لاdo not تُطْنبنْgo on at length فيin بُكاءِweeping النُّؤيthe camp trench والطُّنُبِand the tent ropes
لا تُطْنبنْ في بُكاءِ النُّؤي والطُّنُبِ
ولاnor تُحَيّgreet كَثيبَthe dune of الحَيّthe tribe مِنْfrom كَثَبِnearby
ولا تُحَيّ كَثيبَ الحَيّ مِنْ كَثَبِ
Do not go on at length lamenting the camp trench and tent ropes,
Do not over-lament the wailing of love songs and elegies,
Nor greet the tribe's dune from close by.
Nor rouse the shifty sands that settled and stilled.
ولاnor تَجُدْbe generous بغَمامٍwith a raincloud للغميمto al-Ghamim ولاnor
ولا تَجُدْ بغَمامٍ للغميم ولا
تَسْمَحbe generous لِسِرْبِto the herd of المَهاthe oryx بالواكِفِwith dripping tears السَّرِبِstreaming
تَسْمَح لِسِرْبِ المَها بالواكِفِ السَّرِبِ
Nor lavish a raincloud on al-Ghamim, nor
Find no cloud for the sad heart, allow no flock
bestow dripping, streaming tears on the herd of oryx.
Of restless thoughts to alight on worry’s perch.
رَبْعٌa dwelling site تَعَفَّىbecame effaced فَأَعْفَىand so freed مِنْfrom جَوَىًheartache وأَسَىand sorrow
رَبْعٌ تَعَفَّى فَأَعْفَى مِنْ جَوَىً وأَسَى
قَلْبيmy heart وكَانَand was إِلىto اللَّذَّاتِpleasures مُنْقَلَبيmy return
قَلْبي وكَانَ إِلى اللَّذَّاتِ مُنْقَلَبي
A dwelling was effaced, and so freed from heartache and sorrow
A quarter gone, more merciful than sweet life itself,
my heart; and to pleasures I returned.
It turned my heart from pleasures, left it overturned.
سِيَّانall the same بَانَdeparted خَليطٌcompanions أَوor أَقامَstayed بِهِin it
سِيَّان بَانَ خَليطٌ أَو أَقامَ بِهِ
فَإِنَّماfor it is merely عَامِرُthe inhabited part of البَيْداءِthe wilderness كَالْخَرِبِlike a ruin
فَإِنَّما عَامِرُ البَيْداءِ كَالْخَرِبِ
Whether companions departed or stayed there was all the same,
Two alike—a muddle it remained or made its home—
For a settled place in the wilderness is just like a ruin.
The tent-dweller’s like a ruin beset with doubt.
أَبْهَىmore splendid وأَجْمَلُand lovelier منْthan وَصْفِdescribing الجِمالِthe camels ومنْand than
أَبْهَى وأَجْمَلُ منْ وَصْفِ الجِمالِ ومنْ
إِدْمانِconstant repetition ذِكْرِmention هَوىًa beloved يَهْويspeeds along علىon قَتَبِa camel pack saddle
إِدْمانِ ذِكْرِ هَوىً يَهْوي على قَتَبِ
More splendid and lovelier than describing camels, and than
Lovelier and more beautiful than any image of beauty,
endlessly recalling a beloved speeding along on a camel pack saddle,
Or constant narrative of a passion plunging deep.
مَدُّstretching البَنانِthe fingers إِلىtoward كَأْسٍa cup علىamid سُكْرِintoxication
مَدُّ البَنانِ إِلى كَأْسٍ على سُكْرِ
ورَفْعُand raising صَوْتٍa voice بِتَطْريبٍin melodious song علىamid طَرَبِrapture
ورَفْعُ صَوْتٍ بِتَطْريبٍ على طَرَبِ
are stretching one's fingers toward a cup while drunk,
Wine-pourer, extend the cup of drunkenness,
and raising one's voice in lilting song amid rapture.
And lift up a mellow voice in gentle song.
حَمْراءَred حِينَwhen جَلَتْهاrevealed it الكَأْسُthe cup نَقَّطَهاdotted it
حَمْراءَ حِينَ جَلَتْها الكَأْسُ نَقَّطَها
مِزاجُهاits mixing water بِدَنانِيرٍwith dinars منof الحَبَبِthe bubbles
مِزاجُها بِدَنانِيرٍ من الحَبَبِ
Red wine—when the cup revealed it, it was dotted
When it flushes red, the wine-cup dots it
by the water mixed into it, with dinars of bubbles.
With its color, beads of purest pearl.
كَمْhow many جَدَّدَتْit renewed وهيَwhile it لَمْhad not تُفضَضْbe broken open خَواتِمُهاits seals
كَمْ جَدَّدَتْ وهيَ لَمْ تُفضَضْ خَواتِمُها
منof الدُّهورِthe ages وكَمْand how many أَبْلَتْit wore away مِنَof الحِقَبِthe epochs
من الدُّهورِ وكَمْ أَبْلَتْ مِنَ الحِقَبِ
How often it renewed—its seals still unbroken—
How many times undefiled, its seals still unbroken,
the ages, and how many epochs it wore away!
It has lived through ages, crossed epochs.
كَانَتْwere لَهاto it أَرْجُلُthe feet of الأَعْلاجِthe non-Arabs واتِرةًinjurious
كَانَتْ لَها أَرْجُلُ الأَعْلاجِ واتِرةً
بِالدَوْسِby trampling فَانْتَصَفَتْso it avenged itself مِنْon أَرْؤُسِthe heads of العَرَبِthe Arabs
بِالدَوْسِ فَانْتَصَفَتْ مِنْ أَرْؤُسِ العَرَبِ
The feet of non-Arabs had wronged it
It had the gait of a smooth-stepping mare, and strode
by trampling, so it avenged itself on the heads of the Arabs.
With a proud tread, surpassing horsemen’s skill.
يُسْقيكَهاserves it to you مِنْfrom among بَنيthe sons of الكُفّارِthe unbelievers بَدْرُa full moon دُجىًdarkness
يُسْقيكَها مِنْ بَني الكُفّارِ بَدْرُ دُجىً
أَلحاظُهُhis glances لِلمَعاصيfor sins أَوْكَدُthe surest السَّبَبِthe cause
أَلحاظُهُ لِلمَعاصي أَوْكَدُ السَّبَبِ
A full moon amid darkness, a son of unbelievers, serves it to you;
The bright moon of infidels pours you wine after wine,
His glances are the surest cause of sin.
Its glances for disobedience the strongest cord.
يُوميhe gestures إِليْكَto you بِأَطْرافٍwith fingertips مُطَرَّفَةٍdyed at the tips
يُومي إِليْكَ بِأَطْرافٍ مُطَرَّفَةٍ
بِهاon them خِضابانِtwo dyes للعِنّابِof jujubes والعِنَبِand grapes
بِها خِضابانِ للعِنّابِ والعِنَبِ
He gestures to you with fingers dyed at their tips,
It gestures to you with richly adorned fingers,
bearing two stains, of jujube and grape.
Dyed red with henna, red as grapes.
تَسْبيكَcaptivates you قَامَتُهُhis stature إِنْif قامَhe stands يَمْزُجُهاhe mixes it
تَسْبيكَ قَامَتُهُ إِنْ قامَ يَمْزُجُها
مُوَشَّحاًadorned بِصَليبٍwith a cross صِيغَfashioned مِنْfrom ذَهَبِgold
مُوَشَّحاً بِصَليبٍ صِيغَ مِنْ ذَهَبِ
His figure captivates you when he stands to mix it,
When it stands, its figure sways, dressed
adorned with a cross fashioned from gold.
In a cross of gold, exquisitely wrought.
كَمْhow many مَرَّةًtimes قُلْتُI said إِذwhen أَهْدىoffered تَدَلُّلُهُhis coyness
كَمْ مَرَّةً قُلْتُ إِذ أَهْدى تَدَلُّلُهُ
إِليَّto me جِدَّthe seriousness of الرَّدىdeath فيin صُورَةِthe guise of اللَّعِبِplay
إِليَّ جِدَّ الرَّدى في صُورَةِ اللَّعِبِ
How many times I said, when his coyness offered
How often have I said, as its flirtation proffered me
me death in earnest, in the guise of play:
Sheer delusion masquerading as play:
ياO ضَاحِكاًlaughing one حِينَwhen أَبْكانيmade me weep تَبَسُّمُهُhis smile
يا ضَاحِكاً حِينَ أَبْكاني تَبَسُّمُهُ
حَقٌّright مِنَof الحُّبِlove تُبْكينيyou make me weep وتَضْحَكُand you laugh بيat me
حَقٌّ مِنَ الحُّبِ تُبْكيني وتَضْحَكُ بي
O one who laughed when his smile made me weep,
“Smiling as you make me weep, your smile in love
Is it right in love that you make me weep and laugh at me?
Is right to make me weep, yet smile at me.”
Sol 6.1