تِلكَ الخمائلُ عُرِّيَت أشجارُها

تِلكَ الخمائلُ عُرِّيَت أشجارُها

يَبست وليسَ بمُمكِنٍ إنضارُها

يَبست وليسَ بمُمكِنٍ إنضارُها

Those groves—their trees have been stripped bare.

Those orchards were stripped bare, their trees withered, it's impossible to make them bloom again.

They have dried up, and cannot be made green again.

Winter took away their fragrance and freshness, and bid farewell to their birds after autumn.

ذهَبَ الشتاءُ بعِطرِها وبِنضرها

ذهَبَ الشتاءُ بعِطرِها وبِنضرها

بعدَ الخَريفِ فودّعت أطيارها

بعدَ الخَريفِ فودّعت أطيارها

Winter has carried off their fragrance and their freshness,

In every gentle breeze, there is a sigh of lament from them, and an echo of chirping cast away by their flocks.

After autumn; so they bade their birds farewell.

The birds have migrated from our homes, leaving those abodes desolate and deserted.

في كلّ ريحِ أنّةٌ من نَوحِها

في كلّ ريحِ أنّةٌ من نَوحِها

وصَدى صفيرٍ قد رَماهُ هزارها

وصَدى صفيرٍ قد رَماهُ هزارها

In every wind is a moan from their lament,

How beautiful and gentle was their warbling when they sang across from their nests.

And the echo of a whistle their nightingale once sent forth.

Oh how I wish I had wings like them to roam every land frequented by their like.

عنّا الطيورُ ترحَّلَت فدِيارُنا

عنّا الطيورُ ترحَّلَت فدِيارُنا

قد أوحَشَت وخلَت هناكَ ديارها

قد أوحَشَت وخلَت هناكَ ديارها

The birds have departed from us, so our homes

Then I would fly in the horizons among their flocks, yearning for their love and fruit.

Have grown desolate, and their homes there lie empty.

And the fluttering of wings makes me yearn until I settle where the birds have settled.

ما كان أجملَها وألطفَ شَدوها

ما كان أجملَها وألطفَ شَدوها

إن غرَّدَت وإزاءَها أوكارها

إن غرَّدَت وإزاءَها أوكارها

How beautiful they were, and how sweet their song,

My country is too confining for my hopes and wishes, so my soul is not fulfilled by just roaming it.

When they warbled, with their nests beside them!

It aspires to distant travels, having long delighted in seeking lofty heights.

يا ليتَ لي مِنها الجناح ولَيتَني

يا ليتَ لي مِنها الجناح ولَيتَني

في كلِّ أرضٍ يَمَّمتها جارها

في كلِّ أرضٍ يَمَّمتها جارها

Oh, if only I had a wing of theirs, and if only I

Shall I roam in these plains hoping, while their expanses are vast to me like oceans?

Were their neighbor in every land they headed for.

I am dormant in an obscure spot, where its free and best roam.

فأطير في الآفاق بينَ سروبِها

فأطير في الآفاق بينَ سروبِها

جذلاً وقُوتي حَبُّها وثمارها

جذلاً وقُوتي حَبُّها وثمارها

Then I would fly across the horizons among their flocks,

Its rocks on its hills and plateaus are bare guards frowning at me.

Joyful, with their grain and fruit for my food.

How miserable I am with a spacious heart, in the breast of a constricted space tightening its belt.

ومن الجِناحَينِ الخفوقُ يشوقني

ومن الجِناحَينِ الخفوقُ يشوقني

حتى يَقُرَّ من الطيورِ قَرارها

حتى يَقُرَّ من الطيورِ قَرارها

And the flutter of the two wings fills me with longing,

Winter has returned with its clouds and winds, and my soul returned in turbulence towards it.

Until the birds settle into their resting place.

My heart, in which hope has withered like a meadow whose flowers faded from the intense cold.

وطَني يضيقُ عنِ المَطالبِ والمُنى

وطَني يضيقُ عنِ المَطالبِ والمُنى

فالنَّفسُ لا تُقضى هنا أوطارها

فالنَّفسُ لا تُقضى هنا أوطارها

My homeland is too narrow for aspirations and wishes;

And the blue dome blocked it with the clouds' darkness, its veil cannot be lifted.

So here the soul's desires cannot be fulfilled.

It moves slowly as the winds drive it, like souls driven by fate.

تَصبُو إِلى السَّفَرِ البَعيدِ وطالما

تَصبُو إِلى السَّفَرِ البَعيدِ وطالما

لذَّت لِعاشِقَةِ العُلى أسفارها

لذَّت لِعاشِقَةِ العُلى أسفارها

It yearns for distant travel, and how often

Those clouds cast their shadows in my eyes, and pour their billows and orbits upon my heart.

Its journeys have delighted a lover of the heights.

Bearing lightning bolts from their collisions, they swoop down while the blazing lightning is their fire.

أَأَسيحُ في هَذي البسيطةِ آملاً

أَأَسيحُ في هَذي البسيطةِ آملاً

وسُهولُها لي رحبَةٌ وبِحارها

وسُهولُها لي رحبَةٌ وبِحارها

Shall I roam this earth, full of hope,

And the atmosphere responds to their thunder, while the earth is flooded and its landmarks are obscured.

With its plains and seas lying wide before me?

So how can eyes find rest in the midst of a harsh nature that strips it of its freshness and vegetation?

أنا خاملٌ في بُقعةٍ مَجهُولةٍ

أنا خاملٌ في بُقعةٍ مَجهُولةٍ

أَسرى بها أحرارُها وخيارها

أَسرى بها أحرارُها وخيارها

I am obscure in an unknown patch of land,

Its executioner, winter, wrapped it in shrouds of hail, its tears are its rains.

Where its free people and its finest are captives.

Return, O spring, to the meadows, bringing joy, after you the pleasures have become few.

وصخورُها في غابها وهِضابُها

وصخورُها في غابها وهِضابُها

حَرَسٌ مَجَرَّدةٌ عليَّ شِفارها

حَرَسٌ مَجَرَّدةٌ عليَّ شِفارها

And its rocks within its forest, and its hills,

I cry for you, and there is no consolation for this grief, how many days did I spend with fond memories of you.

Are guards with their blades bared against me.

And I yearn for your dawns which bestowed their morning breeze upon me.

ما كان أتعسني بقلبٍ واسعٍ

ما كان أتعسني بقلبٍ واسعٍ

في صدرِ ضيّقةٍ يُشدُّ إزارها

في صدرِ ضيّقةٍ يُشدُّ إزارها

How wretched I was, with a spacious heart

So rise with them smiling and gladdened, for the earth was dark like the night until your light.

In the bosom of a cramped land whose girdle is pulled tight!

And bring back your birds, flowers, and dew, for news of them make me yearn from afar.

عادَ الشتاءُ بغيمِهِ ورياحهِ

عادَ الشتاءُ بغيمِهِ ورياحهِ

والنفسُ عادت نحوَها أَكدارها

والنفسُ عادت نحوَها أَكدارها

Winter has returned with its clouds and winds,

No trace of them remains on the soil, yet ample are their traces within my soul.

And the soul's sorrows have returned to it.

So when will you return with happiness and love, your warbling is sweet music to my ears.

قلبي ذوى فيهِ الرجاءُ كروضةٍ

قلبي ذوى فيهِ الرجاءُ كروضةٍ

ذَبلت لشدّةِ بردهِ أزهارها

ذَبلت لشدّةِ بردهِ أزهارها

My heart, where hope has withered, is like a garden

Without you, the body is cold and tense, while the soul is a fire whose sparks fly.

Whose flowers have wilted under winter's bitter cold.

والقبةُ الزرقاءُ حالت دونَها

والقبةُ الزرقاءُ حالت دونَها

سودُ الغيومِ فلا يُزاحُ سِتارها

سودُ الغيومِ فلا يُزاحُ سِتارها

And the blue dome is screened from view

By black clouds, and its veil is not drawn aside.

تسري ببطءِ والرياحُ تسوقُها

تسري ببطءِ والرياحُ تسوقُها

مثلَ النفوسِ تسوقُها أَقدارها

مثلَ النفوسِ تسوقُها أَقدارها

They drift slowly, and the winds drive them,

As souls are driven by their destinies.

تلكَ السحائبُ طلُّها في مُقلتي

تلكَ السحائبُ طلُّها في مُقلتي

وعلى فؤادي ركمُها ومدارها

وعلى فؤادي ركمُها ومدارها

Those clouds—their dew is in my eye,

And upon my heart are their piled masses and their circling.

حمَلت صواعقَ من تصادمها غدت

حمَلت صواعقَ من تصادمها غدت

تنقضُّ والبرقُ المحرّقُ نارها

تنقضُّ والبرقُ المحرّقُ نارها

They bore thunderbolts that, born of their collisions, began

To strike down; scorching lightning is their fire.

والجوُّ فيهِ للرعودِ تجاوبٌ

والجوُّ فيهِ للرعودِ تجاوبٌ

والأرضُ غَرقى لا يلوحُ شِعارها

والأرضُ غَرقى لا يلوحُ شِعارها

And in the air the thunderclaps answer one another,

And the earth lies drowned; its mantle cannot be seen.

فبمَ العيون تقرُّ وسطَ طبيعةٍ

فبمَ العيون تقرُّ وسطَ طبيعةٍ

جذّاءَ يُنزعُ نضرها ونضارها

جذّاءَ يُنزعُ نضرها ونضارها

Then what can gladden the eyes amid nature

Shorn bare, with its freshness and its gold stripped away?

صنّبرها جلادُها وثلوجُها

صنّبرها جلادُها وثلوجُها

أكفانُها ودموعُها أمطارها

أكفانُها ودموعُها أمطارها

Its bitter cold is its executioner, and its snows

Are its shrouds, and its tears are its rains.

عُد يا ربيعُ إلى المرابعِ مؤنساً

عُد يا ربيعُ إلى المرابعِ مؤنساً

مِن بَعدِكَ اللذات شطَّ مزارها

مِن بَعدِكَ اللذات شطَّ مزارها

Return, O spring, to the meadows, bringing comfort;

Since you left, the haunts of pleasure have grown remote.

أبكي عليكَ ولا عزاءٌ في الأسى

أبكي عليكَ ولا عزاءٌ في الأسى

كم فيكَ أياماً حلا تذكارها

كم فيكَ أياماً حلا تذكارها

I weep for you, and there is no solace in sorrow.

How many days in you are sweet to remember!

واصَبوتاه إلى صبائحكَ التي

واصَبوتاه إلى صبائحكَ التي

أهدَت إليَّ نسيمَها أسحارها

أهدَت إليَّ نسيمَها أسحارها

Ah, my longing for your mornings, whose

Predawn hours offered me their breeze!

فاطلع بها متبسِّماً متهلِّلاً

فاطلع بها متبسِّماً متهلِّلاً

فالأرضُ مثلَ الليلِ صارَ نهارها

فالأرضُ مثلَ الليلِ صارَ نهارها

So dawn in them, smiling and radiant,

For the earth's day has become like night.

وأعد طيورَكَ والأزاهرَ والندى

وأعد طيورَكَ والأزاهرَ والندى

فعلى البعادِ تشوقني أخبارها

فعلى البعادِ تشوقني أخبارها

And bring back your birds, the blossoms, and the dew,

For despite the distance, news of them stirs my longing.

لم يبقَ من أثرٍ لها فوقَ الثرى

لم يبقَ من أثرٍ لها فوقَ الثرى

وكثيرةٌ في مهجتي آثارها

وكثيرةٌ في مهجتي آثارها

Not a trace of them remains upon the soil,

Yet many are their traces within my heart.

فمتى تعودُ مع السعادةِ والهوى

فمتى تعودُ مع السعادةِ والهوى

ورئيّتي يحلو لها مزمارها

ورئيّتي يحلو لها مزمارها

Then when will you return with happiness and love,

And my muse find sweetness in her flute?

الجسمُ بعدَكَ باردٌ متشنِّجٌ

الجسمُ بعدَكَ باردٌ متشنِّجٌ

والنفسُ نارٌ يَستطيرُ شرارها

والنفسُ نارٌ يَستطيرُ شرارها

The body, in your absence, is cold and convulsed,

And the soul is a fire whose sparks fly everywhere.