أَظَلَّ الوُجُودَ المساءُ الحزينُ

أَظَلَّ الوُجُودَ المساءُ الحزينُ

وفي كفِّهِ معْزَفٌ لا يُبينْ

وفي كفِّهِ معْزَفٌ لا يُبينْ

The sorrowful evening overshadowed existence,

The sorrowful evening shadowed existence,

The sorrowful evening cast its shadow over existence,

And in his palm, an instrument that does not speak;

In his hand an obscure lute,

And in its hand, a lyre of indistinct sound,

وفي ثَغرهِ بَسَماتُ الشُّجونِ

وفي ثَغرهِ بَسَماتُ الشُّجونِ

وفي طَرفِهِ حَسَراتُ السِّنينْ

وفي طَرفِهِ حَسَراتُ السِّنينْ

And on his lips, the smiles of sorrow;

On his lips the smiles of melancholy,

Upon its lips play the smiles of deep grief,

And in his gaze, the regrets of years;

In his eyes the regrets of years.

And in its glance dwell the regrets of the years,

وفي صدرِهِ لوعةٌ لا تَقِرُّ

وفي صدرِهِ لوعةٌ لا تَقِرُّ

وفي قلبِهِ صَعَقَاتُ المَنونْ

وفي قلبِهِ صَعَقَاتُ المَنونْ

And in his breast, an anguish that will not rest;

In his chest ceaseless anguish,

Within its breast lies an anguish that knows no rest,

And in his heart, the shocks of death.

In his heart the shocks of death.

And within its heart, the thunderbolts of doom.

وقبَّلَهُ قُبَلاً صامِتاتٍ كما

وقبَّلَهُ قُبَلاً صامِتاتٍ كما

يَلْثُمُ الموتُ وَرْدَ الغُصُون

يَلْثُمُ الموتُ وَرْدَ الغُصُون

And he kissed it with silent kisses, as

He kissed with silent kisses, as

It kissed the world with silent kisses, just as

Death kisses the roses of the boughs.

Death kisses the rosebuds.

Death might kiss the roses upon the boughs,

وأَفضى إليه بوحْيِ النُّجُومِ

وأَفضى إليه بوحْيِ النُّجُومِ

وسِرِّ الظَّلامِ ولَحْنِ السُّكونْ

وسِرِّ الظَّلامِ ولَحْنِ السُّكونْ

And confided to it the inspiration of the stars,

He confided in him the whisper of the stars,

And confided to it the revelation of the stars,

And the secret of darkness and the melody of stillness.

The secret of darkness and the tune of stillness.

The secret of the dark, and the melody of silence.

وأَوْحى إليه مَزامِيرَهُ

وأَوْحى إليه مَزامِيرَهُ

فغنَّتْ بها في الظَّلامِ الحُزُونْ

فغنَّتْ بها في الظَّلامِ الحُزُونْ

And revealed to it his flute-songs,

He taught him how souls grieve

It inspired the world with its mournful psalms,

So the rugged hills sang them in the dark.

And how longing ends in despair.

So that sorrows sang them aloud in the gloom,

وعَلَّمَهُ كيفَ تأسى النُّفوسُ

وعَلَّمَهُ كيفَ تأسى النُّفوسُ

ويَقضي يَؤوساً لديها الحَنينْ

ويَقضي يَؤوساً لديها الحَنينْ

And taught it how souls grieve,

He made him hear the cries of hearts

And taught it how human souls suffer grief,

And longing dies despairing within them.

And drank from him the draughts of sorrows.

And how longing dies, despairing, within them.

وأَسْمَعَهُ صَرَخاتِ القُلُوبِ

وأَسْمَعَهُ صَرَخاتِ القُلُوبِ

وأَنْهَلَهُ مِنْ سُلافِ الشُّؤونْ

وأَنْهَلَهُ مِنْ سُلافِ الشُّؤونْ

And made it hear the cries of hearts,

So he fell asleep on his tranquil breast

It let it hear the screaming cries of hearts,

And gave it drink from the pure wine of tears.

While his spirit harbored a helpless dream,

And quenched its thirst with the wine of tears.

فأَغفى على صدرِهِ المطمَئِنِّ

فأَغفى على صدرِهِ المطمَئِنِّ

وفي روحِهِ حُلُمٌ مُسْتَكينْ

وفي روحِهِ حُلُمٌ مُسْتَكينْ

Then it dozed upon his tranquil breast,

Strong, defeated, like the magic of eyelids,

So it slumbered upon its tranquil breast,

And in its soul, a subdued dream:

Passionate, playful, like a sad flower.

While in its spirit lay a humble dream,

قويٌّ غَلُوبٌ كسِحْرِ الجُفُونِ

قويٌّ غَلُوبٌ كسِحْرِ الجُفُونِ

شجيٌّ لَعوبٌ كزهرٍ حَزينْ

شجيٌّ لَعوبٌ كزهرٍ حَزينْ

Strong, irresistible, like the spell of eyelids;

Tears moistened his laughter,

Strong and conquering as the magic of eyes,

Plaintive, playful, like a sad blossom;

Sorrows shaded his joys.

Melancholic yet playful, like a sorrowful flower.

ضَحوكٌ وقد بلَّلتهُ الدُّموعُ

ضَحوكٌ وقد بلَّلتهُ الدُّموعُ

طَرُوبٌ وقد ظَلَّلَتْهُ الشُّجُونْ

طَرُوبٌ وقد ظَلَّلَتْهُ الشُّجُونْ

Laughing, though tears have drenched it;

The intoxications of love embraced him

Smiling, though it has been drenched by tears,

Rapturous, though sorrows have overshadowed it.

And the sighs of elegy cradled him.

Full of rapture, though shadowed by griefs.

تعانِقُهُ سَكَراتُ الهَوَى

تعانِقُهُ سَكَراتُ الهَوَى

وتحضُنُهُ شَهَقَاتُ الأَنينْ

وتحضُنُهُ شَهَقَاتُ الأَنينْ

The intoxications of love embrace it,

He resembled the spirit of beautiful youth

Embraced by the intoxications of passion,

And the gasps of lament cradle it.

When it shimmers among the eyelids.

And cradled by the gasps of moaning pain.

يُشابِهُ روحَ الشَّبابِ الجميلِ

يُشابِهُ روحَ الشَّبابِ الجميلِ

إِذا مَا تأَلَّقَ بَيْنَ الجُّفونْ

إِذا مَا تأَلَّقَ بَيْنَ الجُّفونْ

It resembles the spirit of beautiful youth

He brought back to my soul a beautiful image

It resembles the spirit of beautiful youth,

When it shines between the eyelids.

That the turns of years had concealed.

When it shines bright within the eyes.

أَعادَ لنفسي خَيالاً جميلاً

أَعادَ لنفسي خَيالاً جميلاً

لَقَدْ حَجَبَتْهُ صُرُوفُ السِّنينْ

لَقَدْ حَجَبَتْهُ صُرُوفُ السِّنينْ

It restored to my soul a beautiful vision

So the agonies of grief wandered in it

It brought back to my soul a lovely vision,

That the vicissitudes of years had indeed veiled.

And the steps of madness returned to it.

Which the vicissitudes of years had veiled.

فَطَافَتْ بها هَجَسَاتُ الأَسى

فَطَافَتْ بها هَجَسَاتُ الأَسى

وعادَتْ لها خُطُواتُ الجُنُونْ

وعادَتْ لها خُطُواتُ الجُنُونْ

So stirrings of sorrow circled my soul,

The wing of sunset shaded the sky,

So whispers of sorrow roamed through my being,

And the footsteps of madness returned to it.

Casting on it a sad, awesome beauty.

And the footsteps of madness returned once more.

أَظَلَّ الفضاءَ جناحُ الغروبِ

أَظَلَّ الفضاءَ جناحُ الغروبِ

فأَلقى عليهِ جمالاً كَئيبْ

فأَلقى عليهِ جمالاً كَئيبْ

The wing of sunset overshadowed the expanse,

It clothed him in a garment of solemn, passionate majesty,

The wing of sunset cast a shadow on the sky,

And cast upon it a mournful beauty,

Strong, beautiful, defeated.

And draped it in a melancholy beauty,

وأَلبَسَهُ حُلَّةً من جَلالٍ شجيٍّ

وأَلبَسَهُ حُلَّةً من جَلالٍ شجيٍّ

قويٍّ جميلٍ غَلُوبْ

قويٍّ جميلٍ غَلُوبْ

And clothed it in a robe of plaintive majesty,

So those flowers slept on the grass

Clothing it in a robe of mournful majesty,

Strong, beautiful, irresistible.

Witnessed by the sad, fearful evening.

Strong, beautiful, and overwhelming.

فنامَتْ على العُشْبِ تِلْكَ الزُّهُورُ

فنامَتْ على العُشْبِ تِلْكَ الزُّهُورُ

لمرأَى المساءِ الحزينِ الرَّهيبْ

لمرأَى المساءِ الحزينِ الرَّهيبْ

So those flowers fell asleep upon the grass,

The birds of the beautiful open sky retreated

Those flowers fell asleep upon the grass,

At the sight of the sad, awe-inspiring evening.

To the nests, joys of the hearts.

At the sight of the sad and awesome evening.

وآبَتْ طيورُ الفضاءِ الجميلِ

وآبَتْ طيورُ الفضاءِ الجميلِ

لأوكارِها فرِحاتِ القُلُوبْ

لأوكارِها فرِحاتِ القُلُوبْ

And the birds of the beautiful expanse returned

Their warbling concealed

The birds of the beautiful sky returned,

To their nests, with joyful hearts,

The imagination of the spacious, serene sky.

To their nests with hearts full of joy,

وقدْ أَضمرَتْ بأَغاريدها

وقدْ أَضمرَتْ بأَغاريدها

خيالَ السَّماءِ الفسيح الرَّحيبْ

خيالَ السَّماءِ الفسيح الرَّحيبْ

Having harbored within their songs

The shepherd boys headed back to the fold

Concealing within their warbling songs

A vision of the vast, spacious sky.

To drive the sheep in the stillness of sunset,

The image of the vast and spacious heavens.

وَوَلَّى رُعاةُ السَّوامِ إلى الحيِّ

وَوَلَّى رُعاةُ السَّوامِ إلى الحيِّ

يُزْجُونها في صُماتِ الغُروبْ

يُزْجُونها في صُماتِ الغُروبْ

And the herders of grazing flocks turned toward the settlement,

While they yearned for their lambs

And the shepherds turned back toward the hamlet,

Driving them through the silence of sunset.

And plucked the flowers of the fertile meadows.

Driving their flocks in the sunset's silence,

فتَثْغُو حنيناً لحِمْلانِها

فتَثْغُو حنيناً لحِمْلانِها

وتقطفُ زهرَ المُروجِ الخَصيبْ

وتقطفُ زهرَ المُروجِ الخَصيبْ

So they bleat with longing for their lambs,

They sang their songs in a delightful voice,

Bleating with longing for their little lambs,

And pluck the lush flowers of the meadows.

Joyful and melodious.

While cropping the flowers of fertile meadows.

وهمْ يُنشِدونَ أَهازيجَهمْ بصوتٍ

وهمْ يُنشِدونَ أَهازيجَهمْ بصوتٍ

بهيجٍ فَرُوحٍ طَرُوبْ

بهيجٍ فَرُوحٍ طَرُوبْ

While they sing their chants in a voice

They drew music from their flutes

While they chant their rustic songs with a voice

Cheerful, joyous, rapturous.

That gave them every wondrous tune.

Merry, spirited, and full of delight,

ويَسْتَمْنِحونَ مزاميرهم

ويَسْتَمْنِحونَ مزاميرهم

فتمنحُهُمْ كُلَّ لحنٍ عجيبْ

فتمنحُهُمْ كُلَّ لحنٍ عجيبْ

And seek gifts from their flutes,

The sunset breezes carried them

Invoking melodies from their reed pipes,

So these grant them every wondrous melody.

To the enchanting, colorful horizon,

That grant them every wondrous tune,

تطيرُ بهِ نَسَماتُ الغروبِ

تطيرُ بهِ نَسَماتُ الغروبِ

إلى الشَّفقِ المُسْتَطيرِ الخَلُوبْ

إلى الشَّفقِ المُسْتَطيرِ الخَلُوبْ

The breezes of sunset bear it aloft

And the girls' glances inspired them

Carried aloft by the breezes of sunset

Toward the spreading, enchanting twilight.

With the songs of the blissful youthful era.

To the spreading, captivating twilight.

وتوحي لهم نَظَرَاتُ الصَّبايا

وتوحي لهم نَظَرَاتُ الصَّبايا

أَناشيدَ عهدِ الشَّبابِ الرَّطيبْ

أَناشيدَ عهدِ الشَّبابِ الرَّطيبْ

And the maidens' glances inspire in them

Each returned to his family,

And the glances of maidens inspire in them

Songs of the fresh days of youth.

Except for my strange, wandering hope.

The anthems of the time of tender youth.

وأَقْبَلَ كُلٌّ إلى أهلِهِ

وأَقْبَلَ كُلٌّ إلى أهلِهِ

سِوَى أملي المستطارِ الغَريبْ

سِوَى أملي المستطارِ الغَريبْ

And each came home to his family,

It was lost in the wastes of life,

And everyone returned to their kin,

Except my frightened, estranged hope.

And the paths were closed before it.

Save for my scattered, stranger hope,

فقد تاهَ في مَعْسَباتِ الحَيَاة

فقد تاهَ في مَعْسَباتِ الحَيَاة

وسُدَّتْ عليه مناجي الدُّروبْ

وسُدَّتْ عليه مناجي الدُّروبْ

For it had lost its way in life's grasslands,

It remained straying and lonesome, distant,

Which has lost its way in life's rugged paths,

And the paths' escape routes were barred to it.

Battling the harshness of arduous life.

And found the exits of the roads barred shut.

وظلَّ شَريداً وحيداً بعيداً

وظلَّ شَريداً وحيداً بعيداً

يُغالبُ عُنْفَ الحَيَاةِ العَصيبْ

يُغالبُ عُنْفَ الحَيَاةِ العَصيبْ

And remained a wanderer, alone and far away,

Once, it was blissful,

It remained a fugitive, lonely and far,

Struggling against life's grievous violence.

Fluttering around my fertile heart.

Struggling against life's harsh violence.

وقد كانَ مِنْ قبلُ ذا غبطةٍ

وقد كانَ مِنْ قبلُ ذا غبطةٍ

يُرفرفُ حولَ فؤادي الخَصيبْ

يُرفرفُ حولَ فؤادي الخَصيبْ

Though it had once been filled with joy,

When evening shadowed the sky

Yet once, it was possessed of joy,

Fluttering around my fertile heart.

And sorrow intoxicated the soul of existence,

Fluttering around my fertile heart.

ولمَّا أَظلَّ المَساءُ السَّماءَ

ولمَّا أَظلَّ المَساءُ السَّماءَ

وأسكَرَ بالحُزْنِ روحَ الوُجُودْ

وأسكَرَ بالحُزْنِ روحَ الوُجُودْ

And when evening overshadowed the sky,

I stood and asked him, will the spring

And when the evening shadowed the sky,

And intoxicated the spirit of existence with sorrow,

Of wandering life return to my heart,

And intoxicated the soul of the world with grief,

وقفتُ وساءلتُهُ هل يَؤوبُ لقلبي

وقفتُ وساءلتُهُ هل يَؤوبُ لقلبي

رَبيعُ الحَيَاةِ الشَّرودْ

رَبيعُ الحَيَاةِ الشَّرودْ

I stood and asked him: Will there return to my heart

Where the songs of roses throb

I stood and asked: Will it ever return to my heart,

The wandering spring of life,

And the paradise of my barren soul grows green,

That fugitive spring of life?

فَتَخْفُقُ فيه أَغاني الورودِ

فَتَخْفُقُ فيه أَغاني الورودِ

ويخضرُّ فِرْدَوْسُ نفسي الحَصيدْ

ويخضرُّ فِرْدَوْسُ نفسي الحَصيدْ

So that the songs of roses flutter within it,

Where the bride of dawn struts

Will the songs of roses pulse within it,

And my soul's shorn paradise grow green,

And the dew dances to that chant,

And the reaped paradise of my soul turn green?

وتختالُ فيهِ عَروسُ الصَّباحِ

وتختالُ فيهِ عَروسُ الصَّباحِ

وتمرَحُ نَشْوَى بذاكَ النَّشيدْ

وتمرَحُ نَشْوَى بذاكَ النَّشيدْ

And the bride of morning sway proudly within it,

And the beautiful, faithful peace

Will the bride of the morning walk proudly there,

And frolic, intoxicated by that song,

Returns to me from the embers of hell?

And frolic, rapturous with that song?

ويَرجعُ لي مِنْ عِراصِ الجحيمِ

ويَرجعُ لي مِنْ عِراصِ الجحيمِ

سلامُ الفؤادِ الجميلُ العهيدْ

سلامُ الفؤادِ الجميلُ العهيدْ

And will there return to me from the courtyards of hell

For the daughters of darkness had shackled it

And will it return to me from the courts of hell,

The heart's beautiful, long-familiar peace?

And cast it into the darkness of extinction.

The beautiful, promised peace of heart?

فقد كبَّلَتْهُ بَناتُ الظَّلامِ

فقد كبَّلَتْهُ بَناتُ الظَّلامِ

وأَلقيْنَهُ في ظلامِ اللُّحودْ

وأَلقيْنَهُ في ظلامِ اللُّحودْ

For the daughters of darkness have shackled it,

He listened to my lasting ardor

For the daughters of darkness have shackled it,

And cast it into the darkness of graves.

And addressed me from afar:

And cast it into the gloom of the graves.

فأَصْغى إلى لَهَفي المستمرِّ

فأَصْغى إلى لَهَفي المستمرِّ

وخاطَبَني مِنْ مكانٍ بعيدْ

وخاطَبَني مِنْ مكانٍ بعيدْ

Then he listened to my unceasing anguish,

The memories of that love return,

It listened to my ceaseless yearning,

And addressed me from a distant place:

But the magic of love does not return.

And addressed me from a distant place:

تَعودُ ادِّكاراتُ ذاكَ الهَوَى

تَعودُ ادِّكاراتُ ذاكَ الهَوَى

ولكنَّ سِحْرَ الهَوَى لا يَعودْ

ولكنَّ سِحْرَ الهَوَى لا يَعودْ

The memories of that love return,

In me surged life's tragedies

"The memories of that passion may return,

But the magic of love does not return.

And the mighty, obstinate spite.

But the magic of passion returns no more."

فجَاشَتْ بنفس مآسي الحَيَاةِ

فجَاشَتْ بنفس مآسي الحَيَاةِ

وسخطُ القُنُوطِ القويِّ المُريدْ

وسخطُ القُنُوطِ القويِّ المُريدْ

So life's tragedies surged within a soul,

When the gales of despair raged

Then the tragedies of life surged within my soul,

And the wrath of strong, resolute despair.

And attacked with every sharp weapon,

With the wrath of a strong and willful despair.

ولمَّا طَغَتْ عَصَفاتُ القُنُوط

ولمَّا طَغَتْ عَصَفاتُ القُنُوط

فمادتْ بكلِّ مَكِينٍ عَتيدْ

فمادتْ بكلِّ مَكِينٍ عَتيدْ

And when the gusts of despair ran rampant,

I faced them with my suffering, frightened heart,

And when the storms of despair overwhelmed,

So that every firm, sturdy thing reeled,

Once solid rock.

Shaking all that was firm and established,

أَهَبْتُ بقلبي الهلوعِ الجزوعِ

أَهَبْتُ بقلبي الهلوعِ الجزوعِ

وكانَ مِنْ قبلُ جَلْداً شَديدْ

وكانَ مِنْ قبلُ جَلْداً شَديدْ

I called out to my anxious, fretful heart,

Endure, do not surrender to the nights,

I called out to my panicked, anxious heart,

Which had once been steadfast and strong:

For only the patient and stoic prevails.

Which was once enduring and strong:

تجلَّدْ ولا تَسْتَكِنْ للَّيالي

تجلَّدْ ولا تَسْتَكِنْ للَّيالي

فما فازَ إلاَّ الصَّبورُ الجَليدْ

فما فازَ إلاَّ الصَّبورُ الجَليدْ

Be steadfast, and do not yield to the nights;

Do not despair over the turns of fate,

"Endure! Submit not to the dark nights,

For only the patient, resilient one triumphs.

For beyond the clouds is a new dawn.

For none triumph but the patient and the steel-willed.

ولا تَأْسَ مِنْ حادِثاتِ الدُّهُورِ

ولا تَأْسَ مِنْ حادِثاتِ الدُّهُورِ

فخَلْفَ الدَّياجيرِ فَجْرٌ جَديدْ

فخَلْفَ الدَّياجيرِ فَجْرٌ جَديدْ

And do not grieve over the calamities of the ages;

Without the wrathful winter clouds

Do not grieve over the accidents of time,

For beyond deep darkness lies a new dawn.

The garden would not bear those roses.

For behind the darkness lies a new dawn.

ولولا غيومُ الشِّتاءِ الغِضابُ

ولولا غيومُ الشِّتاءِ الغِضابُ

لما نَضَّدَ الرَّوضُ تِلْكَ الوُرودْ

لما نَضَّدَ الرَّوضُ تِلْكَ الوُرودْ

And were it not for winter's angry clouds,

Without the gloomy darkness of life

Were it not for the angry winter clouds,

The garden would not have arrayed those roses;

The morning would not weave those gems.

The garden would not have bloomed with roses.

ولولا ظَلامُ الحَيَاةِ العَبُوسُ

ولولا ظَلامُ الحَيَاةِ العَبُوسُ

لما نَسَجَ الصُّبْحُ تِلْكَ البُرُودْ

لما نَسَجَ الصُّبْحُ تِلْكَ البُرُودْ

And were it not for life's scowling darkness,

And were it not for life's frowning gloom,

Dawn would not have woven those striped mantles.

The morning would not weave its mantles of light."