أَنَا كَئِيبْ

أَنَا كَئِيبْ

أَنَا غَريبْ

أَنَا غَريبْ

I am melancholy.

I am melancholy,

I am a stranger.

I am a stranger,

كَآبتي خالَفَتْ نَظَائِرَهَا

كَآبتي خالَفَتْ نَظَائِرَهَا

غَرِيبَةٌ في عَوَالِمِ الحَزَن

غَرِيبَةٌ في عَوَالِمِ الحَزَن

My melancholy differs from its counterparts,

My melancholy differs from all others of its kind,

Alien in the worlds of sorrow.

A stranger in the realms of grief.

كَآبتي فِكْرَةٌ مُغَرِّدَةٌ

كَآبتي فِكْرَةٌ مُغَرِّدَةٌ

مَجْهُولةٌ مِنْ مَسَامِعِ الزَّمَنِ

مَجْهُولةٌ مِنْ مَسَامِعِ الزَّمَنِ

My melancholy is a singing thought,

My melancholy is a warbling thought,

Unknown to the ears of time.

Unknown to the ears of Time.

لكنَّني قَدْ سَمِعْتُ رَنَّتَها

لكنَّني قَدْ سَمِعْتُ رَنَّتَها

بمُهْجَتي في شَبابِيَ الثَّمِلِ

بمُهْجَتي في شَبابِيَ الثَّمِلِ

But I have heard its ringing

Yet I have heard its resonating tone

With my heart, in my intoxicated youth.

Deep in my spirit, in my drunken youth.

سَمِعْتُها فانْصَرَفْتُ مُكْتَئِبَا

سَمِعْتُها فانْصَرَفْتُ مُكْتَئِبَا

أَشْدو بحُزْنِي كطائِرِ الجَبَلِ

أَشْدو بحُزْنِي كطائِرِ الجَبَلِ

I heard it, then turned away, dejected,

I heard it, and I turned away in gloom,

Singing of my sorrow like a mountain bird.

Chanting my sorrow like a mountain bird.

سَمِعْتُها أَنَّةً يرجِّعُها

سَمِعْتُها أَنَّةً يرجِّعُها

صَوْتُ اللَّيالي ومُهْجَةُ الأزل

صَوْتُ اللَّيالي ومُهْجَةُ الأزل

I heard it as a moan echoed

I heard it as a moan echoed back

By the voice of the nights and the heart of beginningless eternity.

By the voice of nights and the soul of Eternity.

سَمِعْتُها صَرْخَةً مُضَعْضَعَةً

سَمِعْتُها صَرْخَةً مُضَعْضَعَةً

كَجَدْوَلٍ في مَضايِقِ السُّبُلِ

كَجَدْوَلٍ في مَضايِقِ السُّبُلِ

I heard it as a faltering cry,

I heard it as a shattered scream,

Like a brook in the paths' narrow passages.

Like a stream trapped in narrow paths.

سَمِعْتُها رَنَّةً يعَانِقُها

سَمِعْتُها رَنَّةً يعَانِقُها

شوقٌ إلى عالمٍ يُضَعْضِعُها

شوقٌ إلى عالمٍ يُضَعْضِعُها

I heard it as a ringing note embraced

I heard it as a chime embraced by

By longing for a world that shakes it,

A longing for a world that breaks it down;

ضَعيفةً مثلَ أنَّةٍ صَعَدَتْ

ضَعيفةً مثلَ أنَّةٍ صَعَدَتْ

مِنْ مُهْجَةٍ هدَّها تَوَجُّعُها

مِنْ مُهْجَةٍ هدَّها تَوَجُّعُها

Faint, like a moan that rose

Frail as a moan that has risen up

From a heart crushed by its anguish.

From a spirit crumbled by its pain.

كآبَةُ النَّاسِ شُعلةٌ وَمَتى

كآبَةُ النَّاسِ شُعلةٌ وَمَتى

مرَّتْ ليالٍ خَبَتْ مع الأَمَدِ

مرَّتْ ليالٍ خَبَتْ مع الأَمَدِ

People's melancholy is a flame, and when

The sadness of others is a flame, and when

Nights pass, it dies out with time.

Some nights have passed, it fades with time;

أَمَّا اكتِئابي فَلَوْعَةٌ سَكَنَتْ

أَمَّا اكتِئابي فَلَوْعَةٌ سَكَنَتْ

رُوحي وتَبْقَى بها إلى الأَبدِ

رُوحي وتَبْقَى بها إلى الأَبدِ

As for my despondency, it is a burning anguish that has settled

But my depression is an anguish that has dwelt

In my soul, and remains there forever.

Within my soul, remaining there forever.

أَنا كئيبٌ أَنا غَريبٌ

أَنا كئيبٌ أَنا غَريبٌ

وليسَ في عالمِ الكَآبَةِ مَنْ

وليسَ في عالمِ الكَآبَةِ مَنْ

I am melancholy; I am a stranger.

I am melancholy; I am a stranger,

And in the world of melancholy there is no one

And in the world of melancholy, there is no one

يحمِلُ مِعْشارَ بَعْضِ مَا أَجِدُ

يحمِلُ مِعْشارَ بَعْضِ مَا أَجِدُ

كآبتي مرَّةٌ وإنْ صَرَخَتْ

كآبتي مرَّةٌ وإنْ صَرَخَتْ

Who bears a tenth of a fraction of what I feel.

Who bears a tithe of what I endure.

My melancholy is bitter, and even if a cry is raised

My melancholy is bitter, and though

روحي فلا يسمعنَّها الجَسَدُ

روحي فلا يسمعنَّها الجَسَدُ

كآبَتي ذاتُ قَسْوَةٍ صَهَرَتْ

كآبَتي ذاتُ قَسْوَةٍ صَهَرَتْ

By my soul, the body will never hear it.

My soul screams out, the body does not hear.

My melancholy has a cruelty that has melted

My melancholy holds a cruelty that forged

مَشَاعِري في جَهَنَّمَ الأَلَمِ

مَشَاعِري في جَهَنَّمَ الأَلَمِ

لمْ يسمَعِ الدَّهْرُ مِثْلَ قَسْوَتِها

لمْ يسمَعِ الدَّهْرُ مِثْلَ قَسْوَتِها

My feelings in the hell of pain.

My feelings in the very hell of pain.

Time has not heard the like of its cruelty,

Time has never heard of such cruelty,

في يَقْظَةٍ قطُّ لا ولا حُلُمِ

في يَقْظَةٍ قطُّ لا ولا حُلُمِ

كآبتي شُعْلةٌ مؤجَّجَةٌ

كآبتي شُعْلةٌ مؤجَّجَةٌ

Ever while awake—no, nor in a dream.

In waking life, nor even in a dream.

My melancholy is a kindled flame;

My melancholy is a raging fire,

تحتَ رَمَادِ الكَوْنِ تستعرُ

تحتَ رَمَادِ الكَوْنِ تستعرُ

سَيَعْلَمُ الكَوْنُ مَا حَقِيقَتُهَا

سَيَعْلَمُ الكَوْنُ مَا حَقِيقَتُهَا

Beneath the ashes of the universe, it blazes.

Burning beneath the ashes of the universe.

The universe will know its true nature,

The cosmos shall perceive its true nature,

ويَطْلَعُ الفَجْرُ يومَ تَنْفَجِرَ

ويَطْلَعُ الفَجْرُ يومَ تَنْفَجِرَ

كآبةُ النَّاسِ شُعْلَةٌ ومتى

كآبةُ النَّاسِ شُعْلَةٌ ومتى

And dawn will rise on the day it explodes.

And dawn shall break the day that it explodes.

People's melancholy is a flame, and when

The sadness of others is a flame, and when

مرَّت ليالٍ خَبَتْ مِنَ الأَمَدِ

مرَّت ليالٍ خَبَتْ مِنَ الأَمَدِ

أَمَّا اكتئابي فَلَوْعَةٌ سَكَنَتْ

أَمَّا اكتئابي فَلَوْعَةٌ سَكَنَتْ

Nights pass, it dies out through the passage of time.

Some nights have passed, it fades with time;

As for my despondency, it is a burning anguish that has settled

But my depression is an anguish that has dwelt

رُوحي وَتَبْقَى بِها إلى الأَبَدِ

رُوحي وَتَبْقَى بِها إلى الأَبَدِ

In my soul, and remains there forever.

Within my soul, remaining there forever.