلَكَ. قُمْ!
نَوْءُthe storm of السِّنينthe years بنَوْضِwith the flash of الشَّوْقِlonging يَسْتَعِرُblazes!
نَوْءُ السِّنين بنَوْضِ الشَّوْقِ يَسْتَعِرُ!
Rise, pick yourself up as a young man, and strike your path. Rise!
The years' storm blazes with longing's flash!
قُمْrise فالتقطْكَthen pick yourself up؛ أساطيرthe myths of الرؤىvisions التحمتْhave fused
قُمْ فالتقطْكَ؛ أساطير الرؤى التحمتْ
بنافِرِwith the surging الدَّمِblood: تَرْفُوْهُthey mend it ويَشْتَجِرُand it tangles!
بنافِرِ الدَّمِ: تَرْفُوْهُ ويَشْتَجِرُ!
Rise, pick yourself up; the myths of visions have fused
with the surging blood: they mend it, and it tangles!
قُمْrise،أيهاO الماردُthe giant،استخرجْdraw forth خُطاكَyour footsteps،وقلْand say:
قُمْ،أيها الماردُ،استخرجْ خُطاكَ،وقلْ:
"فيin وجهِthe face of هذاthis السوادِblackness البحرُthe sea والسَّفَرُand the journey!"
"في وجهِ هذا السوادِ البحرُ والسَّفَرُ!"
Rise, O giant; draw forth your footsteps and say:
"In the face of this blackness: the sea and the journey!"
ياO قُرْطُبياتCordoban women of ماwhat يأتيis to come ، أَتَيْتُI came غَداًtomorrow،
يا قُرْطُبيات ما يأتي ، أَتَيْتُ غَداً،
ولمand did not أَجِدْكِfind you، سآتيْI shall come والهَوَىand love بَصَرُsight!
ولم أَجِدْكِ، سآتيْ والهَوَى بَصَرُ!
O Cordoban women of what is to come, I came tomorrow,
and did not find you; I shall come, and love is sight!
ياO أيهاyou المسجدُthe mosque الأقصَىthe farthest: السلامُpeace دَنَاdrew near؛
يا أيها المسجدُ الأقصَى: السلامُ دَنَا؛
فادخلْso enter، عليكَupon you سلامُthe peace of اللهGod، ياO عُمَرُUmar!
فادخلْ، عليكَ سلامُ الله، يا عُمَرُ!
O al-Aqsa Mosque: peace has drawn near;
enter, then—God's peace be upon you, O Umar!
Partial English translation: 91 of 108 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1