وَأَروَعَand a splendid man أَمجَدَmost noble قَرَّظَتهُI extolled him
وَأَروَعَ أَمجَدَ قَرَّظَتهُ
وَبيضُand white اللَآليpearls لِبيضِfor white النُحورِnecks
وَبيضُ اللَآلي لِبيضِ النُحورِ
And a splendid, most noble man I extolled;
His eloquence's brilliance outshone
and white pearls are for white necks.
the full moons' radiant light.
وَشَعشَعَتِand mellowed الخَمرُthe wine أَخلاقَهُhis manners
وَشَعشَعَتِ الخَمرُ أَخلاقَهُ
فَأَطلَعَهاso he brought them forth غُرَراًradiant brows لِلبُدورِfor the full moons
فَأَطلَعَها غُرَراً لِلبُدورِ
And wine mellowed his manners,
Wine illuminated his character -
so he brought them forth as radiant brows for the full moons.
pearls flashing forth from shells.
وَهاتيكَand those yonder آدابُهُhis literary accomplishments لُجَّةٌa deep sea
وَهاتيكَ آدابُهُ لُجَّةٌ
فَمَنso who ليfor me زَخَرَتit surged بِالعُبورِwith the crossing
فَمَن لي زَخَرَت بِالعُبورِ
And those literary accomplishments of his are a deep sea;
His manners cut like sharpened swords.
so who will help me cross it, now that it surges?
Who can pass through this dense thicket?
وَماand not أَرغَتِfoamed الكَأسُthe cup فيin كَفِّهِhis palm
وَما أَرغَتِ الكَأسُ في كَفِّهِ
وَلَكِنَّهاand yet it ضَحِكَتlaughed عَنfrom سُرورِjoy
وَلَكِنَّها ضَحِكَت عَن سُرورِ
And the cup did not foam in his palm,
His cup was never noisy in his hand,
but it laughed for joy.
but laughing with delight.
إِذاwhen ماجَرىever runs فَوقَover قُرطاسِهِhis paper
إِذا ماجَرى فَوقَ قُرطاسِهِ
يَراعٌa reed pen جَرىflows حِبرُهُhis ink بِالحُبورِwith joy
يَراعٌ جَرى حِبرُهُ بِالحُبورِ
Whenever over his paper runs
When inspiration flowed across his page
a reed pen, his ink flows with joy.
wild deer racing with ink of gold.
فَنَلثُمُso we kiss أَوضاعَthe compositions تِلكَthose الرِقاعِsheets
فَنَلثُمُ أَوضاعَ تِلكَ الرِقاعِ
وَلُعسَand dusky مَراشِفِlips تِلكَthose السُطورِlines
وَلُعسَ مَراشِفِ تِلكَ السُطورِ
So we kiss the compositions on those sheets,
We kiss the form of those leaves
and the dusky lips of those lines.
and cuddle the lines of that prose.
فَهَلso is نِقسُهُhis ink مِنfrom سَوادِthe blackness اللَمىthe dark tint of lips
فَهَل نِقسُهُ مِن سَوادِ اللَمى
وَمُهرَقَهُand his writing-sheet مِنfrom بَياضِthe whiteness الثُغورِteeth
وَمُهرَقَهُ مِن بَياضِ الثُغورِ
So is his ink from the blackness of dusky lips,
Can we save him from dark blame
and his paper from the whiteness of teeth?
or rescue his whiteness from ruin?
Sol 6.1