وَيَدٍand a hand يَراهاregards it الدَهرُTime غَيرَnot ذَميمَةٍblameworthy
وَيَدٍ يَراها الدَهرُ غَيرَ ذَميمَةٍ
تَمحوerases إِساءَتَهُits wrongdoing إِلَيَّtoward me وَتَغفِرُand forgives
تَمحو إِساءَتَهُ إِلَيَّ وَتَغفِرُ
And a hand that Time regards as blameless
A hand time sees as blameless,
Erases Time's wrongdoing toward me and forgives.
That wipes away the wrong it did to me and pardons it,
أَهدَتgave as a gift إِلَيَّto me مَوَدَّةًaffection مِنfrom صاحِبٍa friend
أَهدَت إِلَيَّ مَوَدَّةً مِن صاحِبٍ
تَزكوflourishes المَوَدَّةُthe affection فيin ثَراهُhis soil وَتُثمِرُand bears fruit
تَزكو المَوَدَّةُ في ثَراهُ وَتُثمِرُ
It brought me the gift of a friend's affection;
Brought me a friend's affection,
Affection flourishes in his soil and bears fruit.
Affection that grows pure in its intimacy and bears fruit,
عَلِقَتclung يَديmy hand مِنهُfrom him بِعِلقِto a prized possession مَضَنَّةٍjealously cherished
عَلِقَت يَدي مِنهُ بِعِلقِ مَضَنَّةٍ
مِمّاof what يُصانُis guarded عَلىthrough الزَمانِtime وَيُدخَرُand is stored away
مِمّا يُصانُ عَلى الزَمانِ وَيُدخَرُ
From him my hand has grasped a treasure jealously cherished,
My hand clung to it with a clinging, tenacious bond
Such as is guarded through time and kept in store.
That endures through time and is hoarded away,
إِنّيindeed I عَلَيكَwith you أَباO father of حُصَينٍḤuṣayn عاتِبٌreproachful
إِنّي عَلَيكَ أَبا حُصَينٍ عاتِبٌ
وَالحُرُّand the noble man يَحتَمِلُbears with الصَديقَthe friend وَيَصبِرُand is patient
وَالحُرُّ يَحتَمِلُ الصَديقَ وَيَصبِرُ
Indeed, I reproach you, Abu Ḥuṣayn,
Yet I complain of you, Abu Husain,
And a noble man bears with his friend and is patient.
And the free man bears with his friend and is patient,
وَإِذاand when وَجَدتُI took offense عَلىat الصَديقِthe friend شَكَوتُهُI complained of him
وَإِذا وَجَدتُ عَلى الصَديقِ شَكَوتُهُ
سِرّاًprivately إِلَيهِto him وَفيand in المَحافِلِthe gatherings أَشكُرُI praise
سِرّاً إِلَيهِ وَفي المَحافِلِ أَشكُرُ
And when I take offense at a friend, I complain of him
When I find fault with a friend I complain of him
Privately to him, while in gatherings I praise him.
In secret to him, and in gatherings I give thanks,
ماwhat بالُis the matter with شِعريmy verse لاتَرُدُّyou do not send back جَوابَهُits reply
ما بالُ شِعري لاتَرُدُّ جَوابَهُ
سَحبانُSaḥbān عِندَكَbeside you باقِلٌBāqil لاnot أَعذُرُI excuse
سَحبانُ عِندَكَ باقِلٌ لا أَعذُرُ
What is the matter with my verse, that you send it no reply?
Why does my poetry get no answer from you?
Saḥbān is Bāqil beside you; I do not excuse you.
At your place it seems a fruitless effort I cannot excuse.
Sol 6.1