أَيُّهاO الحُبُّlove أنتَyou سِرُّthe secret of بَلائِيmy affliction
أَيُّها الحُبُّ أنتَ سِرُّ بَلائِي
وهُمُوميand my worries وَرَوْعَتيand my terror وعَنَائيand my toil
وهُمُومي وَرَوْعَتي وعَنَائي
O love, you are the secret of my affliction,
O love, you are the secret of my affliction,
O Love, you are the secret of my plight,
and my worries, my terror, and my toil,
My worries, my fear, and my toil,
My heavy cares, my terror, and my blight,
ونُحُوليand my wasting وأَدْمُعيand my tears وعَذَابيand my torment
ونُحُولي وأَدْمُعي وعَذَابي
وسُقَاميand my sickness وَلَوْعَتيand my anguish وشَقَائيand my misery
وسُقَامي وَلَوْعَتي وشَقَائي
and my wasting, my tears, and my torment,
My sorrow, my tears, my torment,
My wasting form, my tears, and agony,
and my sickness, my anguish, and my misery.
My illness, my agony, and my misery.
My malady, my burning love, my misery.
أَيُّهاO الحُبُّlove أَنتَyou سِرُّthe secret of وُجُوديmy existence
أَيُّها الحُبُّ أَنتَ سِرُّ وُجُودي
وحَيَاتيand my life وعِزَّتيand my dignity وإبَائيand my defiance
وحَيَاتي وعِزَّتي وإبَائي
O love, you are the secret of my existence,
O love, you are the secret of my being,
O Love, you are the secret of my breath,
and my life, my dignity, and my defiance,
My life, my honor, and my refusal,
My very life, my dignity, and pride in death,
وشُعاعِيand my ray of light ماlinking particle بينَamid دَيْجُورِthe pitch-darkness of دَهْريmy lifetime
وشُعاعِي ما بينَ دَيْجُورِ دَهْري
وأَليفيand my companion وقُرَّتيand my solace وَرَجَائيand my hope
وأَليفي وقُرَّتي وَرَجَائي
and my ray of light amid my lifetime's pitch-darkness,
My ray between the darkness of my time,
My beam of light amidst the age's gloom,
and my companion, my solace, and my hope.
My friend, my comfort, and my hope.
My close companion, hope, and joy in bloom.
ياO سُلافَpure wine of الفُؤادِthe heart ياO سُمَّpoison of نَفْسيmy soul
يا سُلافَ الفُؤادِ يا سُمَّ نَفْسي
فيin حَيَاتيmy life ياO شِدَّتيmy hardship ياO رَخَائيmy ease
في حَيَاتي يا شِدَّتي يا رَخَائي
O pure wine of the heart, O poison of my soul
O solace of the heart, O poison of my soul,
O vintage of the heart, O soul’s sweet bane,
in my life, O my hardship, O my ease!
In my life, O my power, O my relief,
Throughout my life, my comfort and my pain.
أَلَهيبٌa flame? يثورُrises فيin روضَةِthe garden of النَّفْسِthe soul
أَلَهيبٌ يثورُ في روضَةِ النَّفْسِ
فَيَطْغىthen runs rampant أَمْor أَنتَyou نُورُthe light of السَّماءِheaven
فَيَطْغى أَمْ أَنتَ نُورُ السَّماءِ
Are you a flame that rises in the soul's garden
Is it a raging fire in the garden of the soul
Are you a flame that storms the soul’s domain,
and runs rampant, or are you the light of heaven?
That overflows, or are you the light of the sky?
To overwhelm? Or light from Heaven’s plane?
أَيُّهاO الحُبُّlove قَدْindeed جَرَعْتُI have drunk بِكَthrough you الحُزْsorrow (first part)
أَيُّها الحُبُّ قَدْ جَرَعْتُ بِكَ الحُزْ
نَsorrow (remaining part) كُؤُوساًcupfuls وماand not اقْتَنَصْتُI captured ابْتِغَائيwhat I sought
نَ كُؤُوساً وما اقْتَنَصْتُ ابْتِغَائي
O love, through you I have drunk sor-
O love, I have drunk cups of sadness because of you
O Love, through you I’ve quaffed the cup of grief,
row by the cupful, yet never captured what I sought.
And gained nothing I sought,
In endless draughts, yet found no true relief.
فبِحَقِّso by the right of الجَمَالbeauty ياO أَيُّهاO الحُlove (first part)
فبِحَقِّ الجَمَال يا أَيُّها الحُ
بُّlove (remaining part) حَنَانَيْكَyour mercy, I beg بيon me وَهَوِّنand ease بَلائيmy affliction
بُّ حَنَانَيْكَ بي وَهَوِّن بَلائي
So, by beauty's right, O lo-
So by the right of beauty, O love,
By Beauty’s right, O Love, I pray to thee,
ve, grant me your mercy, and ease my affliction.
Be kind to me and lighten my affliction.
Have mercy now, and ease this plague on me.
لَيْتَwould that شِعْرِيmy knowledge ياO أَيُّهاO الحُبُّlove قُلْtell ليme
لَيْتَ شِعْرِي يا أَيُّها الحُبُّ قُلْ لي
مِنْfrom ظَلامٍdarkness خُلِقَتwere you created أَمْor منfrom ضِياءِlight
مِنْ ظَلامٍ خُلِقَت أَمْ من ضِياءِ
Would that I knew, O love—tell me:
I wish I knew, O love, tell me,
I wish to know, O Love, speak truth to me:
were you created from darkness or from light?
Was I created from darkness or light?
Were you created of dark or radiant degree?
يَاO شِعْرُpoetry أَنْتَyou فَمُthe mouth of الشُّعُورِfeeling
يَا شِعْرُ أَنْتَ فَمُ الشُّعُورِ
وصَرْخَةُand the cry of الرُّوحِthe spirit الكَئيبْsorrowful
وصَرْخَةُ الرُّوحِ الكَئيبْ
O poetry, you are the mouth of feeling
O poetry, you are the mouth of feelings
O Poetry, you are the voice of feeling,
and the cry of the sorrowful spirit.
And the scream of the sorrowful soul.
The cry the melancholic soul sends pealing.
يَاO شِعْرُpoetry أَنْتَyou صَدَىthe echo of نحيبِsobbing
يَا شِعْرُ أَنْتَ صَدَى نحيبِ
القَلْبِthe heart والصَّبِّand the lovelorn one الغَرِيبْestranged
القَلْبِ والصَّبِّ الغَرِيبْ
O poetry, you are the echo of the sobbing of
O poetry, you are the echo of the crying heart
O Poetry, you are the echo of the wail
the heart and the lovelorn stranger.
And the strange pouring of pain.
Of the heart, and the stranger's lovelorn tale.
يَاO شِعْرُpoetry أَنْتَyou مَدَامعٌtears
يَا شِعْرُ أَنْتَ مَدَامعٌ
عَلِقَتْclung بأَهْدَابِto the eyelashes of الحَيَاةْlife
عَلِقَتْ بأَهْدَابِ الحَيَاةْ
O poetry, you are tears
O poetry, you are tears
O Poetry, you are the tears that cling
clinging to the eyelashes of life.
That clung to the eyelids of life.
To Life’s long lashes, softly shimmering.
يَاO شِعْرُpoetry أَنْتَyou دَمٌblood
يَا شِعْرُ أَنْتَ دَمٌ
تَفَجَّرَburst forth مِنْfrom كُلُومِthe wounds of الكائِناتِbeings
تَفَجَّرَ مِنْ كُلُومِ الكائِناتِ
O poetry, you are blood
O poetry, you are blood
O Poetry, you are the blood that flows,
bursting from the wounds of beings.
That burst out of the wounds of existence.
Bursting from every wound creation knows.
يَاO شِعْرُpoetry قَلْبيmy heart مِثْلماjust as
يَا شِعْرُ قَلْبي مِثْلما
تدريyou know شَقِيٌّwretched مُظْلَمُdark
تدري شَقِيٌّ مُظْلَمُ
O poetry, my heart, as
O poetry, my heart, as you know, is miserable,
O Poetry, my heart, as well you know,
you know, is wretched and dark.
In it are bleeding wounds that drip blood
Is miserable and dark with hidden woe.
فِيهِin it الجِراحُthe wounds النُّجْلُgaping يَقْطُرُdrips
فِيهِ الجِراحُ النُّجْلُ يَقْطُرُ
مِنْfrom مَغَاوِرِهاtheir caverns الدَّمُblood
مِنْ مَغَاوِرِها الدَّمُ
Within it are gaping wounds, and dripping
From their caves.
Within it, gaping wounds forever bleed,
from their caverns is blood.
The bread of bitter life froze on its lips,
Dripping their crimson from the depths of need.
جَمَدَتْhave congealed علىon شَفَتَيهِits two lips
جَمَدَتْ على شَفَتَيهِ
أَرْزاءُthe calamities of الحَياةِlife العَابِسهْgrim-faced
أَرْزاءُ الحَياةِ العَابِسهْ
Upon its lips have congealed
So it is the miserable one that melts it
Upon its lips have frozen, cold and stark,
the calamities of grim-faced life.
With the wailing of miserable hearts.
The tragedies of Life, frowning and dark.
فهوَso it is التَّعيسُthe wretched one يُذيبُهُmelts it
فهوَ التَّعيسُ يُذيبُهُ
نَوْحُthe lament of القُلُوبِthe hearts البَائِسَهْmiserable
نَوْحُ القُلُوبِ البَائِسَهْ
It is the wretched one, melted by
It always wails painfully
It is the wretch whom misery dissolves,
the lament of miserable hearts.
Among hollow wishes,
As round the wailing hearts it still revolves.
أبداًforever يَنوحُlaments بحُرْقَةٍwith burning anguish
أبداً يَنوحُ بحُرْقَةٍ
بَيْنَamong الأَمانيthe hopes الهَاوِيهْfallen
بَيْنَ الأَماني الهَاوِيهْ
Forever it laments in burning anguish
Like a warbling nightingale
Forever wailing with a burning fire,
among fallen hopes,
Among withering flowers.
Amidst the hopes that tumble and expire.
كالبُلْبُلِlike the nightingale الغِرِّيدِmelodious ماlinking particle
كالبُلْبُلِ الغِرِّيدِ ما
بَيْنَamid الزُّهورِthe flowers الذَّاوِيهْwithering
بَيْنَ الزُّهورِ الذَّاوِيهْ
like the singing nightingale
I wished it would be comforted and consoled it abundantly,
Like the warbling nightingale that sings,
among the withering flowers.
But it refused and did not heed my words, so I was of no use.
Among the flowers with their withering wings.
كمْhow often قَدْindeed نَضَحْتُI sprinkled لهُfor it بأنْso that
كمْ قَدْ نَضَحْتُ لهُ بأنْ
يَسْلوit finds solace وكَمْand how often عَزَّيْتُهُI consoled it
يَسْلو وكَمْ عَزَّيْتُهُ
How often I have sprinkled for it, so that
I said, have patience, O heart,
How often I have counseled it to find
it may find solace; how often I have consoled it.
Do not cease your crying,
Some peace, and tried to soothe its troubled mind.
فأَبىbut it refused وماand did not أصغَىlisten إلىto
فأَبى وما أصغَى إلى
قَوْليmy words فماso not أجْديتُهُI benefited it
قَوْلي فما أجْديتُهُ
But it refused, and did not listen to
For when life dons endurance,
But it refused, and would not hear my plea,
my words; so I brought it no relief.
The flames of passion vanish.
My words were vain and brought no remedy.
كَمْhow often قلتُI said صبراًpatience ياO فُؤادُheart
كَمْ قلتُ صبراً يا فُؤادُ
أَلاwill you not تَكُفُّcease عنِfrom النَّحِيبْsobbing
أَلا تَكُفُّ عنِ النَّحِيبْ
How often I said: Patience, O heart!
O heart, do not despair before
How often said I: "Patience, O my heart!
Will you not cease your sobbing?
The stubbornness of the merciless time,
Will you not cease this wailing and depart?
فإذاfor when تَجَلَّدَتِsteeled itself الحِياةُlife
فإذا تَجَلَّدَتِ الحِياةُ
تبدَّدَتْdispersed شُعَلُthe flames of اللَّهيبْthe blaze
تبدَّدَتْ شُعَلُ اللَّهيبْ
For when life steels itself,
For if you cry out in pain,
For if Life steels itself with visage stern,
the flames of the blaze disperse.
The ages will mock your scream.
The flames of passion shall no longer burn."
يَاO قَلْبُheart لاdo not تجزعْpanic أمامَbefore
يَا قَلْبُ لا تجزعْ أمامَ
تَصَلُّبِthe rigidity of الدَّهرِtime الهَصُورْcrushing
تَصَلُّبِ الدَّهرِ الهَصُورْ
O heart, do not panic before
O heart, do not be angry at the days,
O Heart, do not despair or shrink in fear
the rigidity of crushing time.
For the beautiful flower
Before the crushing Fate that draws near.
فإذاfor if صَرَخْتَyou cry out توجُّعاًin pain
فإذا صَرَخْتَ توجُّعاً
هَزَأَتْmocked بصَرْخَتِكَat your cry الدُّهُورْthe ages
هَزَأَتْ بصَرْخَتِكَ الدُّهُورْ
For if you cry out in pain,
Hears the clamor of storms
For if you cry aloud in agony,
the ages mock your cry.
Before the melodies of spring.
The Ages will but mock your misery.
يَاO قَلْبُheart لاdo not تَسْخُطْrage علىagainst
يَا قَلْبُ لا تَسْخُطْ على
الأيَّامِthe days فالزَّهْرُfor the flowers البَديعْlovely
الأيَّامِ فالزَّهْرُ البَديعْ
O heart, do not rage against
O heart, do not be content with the thorns of despair
O Heart, do not resent the passing days,
the days, for the lovely flowers
Among the flowers,
For the fair flower, in its blooming ways,
يُصْغيlistens لضَجَّاتِto the uproar of العَوَاصِفِthe storms
يُصْغي لضَجَّاتِ العَوَاصِفِ
قَبْلَbefore أَنغامِthe melodies of الرَّبيعْspring
قَبْلَ أَنغامِ الرَّبيعْ
listen to the uproar of storms
For beyond the pains of life
Must listen to the storm’s tumultuous roar
before the melodies of spring.
Is the sweetness of daring hope.
Before the songs of Spring can sing once more.
يَاO قَلْبُheart لاdo not تَقْنَعْbe content بشَوْكِwith the thorns of
يَا قَلْبُ لا تَقْنَعْ بشَوْكِ
اليَأْسِdespair مِنْfrom بينِamong الزُّهُورْthe flowers
اليَأْسِ مِنْ بينِ الزُّهُورْ
O heart, do not content yourself with the thorns of
O heart, do not shed your tears
O Heart, accept not thorns of dark despair
despair amid the flowers.
Into the sky, lest you regret,
That hide amidst the blossoms fresh and fair.
فَوَراءَfor beyond أَوْجاعِthe pains of الحَياةِlife
فَوَراءَ أَوْجاعِ الحَياةِ
عُذُوبَةُthe sweetness of الأَملِhope الجَسُورْbold
عُذُوبَةُ الأَملِ الجَسُورْ
For beyond the pains of life
For on the smiles of space
For there, behind the sorrows of this strife,
lies the sweetness of bold hope.
Is the harshness of the sarcastic.
Lies the sweetness of a bold and hopeful life.
يَاO قَلْبُheart لاdo not تَسْكُبْpour out دُمُوعكَyour tears
يَا قَلْبُ لا تَسْكُبْ دُمُوعكَ
بالفَضَاءِinto the open air فَتَنْدَمِand then regret
بالفَضَاءِ فَتَنْدَمِ
O heart, do not pour your tears
But my heart, while its sides
O Heart, pour not your tears into the void,
into the open air, lest you regret it.
Are dripping with tears,
Lest you regret the solace you destroyed.
فعَلَىfor upon ابتساماتِthe smiles of الفَضَاءِthe open air
فعَلَى ابتساماتِ الفَضَاءِ
قَسَاوَةُthe cruelty of المُتَهَكِّمِthe mocker
قَسَاوَةُ المُتَهَكِّمِ
For upon the smiles of the open air lies
Sorrows have raged in it
For on the smiling face of Space there lies
the cruelty of a mocker.
When those cracks overflowed.
The cruelty of the mocker in disguise.
لكِنَّbut قَلْبيmy heart وهوَwhile it
لكِنَّ قَلْبي وهوَ
مُخْضَلُّdrenched الجوانبِthe sides بالدُّمُوعْwith tears
مُخْضَلُّ الجوانبِ بالدُّمُوعْ
But my heart, while
It weeps for the distant dream
But ah, my heart, bedewed on every side,
its sides were drenched in tears,
With unrelenting agony,
With tears that flow in an unceasing tide,
جَاشَتْsurged بهِwithin it الأَحْزانُsorrows إذْas
جَاشَتْ بهِ الأَحْزانُ إذْ
طَفَحَتْoverflowed بِهاwith them تِلْكَthose الصُّدوعْfissures
طَفَحَتْ بِها تِلْكَ الصُّدوعْ
seethed with sorrows, as
Warbling like the telephone bells
Is stirred by sorrows that within it steep,
those fissures overflowed with them.
In the sky, saying to me:
As fissures overflow because they weep.
يَبْكيweeps علىover الحُلْمِthe dream البَعيدِdistant
يَبْكي على الحُلْمِ البَعيدِ
بلَوْعَةٍwith anguish لاnot تَنْجَليclears away
بلَوْعَةٍ لا تَنْجَلي
It weeps over the distant dream
Purify your sorrows with tears
It weeps upon the dream so far away,
with anguish that never clears,
Empty them and pave their way,
With burning grief that clouds the brightest day.
غَرِداًsinging كَصَدَّاحِlike the songster of الهَوَاتِفِthe calling birds
غَرِداً كَصَدَّاحِ الهَوَاتِفِ
فيin الفَلاthe wilderness ويَقُولand says ليto me
في الفَلا ويَقُول لي
singing like the sweetest of calling birds
For tears do not go to waste,
Singing like birds that call across the sand,
in the wilderness, and says to me:
Be they small or grand.
In trackless wilds, it gives me this command:
طَهِّرْcleanse كُلُومَكَyour wounds بالدُّمُوعwith tears
طَهِّرْ كُلُومَكَ بالدُّمُوع
وخَلِّهاand let them go وسَبِيلَهَاand their way
وخَلِّها وسَبِيلَهَا
Cleanse your wounds with tears,
For among the tears are those that rushed out
"Cleanse thou thy wounds with tears that freely flow,
and let them take their course.
Sweeping away the husk of life,
And let them run their course, and let them go.
إنَّindeed المَدامِعَtears لاnot تَضِيعُare wasted
إنَّ المَدامِعَ لا تَضِيعُ
حَقيرَهَاtheir humble ones وجَليلَهَاand their great ones
حَقيرَهَا وجَليلَهَا
Indeed, tears are never wasted,
Throwing to the abyss of existence
For tears are never lost, nor shed in vain,
the humble ones or the great.
All that tyrants build.
Whether they fall in silence or in pain.
فَمِنَfor among المَدَامِعِtears ماthose that تَدَفَّعَsurge forth
فَمِنَ المَدَامِعِ ما تَدَفَّعَ
جارِفاًsweeping away حَسَكَthe thorns of الحَياهْlife
جارِفاً حَسَكَ الحَياهْ
For some tears surge forth,
And among the tears are those that shone
For some tears rush like torrents, fierce and strong,
sweeping away life's thorns,
In the darkness like stars,
Sweeping the thorns of life amidst the throng,
يرْمِيhurls لِهاوِيَةِinto the abyss of الوُجُودِexistence
يرْمِي لِهاوِيَةِ الوُجُودِ
بكلِّwith all ماthat يبنيbuild الطُّغاهْthe tyrants
بكلِّ ما يبني الطُّغاهْ
hurling into the abyss of existence
And among the tears are those that rested
Casting into the void’s abyssal deep
all that tyrants build.
The soul from the burden of worries.
The towers that the tyrants build and keep.
ومنَand among المَدَامِعِtears ماthose that تأَلَّقَshine
ومنَ المَدَامِعِ ما تأَلَّقَ
فيin الغَيَاهِبِthe deep darkness كالنُّجُومْlike stars
في الغَيَاهِبِ كالنُّجُومْ
And some tears shine
So have mercy on its misery and console it
And some tears sparkle in the gloom of night,
in the darkness like stars.
For its beautiful dream
Like stars that guide us with their gentle light.
ومنَand among المَدَامِعِtears ماthose that أَراحَrelieved
ومنَ المَدَامِعِ ما أَراحَ
النَّفْسَthe soul مِنْfrom عبءِthe burden of الهُمُومْworries
النَّفْسَ مِنْ عبءِ الهُمُومْ
And some tears relieve
Has ended its burning sorrows.
And some tears bring the weary soul release,
the soul of the burden of cares.
O poetry, O inspiration of existence,
Unburdening the heavy load for peace.
فارْحَمْso pity تَعَاسَتَهُits misery ونُحْand lament
فارْحَمْ تَعَاسَتَهُ ونُحْ
مَعَهُwith it علىover أَحْلامِهِits dreams
مَعَهُ على أَحْلامِهِ
So pity its misery, and lament
O language of angels,
So pity its despair, and join its cry,
with it over its dreams.
Sing for my days cry
And mourn its shattered dreams that ruined lie.
فلَقَدْfor indeed قَضَىhas perished الحُلْمُthe dream البَديعُbeautiful
فلَقَدْ قَضَى الحُلْمُ البَديعُ
عَلىupon لَظَىthe blaze of آلامِهِits pains
عَلى لَظَى آلامِهِ
For the beautiful dream has indeed perished
To the rhythm of your flute.
For the exquisite dream has met its end,
upon the blaze of its pains.
Echo to the slumber
Upon the flames of pain that round it bend."
يَاO شِعْرُpoetry ياO وحْيَrevelation of الوُجودexistence
يَا شِعْرُ يا وحْيَ الوُجود
الحيِّliving ياO لُغَةَthe language of المَلايِكْangels
الحيِّ يا لُغَةَ المَلايِكْ
O poetry, O revelation of existence
The moans of my fading heart,
O Poetry, life's inspiration true,
that lives, O language of angels,
And pour in the eyelids of flowers
The living breath, the tongue the angels knew.
غَرِّدْsing فأَيَّاميfor my days أناI تبْكِيweep
غَرِّدْ فأَيَّامي أنا تبْكِي
عَلىto إيقَاعِthe rhythm of نايكْyour reed flute
عَلى إيقَاعِ نايكْ
sing, for my own days weep
The tears of my bleeding heart,
Sing out! For all my days are weeping now,
to the rhythm of your reed flute.
Perhaps the heart of night
To the sad rhythm that your flutes allow.
رَدِّدْrepeat علىto سَمْعِthe hearing of الدُّجَىdarkness
رَدِّدْ على سَمْعِ الدُّجَى
أَنَّاتِthe moans of قَلْبيmy heart الواهِيَهْfeeble
أَنَّاتِ قَلْبي الواهِيَهْ
Repeat within the hearing of darkness
Will have more mercy on crying hearts,
Repeat unto the hearing of the Night
my heart's feeble moans,
And perhaps the eyelid of the flower
My frail heart’s moans, its sorrow and its fright.
واسْكُبْand pour بأَجْفانِonto the eyelids of الزُّهورِthe flowers
واسْكُبْ بأَجْفانِ الزُّهورِ
دُمُوعَthe tears of قلبيmy heart الدَّاميهْbleeding
دُمُوعَ قلبي الدَّاميهْ
and pour upon the eyelids of flowers
Will keep flowing tears.
And pour into the eyelids of the rose
my heart's bleeding tears.
How the hand of sorrow stirred
My bleeding heart’s red tears and repose.
فلَعَلَّfor perhaps قَلْبَthe heart of اللَّيلnight
فلَعَلَّ قَلْبَ اللَّيل
أَرْحَمُmore merciful بالقُلُوبِto the hearts البَاكيهْweeping
أَرْحَمُ بالقُلُوبِ البَاكيهْ
For perhaps the heart of night
The strings of your singing,
Perchance the Heart of Night may kinder be
is more merciful to weeping hearts.
So my sorrows wavered
To weeping hearts, and show some charity.
ولَعَلَّand perhaps جَفْنَthe eyelid of الزهرِthe flower
ولَعَلَّ جَفْنَ الزهرِ
أَحْفَظُmore protective للدُّمُوعِof the tears الجَاريهْflowing
أَحْفَظُ للدُّمُوعِ الجَاريهْ
And perhaps the eyelid of the flower
In the tunes of your moan.
Perchance the flower’s lid will keep and save
better preserves the flowing tears.
How I have shed my tears
The flowing tears that seek a quiet grave.
كمْhow often حَرَّكَتْmoved كفُّthe hand of الأَسىsorrow
كمْ حَرَّكَتْ كفُّ الأَسى
أَوْتارَthe strings of ذَيَّاكَthat الحَنينْlonging
أَوْتارَ ذَيَّاكَ الحَنينْ
How often the hand of sorrow has plucked
Until the eyelids were ulcerated,
How often Sorrow’s hand has struck the strings
the strings of that longing,
Then I turned and found no heart
Of that deep longing which the memory brings.
فَتَهَامَلَتْso streamed أَحْزانُthe sorrows of قلبيmy heart
فَتَهَامَلَتْ أَحْزانُ قلبي
فيin أَغاريدِthe songs of الأَنِينْmoaning
في أَغاريدِ الأَنِينْ
and my heart's sorrows have streamed
That shared my passion with me.
So that my heart’s griefs poured in disarray,
in songs of moaning.
Perhaps the night will have more mercy
Amidst the songs of moaning and dismay.
فَلَكَمْfor how often أَرَقْتُI poured out مَدَامِعِيmy tears
فَلَكَمْ أَرَقْتُ مَدَامِعِي
حتَّىuntil تَقَرَّحَتِbecame ulcerated الجُفُونْthe eyelids
حتَّى تَقَرَّحَتِ الجُفُونْ
How often I have poured out my tears
For it, like me, complains,
How many tears I shed, how deep the flow,
until my eyelids grew ulcerated.
And perhaps the flower will protect my tear
Until my eyelids sore and wounded grow.
ثمَّthen التَفَتُّI turned فَلَمْbut did not أجدْfind
ثمَّ التَفَتُّ فَلَمْ أجدْ
قلباًa heart يُقاسِمُنيshares with me الشُّجُونْsorrows
قلباً يُقاسِمُني الشُّجُونْ
Then I turned, but found no
For it, like me, spills.
I turned around, but found no spirit there
heart to share my sorrows.
The hand of dusk has satisfied
To share the burden of my heavy care.
فَعَسَىso perhaps يَكونُwill be اللَّيلُnight أَرْحَمُmore merciful
فَعَسَى يَكونُ اللَّيلُ أَرْحَمُ
فهوَfor it مِثْلِيlike me يندُبُlaments
فهوَ مِثْلِي يندُبُ
Perhaps the night will be more merciful,
Death with terrible silence,
So maybe Night will prove a friend more dear,
for it laments like me.
So it became like the depths of caves
For like myself, it wails for all to hear.
وعَسَىand perhaps يَصونُpreserves الزَّهْرُthe flowers دَمْعِيmy tears
وعَسَى يَصونُ الزَّهْرُ دَمْعِي
فهوَfor it مِثْلِيlike me يَسكُبُsheds
فهوَ مِثْلِي يَسكُبُ
And perhaps the flowers will preserve my tears,
Without noise or echo.
And maybe flowers will preserve my tear,
for they shed them like me.
It comes with the wings of stillness
For they, like me, shed dew-drops distinct and clear.
قدْindeed قَنَّعَتْveiled كَفُّthe hand of المَساءِevening
قدْ قَنَّعَتْ كَفُّ المَساءِ
الموتَdeath بالصَّمْتِin silence الرَّهيبْdreadful
الموتَ بالصَّمْتِ الرَّهيبْ
The hand of evening has veiled
As if it is the mindless night,
The hand of Evening masks the face of Death
death in dreadful silence,
But the specter of death is harsh
With silence terrible, holding its breath.
فَغَداso became كأَعْماقِlike the depths of الكُهُوفِthe caves
فَغَدا كأَعْماقِ الكُهُوفِ
بِلاwithout ضَجيجٍclamor أَوor وَجِيبْheartbeat
بِلا ضَجيجٍ أَو وَجِيبْ
so it has become like the depths of caves,
While dusk is kind.
It has become like caverns deep and vast,
without clamor or heartbeat.
Why is death not gentle
Where noise and heartbeat are things of the past.
يَأتيcomes بأَجْنِحَةِon wings of السُّكُونِstillness
يَأتي بأَجْنِحَةِ السُّكُونِ
كأنَّهُas though it were اللَّيلُnight البَهيمْpitch-black
كأنَّهُ اللَّيلُ البَهيمْ
It comes on wings of stillness,
On the wailing life,
It comes upon the wings of stillness deep,
as though it were the pitch-black night.
Be they suffering hearts
As if it were the night in pitch-black sleep.
لكنَّbut طَيْفُthe specter of الموتِdeath قاسٍcruel
لكنَّ طَيْفُ الموتِ قاسٍ
والدُّجىand darkness طَيفٌa specter رَحيمْmerciful
والدُّجى طَيفٌ رَحيمْ
But death's specter is cruel,
Or crying hearts alike?
But Death’s dark specter brings a cruel blight,
while darkness is a merciful apparition.
O poetry, was death created
While Darkness is a phantom, soft and light.
ماwhat للمَنِيَّةِis with death لاnot تَرِقُّshows pity
ما للمَنِيَّةِ لا تَرِقُّ
علىfor الحَياةِlife النَّائِحَهْlamenting
على الحَياةِ النَّائِحَهْ
Why does death show no pity
Without feeling like the inanimate?
Why does not Death feel pity or relent
for lamenting life?
No shiver runs through its hand
For Life that wails in endless discontent?
سِيَّانِalike أَفئدةٌhearts تَئِنُّmoan
سِيَّانِ أَفئدةٌ تَئِنُّ
أَوِor القُلُوبُthe hearts الصَّادِحَهْsinging
أَوِ القُلُوبُ الصَّادِحَهْ
It is all the same: hearts that moan
When the heart greets it.
Alike to it are hearts that moan in pain,
or hearts that sing.
Have you seen the flowers of spring
And hearts that sing a joyful, loud refrain.
يَاO شِعْرُpoetry هلْwhether خُلِقَwas created المَنونُdeath
يَا شِعْرُ هلْ خُلِقَ المَنونُ
بلاwithout شعورٍfeeling كالجَمَادْlike lifeless matter
بلا شعورٍ كالجَمَادْ
O poetry, was death created
When their leaves have withered,
O Poetry, was Death created cold,
without feeling, like lifeless matter?
So they fled to the bosom of the soil
Without a feeling, like the stones of old?
لاno رَعْشَةٌtremor تَعْرُوovertakes يديْهِits two hands
لا رَعْشَةٌ تَعْرُو يديْهِ
إِذاwhen تملَّقَهُentreats it الفُؤَادْthe heart
إِذا تملَّقَهُ الفُؤَادْ
No tremor overtakes its hands
When their passions have ended?
Does no slight tremor shake its heavy hand
when the heart entreats it.
Have you seen the thrush in the branches
When pleading hearts before it trembling stand?
أَرأَيْتَhave you seen أَزْهارَthe flowers of الرَّبيعِspring
أَرأَيْتَ أَزْهارَ الرَّبيعِ
وقدْand already ذَوَتْwithered أَوراقُهاtheir petals
وقدْ ذَوَتْ أَوراقُها
Have you seen the flowers of spring,
Singing among the boughs,
Have you beheld the flowers of the Spring,
with their petals already withered,
But the song froze in its chest
When withered leaves to dying branches cling?
فَهَرَتْthen crumbled إلىonto صَدْرِthe breast of التُّرابِthe soil
فَهَرَتْ إلى صَدْرِ التُّرابِ
وقدْand already قَضَتْhad died أَشْواقُهَاtheir longings
وقدْ قَضَتْ أَشْواقُهَا
then crumbled onto the breast of the soil,
When it saw the specter of death?
They fall upon the earth’s accepting breast,
with their longings already dead?
So it died while the pure
Their longings ended, finding final rest.
أَرأَيْتَhave you seen شُحْرورَthe blackbird of الفَلاthe wilderness
أَرأَيْتَ شُحْرورَ الفَلا
مُتَرَنِّماًsinging بَيْنَamong الغُصُونْthe branches
مُتَرَنِّماً بَيْنَ الغُصُونْ
Have you seen the wilderness blackbird
Songs of life were overflowing,
Have you beheld the blackbird of the wild,
singing among the branches?
And it fell from the branches
Singing among the boughs, by joy beguiled?
جَمَدَfroze النَّشيدُthe song بصَدْرِهِin its breast
جَمَدَ النَّشيدُ بصَدْرِهِ
لمَّاwhen رأَىit saw طَيْفَthe specter of المَنُونْdeath
لمَّا رأَى طَيْفَ المَنُونْ
Song froze within its breast
Among the blossoming flowers.
The song has frozen in its little chest
when it saw the specter of death.
Have you seen the mother of a child crying
When Death’s dark specter put it to the test.
فَقَضَىso it died وقدْand already غَاضَتْhad ebbed away
فَقَضَى وقدْ غَاضَتْ
أَغاريدُthe songs of الحَياةِlife الطَّاهِرَهْpure
أَغاريدُ الحَياةِ الطَّاهِرَهْ
Then it died, as they ebbed away—
For that only child
It died, and all the anthems faded there,
the pure songs of life—
When the arm of severe death
The pure, sweet songs of Life that filled the air.
وهَوَىand fell منَfrom الأَغْصانِthe branches
وهَوَى منَ الأَغْصانِ
ماlinking particle بَيْنَamong الزُّهورِthe flowers البَاسِرَهْgrim-faced
ما بَيْنَ الزُّهورِ البَاسِرَهْ
and fell from the branches
Violently took him?
It fell down from the branches, silent now,
among the grim-faced flowers.
Have you heard the wailing of the infatuated lover
Among the flowers with the frowning brow.
أَرأَيْتَhave you seen أُمّthe mother of الطِّفْلِthe child تَبْكيweeping
أَرأَيْتَ أُمّ الطِّفْلِ تَبْكي
ذلكَthat الطِّفْلَchild الوَحيدْonly
ذلكَ الطِّفْلَ الوَحيدْ
Have you seen the child's mother weeping for
Among the graves, crying for his beloved
Have you beheld the mother weeping sore,
that only child,
At the battlefields of the daring death?
For her only child, who is no more?
لمَّاwhen تَنَاوَلَهُseized it بعُنْفٍviolently
لمَّا تَنَاوَلَهُ بعُنْفٍ
ساعِدُthe arm of المَوتِdeath الشَّديدْmighty
ساعِدُ المَوتِ الشَّديدْ
when it was seized violently
The calm of cold patience overflowed
When he was seized by force and cruel might,
by the mighty arm of death?
In the depths of existence,
By Death’s strong arm, into the endless night.
أَسَمِعْتَhave you heard نَوْحَthe lament of العاشِقِthe lover الوَلْهانِdistraught
أَسَمِعْتَ نَوْحَ العاشِقِ الوَلْهانِ
مَاlinking particle بَيْنَamong القُبُورْthe graves
مَا بَيْنَ القُبُورْ
Have you heard the distraught lover's lament
When it saw the justice of life
Have you heard the lover’s wail of woe,
among the graves,
Embraced by the grudging grave.
Among the graves, walking to and fro?
يَبْكيweeps for حَبيبَتَهُhis beloved فياthen O
يَبْكي حَبيبَتَهُ فيا
لِمَصَارعِat the slaughters of الموتِdeath الجَسُورْaudacious
لِمَصَارعِ الموتِ الجَسُورْ
weeping for his beloved? O,
So it flowed in a tune it repeats
Weeping his lost beloved, in despair,
the slaughters of audacious death!
To the hearing of ages,
At Death’s bold slaughter that laid her there.
طَفَحَتْoverflowed بأَعْماقِin the depths of الوُجُودِexistence
طَفَحَتْ بأَعْماقِ الوُجُودِ
سَكِينَةُthe serenity of الصَّبْرِpatience الجَلِيدْsteadfast
سَكِينَةُ الصَّبْرِ الجَلِيدْ
In the depths of existence overflowed
The voice of life with a clamor
In depths of being, patience overflows,
the serenity of steadfast patience,
That races on the edge of seas.
An icy calm that no emotion knows.
لمَّاwhen رأَىit saw عَدْلَthe justice of الحَياةِlife
لمَّا رأَى عَدْلَ الحَياةِ
يَضُمُّهُembraces it اللَّحْدُthe grave الكَنُودْungrateful
يَضُمُّهُ اللَّحْدُ الكَنُودْ
when it saw the justice of life
O poetry, you are the anthem
When it beholds Life’s justice, cold and rude,
embraced by the ungrateful grave.
Of those charming turbulent waves,
Embraced by the grave’s ingratitude.
فَتَدَفَّقَتْthen poured forth لَحْناًas a melody يُرَدِّدُهُrepeats it
فَتَدَفَّقَتْ لَحْناً يُرَدِّدُهُ
علىto سَمْعِthe hearing of الدُّهُورْthe ages
على سَمْعِ الدُّهُورْ
Then it streamed forth as a melody repeated
Gleaming, smiling,
It flowed a melody, repeated long,
within the hearing of the ages
Dancing, pure,
For all the Ages to hear the song.
صَوتُthe voice of الحياةِlife بضَجَّةٍwith a clamor
صَوتُ الحياةِ بضَجَّةٍ
تَسْعَىruns علىalong شَفَةِthe lip of البُحُورْthe seas
تَسْعَى على شَفَةِ البُحُورْ
by the voice of life, in a clamor
Traveling, clamoring
The voice of Life, with clamor and with motion,
running along the lips of the seas.
With life forever,
Striving upon the lips of the great Ocean.
ياO شِعْرُpoetry أَنْتَyou نَشيدُthe song of
يا شِعْرُ أَنْتَ نَشيدُ
أَمْواجِthe waves of الخِضَمِّthe ocean السَّاحِرَهْenchanting
أَمْواجِ الخِضَمِّ السَّاحِرَهْ
O poetry, you are the song
Like the smiling brides of hope
O Poetry, you are the anthem sweet,
of the ocean's enchanting waves,
That touch the expansive horizon.
Of charming waves where sea and shoreline meet.
النَّاصِعاتِradiant الباسِماتِsmiling
النَّاصِعاتِ الباسِماتِ
الرَّاقِصاتِdancing الطَّاهِرَهْpure
الرَّاقِصاتِ الطَّاهِرَهْ
radiant and smiling,
Look, the flowers of spring
The bright, the smiling, dancing in their glee,
dancing and pure,
Have smiled in their sleeves,
The pure and radiant daughters of the sea.
السَّافِراتِunveiled الصَّادِحاتِsinging
السَّافِراتِ الصَّادِحاتِ
معَwith الحياةِlife إلىto الأبدْeternity
معَ الحياةِ إلى الأبدْ
unveiled and singing,
Yearning for the distant sunset,
Unveiled and singing, joyous and sublime,
with life forever,
Tempted by their dreams.
Along with Life until the end of time.
كَعَرائسِlike brides of الأَمَلِhope الضَّحُوكِlaughing
كَعَرائسِ الأَمَلِ الضَّحُوكِ
يَمِسْنَsway proudly ماas long as طالَlasts الأَمَدْtime
يَمِسْنَ ما طالَ الأَمَدْ
like brides of laughing hope,
In their hearts is a hope
Like brides of laughing Hope, they sway and bend,
swaying as long as time endures.
That stares at those stars,
Moving in grace until the ages end.
هاbehold إنَّindeed أَزْهارَthe flowers of الرَّبيعِspring
ها إنَّ أَزْهارَ الرَّبيعِ
تَبَسَّمَتْhave smiled أَكمامُهاtheir calyxes
تَبَسَّمَتْ أَكمامُها
Behold, the flowers of spring—
But it is a hope that will be buried
Behold the flowers of Spring, with calyxes spread,
their calyxes have smiled.
By the tyrants of the elements.
Smiling as they raise each lovely head.
تَرنُوgaze إلىtoward الشَّفقِtwilight البَعيدِdistant
تَرنُو إلى الشَّفقِ البَعيدِ
تغُرُّهاbeguile them أَحْلامُهاtheir dreams
تغُرُّها أَحْلامُها
They gaze toward the distant twilight,
So it will close its eyelids
They gaze at the far twilight in the skies,
their dreams beguiling them.
To all the lights of life
Deceived by dreams that dance before their eyes.
فيin صَدْرِهاtheir breast أملٌa hope
في صَدْرِها أملٌ
يحدِّقُstares نحوَtoward هاتيكthose النُّجومْstars
يحدِّقُ نحوَ هاتيك النُّجومْ
In their breast is a hope
Where darkness looms
Within their breast a hope begins to bloom,
staring toward those stars,
In the atmosphere of your dormancy.
Staring at stars through the impending gloom.
لكنَّهbut it أملٌa hope سَتُلْحِدُهwill bury it
لكنَّه أملٌ سَتُلْحِدُه
جَبَابرةُthe tyrants of الوُجُومْgloom
جَبَابرةُ الوُجُومْ
but it is a hope that will be buried
Listen, it has whispered
But 'tis a hope the titans of despair
by the tyrants of gloom.
In the ears of life its chirp,
Will bury in the silence of the air.
فَلَسَوْفَso surely will تُغْمِضُclose جَفْنَهَاtheir eyelid
فَلَسَوْفَ تُغْمِضُ جَفْنَهَا
عنْto كلِّall أَضواءِthe lights of الحياةْlife
عنْ كلِّ أَضواءِ الحياةْ
So surely they will close their eyelids
The birds of dawn have killed
For soon it shall close up its weary eye,
to all the lights of life,
Its clamor and anthem.
To all the lights of Life beneath the sky.
حيثُwhere الظَّلامُdarkness مخَيِّمٌsettles
حيثُ الظَّلامُ مخَيِّمٌ
فيin جوِّthe air of ذَيَّاكَthat السُّبَاتْslumber
في جوِّ ذَيَّاكَ السُّبَاتْ
where darkness settles
O poetry, you are the anthem
Where darkness pitches tents of gloom and deep,
in the air of that slumber.
Of those smiling flowers,
In that vast atmosphere of endless sleep.
هاbehold إنَّهاindeed they هَمَسَتْhave whispered
ها إنَّها هَمَسَتْ
بِآذانِinto the ears of الحياةِlife غَرِيدَهَاtheir song
بِآذانِ الحياةِ غَرِيدَهَا
Behold, they have whispered
If only I were like the flowers
Behold, it whispered to Life’s listening ear,
their song into the ears of life.
Silent and still.
Its song, but soon the end drew drawing near.
قَتَلَتْhave killed عَصافيرُthe birds of الصَّبَاحِmorning
قَتَلَتْ عَصافيرُ الصَّبَاحِ
صُداحَهَاtheir singing ونَشِيدَهَاand their song
صُداحَهَا ونَشِيدَهَا
The birds of morning have killed
Life is gloomy,
The morning birds have silenced and killed
their singing and their song.
Flooded with its tears,
The song and anthem that its bosom filled.
يَاO شِعْرُpoetry أَنْتَyou نَشِيدُthe song of
يَا شِعْرُ أَنْتَ نَشِيدُ
هاتيكَthose الزُّهُورِflowers الباسِمَهْsmiling
هاتيكَ الزُّهُورِ الباسِمَهْ
O poetry, you are the song
And the sun was saddened by sorrow
O Poetry, you are the anthem clear
of those smiling flowers.
In its rise and decline.
Of those smiling flowers that have no fear.
ياO لَيْتَنيwould that I مِثْلُlike الزُّهُورِthe flowers
يا لَيْتَني مِثْلُ الزُّهُورِ
بلاwithout حَياةٍa life واجِمهْgloom-stricken
بلا حَياةٍ واجِمهْ
O, would that I were like the flowers,
So it drank a bitter cup
I wish I were like flowers in the glade,
without a gloom-stricken life.
From the shining sunset,
Without a glum life, unafraid to fade.
إنَّindeed الحَياةَlife كئيبةٌsorrowful
إنَّ الحَياةَ كئيبةٌ
مَغْمورةٌimmersed بِدُمُوعِهاin its tears
مَغْمورةٌ بِدُمُوعِها
Life is sorrowful,
Then it swayed drunk
For Life is melancholic, sad, and deep,
immersed in its tears.
To the cave of life and did not wake.
Submerged in tears that it must always weep.
والشَّمسُand the sun أضْجَرَهاwearied her الأَسىsorrow
والشَّمسُ أضْجَرَها الأَسى
فيin صَحْوِهاher waking وهُجُوعِهَاand her sleep
في صَحْوِها وهُجُوعِهَا
And grief has wearied the sun
O poetry, you are its wailing
The Sun is weary of the sorrow’s weight,
in her waking and her sleep.
When it fell into its slumber,
In waking hours and in its sleeping state.
فَتَجَرَّعَتْso she gulped كَأساًa cup دِهاقاًoverflowing
فَتَجَرَّعَتْ كَأساً دِهاقاً
مِنْof مُشَعْشَعَةِsparkling wine of الشَّفَقْtwilight
مِنْ مُشَعْشَعَةِ الشَّفَقْ
So she swallowed an overflowing cup
O poetry, you are its clamor
It drained a brimming cup of twilight’s wine,
of twilight's sparkling wine,
In its death and life.
Mixed with the hues of evening’s red decline.
فَتَمَايَلَتْthen she swayed سَكْرَىdrunken إلىtoward
فَتَمَايَلَتْ سَكْرَى إلى
كَهْفِthe cave of الحَياةِlife ولَمْand did not تُفِقْawaken
كَهْفِ الحَياةِ ولَمْ تُفِقْ
then swayed drunkenly toward
Look at the sunset in the sky
It swayed deeply intoxicated, towards the cave,
the cave of life, and never awoke.
Overflowing from those mountains,
Of Life, and never woke from out the grave.
يَاO شِعْرُpoetry أَنْتَyou نَحيبُهاher sobbing
يَا شِعْرُ أَنْتَ نَحيبُها
لمَّاwhen هَوَتْshe sank لسُباتِهاinto her slumber
لمَّا هَوَتْ لسُباتِها
O poetry, you are her sobbing
With its enchanting rays it floods them
O Poetry, you are its wailing cry,
when she sank into her slumber.
With the smiles of beauty.
When it sank down into its sleep to die.
يَاO شِعْرُpoetry أَنْتَyou صُدَاحُهاher singing
يَا شِعْرُ أَنْتَ صُدَاحُها
فيin مَوْتِهاher death وحَيَاتِهاand her life
في مَوْتِها وحَيَاتِها
O poetry, you are her singing
So it stirs in the sad soul
O Poetry, you are its singing voice,
in her death and her life.
A storm that does not calm,
In death and life, its sorrow and rejoice.
انْظُرْlook إلىat شَفَقِthe twilight of السَّماءِthe sky
انْظُرْ إلى شَفَقِ السَّماءِ
يَفيضُoverflows عَنْfrom تِلْكَthose الجِبَالْmountains
يَفيضُ عَنْ تِلْكَ الجِبَالْ
Look at the twilight of the sky,
And kindles the tormented heart
Look at the sky’s red twilight, how it spills
overflowing from those mountains.
A flame that does not die out.
Its radiance o'er the summits of the hills.
بشُعَاعِهِwith its radiance الخَلاّبِenchanting يَغْمُرُهاfloods them
بشُعَاعِهِ الخَلاّبِ يَغْمُرُها
بِبَسْماتِwith the smiles of الجَمَالْbeauty
بِبَسْماتِ الجَمَالْ
With its enchanting radiance, it bathes them
O poetry, you are the beauty
With captivating rays it floods the scene,
in the smiles of beauty,
Of those charming sunset lights,
With smiles of Beauty, radiant and serene.
فَيُثِيرُso stirs فيin النَّفْسِthe soul الكَئيبةِsorrowful
فَيُثِيرُ في النَّفْسِ الكَئيبةِ
عَاصِفاًa tempest لاnot يَرْكُدُsubsides
عَاصِفاً لا يَرْكُدُ
and stirs in the sorrowful soul
O whisper of the waves of dusk,
Stirring the soul, depressed and overcast,
a tempest that never stills,
The smiling and wandering.
With storms that rage and will not settle fast.
ويُؤَجِّجُand kindles القلبَthe heart المُعَذَّبَtormented
ويُؤَجِّجُ القلبَ المُعَذَّبَ
شُعْلَةًa flame لاnot تَخْمُدُdies down
شُعْلَةً لا تَخْمُدُ
and kindles the tormented heart
O flute of my beloved dreams,
Kindling the tortured heart with fire anew,
into a flame that never dies.
O companion of my youth,
A flame that burns with an eternal hue.
يَاO شِعْرُpoetry أنتَyou جمالُthe beauty of
يَا شِعْرُ أنتَ جمالُ
أَضْواءِthe lights of الغُرُوبِsunset السَّاحِرَهْenchanting
أَضْواءِ الغُرُوبِ السَّاحِرَهْ
O poetry, you are the beauty
Without you I would die of my agony
O Poetry, you are the beauty bright
of the enchanting lights of sunset,
And my misery and gloom.
Of enchanting sunset and its golden light.
ياO هَمْسَthe whisper of أَمْواجِthe waves of المَسَاءِevening
يا هَمْسَ أَمْواجِ المَسَاءِ
البَاسِماتِsmiling الحَائرَهْbewildered
البَاسِماتِ الحَائرَهْ
O whisper of evening's waves,
In you my soul folded, and in you
O whisper of the evening waves that sigh,
smiling and bewildered,
I breathed all my feelings,
Smiling yet lost beneath the darkening sky.
ياO نَايَthe reed flute of أَحْلامِيmy dreams الحَبيبةِbeloved
يا نَايَ أَحْلامِي الحَبيبةِ
ياO رَفيقَthe companion of صَبَابَتِيmy ardent love
يا رَفيقَ صَبَابَتِي
O reed flute of my beloved dreams,
So chime on the peaks of life
O flute of my beloved dreams so dear,
O companion of my ardent love,
With my agony, O my bird.
Companion of my love and passion here.
لولاكَwere it not for you مُتُّI would have died بلَوْعَتِيof my anguish
لولاكَ مُتُّ بلَوْعَتِي
وبِشَقْوَتيand of my misery وكَآبَتِيand my melancholy
وبِشَقْوَتي وكَآبَتِي
without you, I would have died of my anguish,
But for you, I had died of burning pain,
and of my misery and melancholy.
Of misery and gloom that fall like rain.
فيكَin you انْطَوَتْenfolded itself نَفْسيmy soul وفيكَand in you
فيكَ انْطَوَتْ نَفْسي وفيكَ
نَفَخْتُI breathed كلَّall مَشَاعِرِيmy feelings
نَفَخْتُ كلَّ مَشَاعِرِي
In you my soul has enfolded itself, and into you
My soul is wrapped in you, and in your art
I have breathed all my feelings.
I breathed the feelings of my beating heart.
فاصْدَحْso sing علىupon قِمَمِthe summits of الحَياةِlife
فاصْدَحْ على قِمَمِ الحَياةِ
بِلَوْعَتيof my anguish ياO طَائِرِيmy bird
بِلَوْعَتي يا طَائِرِي
So sing upon the summits of life
So sing upon the peaks of Life, soar free,
of my anguish, O my bird.
With my deep sorrow, O my bird, for me.
Partial English translation: 208 of 214 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1