أَطِرسُكَis this your page أَمor ثَغرٌa mouth تَبَسَّمَsmiled واضِحُbright
أَطِرسُكَ أَم ثَغرٌ تَبَسَّمَ واضِحُ
وَلَفظُكَand your wording أَمor رَوضٌa garden تَنَفَّسَbreathed نافِحُwafting fragrance
وَلَفظُكَ أَم رَوضٌ تَنَفَّسَ نافِحُ
Is this your page, or a bright, smiling mouth?
Your cheeks, are they a smile that beamed bright,
And is this your wording, or a garden breathing fragrance?
Or is your mouth a meadow that breathed fragrant?
لَوانِيَit swayed me لَيِّthe bending of الخَيزُرانَةِthe bamboo cane هِزَّةًa thrill
لَوانِيَ لَيِّ الخَيزُرانَةِ هِزَّةً
وَتَهفوand sway بِأَعطافِwith the sides of الكِرامِthe noble المَدائِحُpraises
وَتَهفو بِأَعطافِ الكِرامِ المَدائِحُ
It swayed me in delight, as a bamboo cane bends,
It swayed to me like the basil gently stirred,
And praises set the noble's sides swaying.
And it sang the praises of the generous souls sublime.
كَلامٌspeech يَرِفُّflutters النورُblossoms فيin جَنَباتِهِits reaches
كَلامٌ يَرِفُّ النورُ في جَنَباتِهِ
وَتَندىand grow dewy بِهِthrough it تَحتَbeneath الهَجيرِthe midday heat الجَوانِحُthe inward ribs
وَتَندى بِهِ تَحتَ الهَجيرِ الجَوانِحُ
Speech in whose reaches blossoms flutter,
A speech wherein the light flows through its veins,
And through it the inward ribs grow dewy beneath the midday heat.
And dew forms beneath the passionate sighs.
تُنَصَّلُare fitted with spearheads يَومَon the day of الرَوعِterror سُمرُbrown القَناlance-shafts بِهِwith it
تُنَصَّلُ يَومَ الرَوعِ سُمرُ القَنا بِهِ
وَتُطبَعُand are forged مِنهُfrom it لِلجِلادِfor combat الصَفائِحُsword blades
وَتُطبَعُ مِنهُ لِلجِلادِ الصَفائِحُ
On the day of terror, brown lance-shafts are tipped with it,
On days of bliss, it adorns the cheeks’ blush,
And from it sword blades are forged for combat.
And from it stamps are minted for the gallant knights.
يَشِفُّis transparent سَوادُthe blackness of النَقسِthe ink عَنهُrevealing it كَماjust as سَرىtraveled by night
يَشِفُّ سَوادُ النَقسِ عَنهُ كَما سَرى
وَراءَbehind الدُجىthe darkness بَرقٌlightning تَطَلَّعَrose into view لامِحُgleaming
وَراءَ الدُجى بَرقٌ تَطَلَّعَ لامِحُ
The ink's blackness lets it shine through, as there courses
Its darkness reveals the gloom, like flashes
Behind the darkness a flash of lightning, rising and gleaming.
Of lightning that gleamed behind the dusky night.
وَإِنّيand indeed I لَظَمآنٌsurely thirsty إِلَيهِfor it عَلاقَةًout of love
وَإِنّي لَظَمآنٌ إِلَيهِ عَلاقَةً
وَهاand behold أَناI فيin بَحرِthe sea of البَلاغَةِeloquence سابِحُswimming
وَها أَنا في بَحرِ البَلاغَةِ سابِحُ
And truly I thirst for it out of love,
And I, to it, am thirsty with fervent crave,
And here I am, swimming in the sea of eloquence.
I sent it to moisten like a cloud that rained,
بَعَثتُI sent بِهِwith it يَندىis dewy كَماjust as جادَgave rain generously عارِضٌa rain cloud
بَعَثتُ بِهِ يَندى كَما جادَ عارِضٌ
وَيُطرِبُنيand thrills me طَوراًat times كَماjust as حَنَّsang plaintively صادِحُa songbird
وَيُطرِبُني طَوراً كَما حَنَّ صادِحُ
I sent it forth, dewy as a cloud that gives rain,
And thrill me sometimes like a zealous chanter.
And at times it thrills me, as a songbird sings plaintively.
In the ink’s gloom, it flashes like a coin newly-minted,
تَلوحُgleams بِهِin it فيin دَهمَةِthe blackness of الحِبرِthe ink غُرَّةٌa white blaze
تَلوحُ بِهِ في دَهمَةِ الحِبرِ غُرَّةٌ
وَيَركُضُand races فيin خَوطِthe tender shoot of الفَصاحَةِeloquence سائِحُa flowing stream
وَيَركُضُ في خَوطِ الفَصاحَةِ سائِحُ
A white blaze gleams in it amid the ink's blackness,
And roams through the lines of linguistic mastery.
And a flowing stream races through eloquence's tender shoot.
If I fail to thank you while foreign is my abode,
فَإِنso if أَناI لَمdo not أَشكُركَthank you وَالدارُwhile the dwelling غُربَةٌis exile
فَإِن أَنا لَم أَشكُركَ وَالدارُ غُربَةٌ
فَلاthen may not جادَنيshower me with rain غادٍa morning passer مِنfrom among المُزنِthe rain clouds رائِحُan evening passer
فَلا جادَني غادٍ مِن المُزنِ رائِحُ
So if I do not thank you, while I dwell in exile,
Then no lavish liver provided me soothing fragrances,
Then may no rain cloud, passing morning or evening, shower me;
Nor did the horizons ever portend to me with it,
وَلاand may not اِستَشرَفَتrise to look out يَوماًever إِلَيَّtoward me بِهِwith it الرُبىthe hills
وَلا اِستَشرَفَت يَوماً إِلَيَّ بِهِ الرُبى
جَلالاًin splendor وَلاand may not هَشَّتwelcome gladly إِلَيَّtoward me الأَباطِحُthe gravelly flats
جَلالاً وَلا هَشَّت إِلَيَّ الأَباطِحُ
Nor may the hills ever rise toward me with it,
Glory, nor did the dunes ever allure me.
In splendor, nor may the gravelly flats greet me gladly.
Partial English translation: 19 of 20 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1