ألا في سبيل الله ذاك الدم الغالي — Ahmed Shawqi

أَلا في سَبيلِ اللَهِ ذاكَ الدَمُ الغالي

وَلِلمَجدِ ما أَبقى مِنَ المَثَلِ العالي

Lo, that precious blood was shed in God's cause,

and for glory is the lofty example it left behind.

وَبَعضُ المَنايا هِمَّةٌ مِن وَرائِها

حَياةٌ لِأَقوامٍ وَدُنيا لِأَجيالِ

Some deaths are noble striving, beyond which

lie life for peoples and a world for generations.

أَعَينَيَّ جودا بِالدُموعِ عَلى دَمٍ

كَريمِ المُصَفّى مِن شَبابٍ وَآمالِ

O my two eyes, be generous with tears over blood

of noble essence, distilled from youth and hopes.

تَناهَت بِهِ الأَحداثُ مِن غُربَةِ النَوى

إِلى حادِثٍ مِن غُربَةِ الدَهرِ قَتّالِ

The turns of fate bore him from the exile of separation

to a murderous calamity among time's strange turns.

جَرى أُرجُوانِيّاً كُمَيتاً مُشَعشَعاً

بِأَبيَضَ مِن غِسلِ المَلائِكِ سَلسالِ

It flowed crimson, wine-dark, mingled

with clear, sweet-flowing water from the angels' washing.

وَلاذَ بِقُضبانِ الحَديدِ شَهيدُهُ

فَعادَت رَفيفاً مِن عُيونٍ وَأَطلالِ

Its martyr sought refuge by the iron rails,

so they became a fluttering throng of eyes and ruined forms.

سَلامٌ عَلَيهِ في الحَياةِ وَهامِداً

وَفي العُصُرِ الخالي وَفي العالَمِ التالي

Peace upon him, in life and lying lifeless,

in the bygone age and in the world to come.

خَليلَيَّ قوما في رُبى الغَربِ وَاِسقِيا

رَياحينَ هامٍ في التُرابِ وَأَوصالِ

My two friends, rise on the hills of the West and water

the fragrant flowers of heads and limbs in the dust,

مِنَ الناعِماتِ الراوِياتِ مِنَ الصِبا

ذَوَت بَينَ حِلٍّ في البِلادِ وَتَرحالِ

those tender blooms, well watered by youth,

that withered between dwelling in the lands and journeying.

نَعاها لَنا الناعي فَمالَ عَلى أَبٍ

هَلوعٍ وَأُمٍّ بِالكِنانَةِ مِثكالِ

The death-messenger announced them to us, then turned upon a father,

anguished, and a child-bereft mother in Kinana.

طَوى الغَربَ نَحوَ الشَرقِ يَعدو سُلَيكُهُ

بِمُضطَرِبٍ في البَرِّ وَالبَحرِ مِرقالِ

Its Sulayk crossed the West, running toward the East,

on a restless, fleet runner over land and sea.

يُسِرُّ إِلى النَفسِ الأَسى غَيرَ هامِسٍ

وَيُلقي عَلى القَلبِ الشَجى غَيرَ قَوّالِ

It confides sorrow to the soul without whispering,

and casts anguish upon the heart without speaking.

سَماءُ الحِمى بِالشاطِئينِ وَأَرضُهُ

مَناحَةُ أَقمارٍ وَمَأتَمُ أَشبالِ

The homeland's sky on both banks, and its earth,

are a mourning-place for moons, a funeral for lion cubs.

تُرى الريحُ تَدري ما الَّذي قَد أَعادَها

بِساطاً وَلَكِن مِن حَديدٍ وَأَثقالِ

Does the wind, I wonder, know what has made it

a carpet, yet one of iron and heavy loads,

يُقِلُّ مِنَ الفِتيانِ أَشبالَ غابَةٍ

غُداةً عَلى الأَخطارِ رُكّابَ أَهوالِ

carrying, among the youths, a forest's lion cubs,

one morning, braving dangers, riding terrors?

ثَنَتهُ العَوادي دونَ أودينَ فَاِنثَنى

بِآخَرَ مِن دُهمِ المَقاديرِ ذَيّالِ

Calamities turned it aside short of Udine, and it swerved

against another, long-tailed among fate's dark decrees.

قَدِ اِعتَنَقا تَحتَ الدُخانِ كَما اِلتَقى

كَمِيّانِ في داجٍ مِن النَقعِ مُنجالِ

The two embraced beneath the smoke, as meet

two armored warriors in a dark, dispersing cloud of battle-dust.

فَسُبحانَ مَن يَرمي الحَديدَ وَبَأسَهُ

عَلى ناعِمٍ غَضٍّ مِنَ الزَهرِ مِنهالِ

Glory to Him who hurls iron and its might

upon a tender, fresh, bounteous bloom;

وَمَن يَأخُذُ السارينَ بِالفَجرِ طالِعاً

طُلوعَ المَنايا مِن زَنِيّاتِ آجالِ

and who seizes night travelers at dawn, rising

as deaths rise from the bastard offspring of appointed ends;

وَمَن يَجعَلُ الأَسفارَ لِلناسِ هِمَّةً

إِلى سَفَرٍ يَنوونَهُ غَيرَ قُفّالِ

and who makes people's travels an aspiration

toward a journey they intend, never to return.

فَيا ناقِليهِم لَو تَرَكتُم رُفاتَهُم

أَقامَ يَتيماً في حِراسَةِ لَئآلِ

So, O you who carried them away: had you left their remains,

they would have lain orphaned, in the keeping of pearls.

وَبَينَ غَريبالدي وَكافورَ مَضجَعٌ

لَنُزّاعِ أَمصارٍ عَلى الحَقِّ نُزّالِ

Between Garibaldi and Cavour is a resting place

for exiles from cities, champions of right.

فَهَل عَطَفَتكُم رَنَّةُ الأَهلِ وَالحِمى

وَضَجَّةُ أَترابٍ عَلَيهِم وَأَمثالِ

Was it the wailing of kin and homeland that moved you,

and the clamor over them of their peers and fellows?

لَئِن فاتَ مِصراً أَن يَموتوا بِأَرضِها

لَقَد ظَفِروا بِالبَعثِ مِن تُربِها الغالي

Though Egypt missed their dying upon her soil,

they have won resurrection from her precious earth.

وَما شَغَلَتهُم عَن هَواها قِيامَةٌ

إِذا اِعتَلَّ رَهنُ المَحبِسَينِ بِأَشغالِ

No resurrection distracted them from their love of her,

when the captive of the two prisons pleaded other cares.

حَمَلتُم مِنَ الغَربِ الشُموسَ لِمَشرِقٍ

تَلَقّى سَناها مُظلِماً كاسِفِ البالِ

You bore suns from the West to an East

that received their radiance in darkness, its spirit eclipsed.

عَواثِرَ لَم تَبلُغ صِباها وَلَم تَنَل

مَداها وَلَم توصَل ضُحاها بِآصالِ

Stumbling suns that never reached their youthful fullness, nor attained

their full span, nor had their forenoons joined to evenings.

يُطافُ بِهِم نَعشاً فَنَعشاً كَأَنَّهُم

مَصاحِفُ لَم يَعلُ المُصَلّي عَلى التالي

They are borne about, bier after bier, as though they were

copies of the Qur'an, no worshipper's voice above the reciter's.

تَوابيتُ في الأَعناقِ تَترى زَكِيَّةً

كَتابوتِ موسى في مَناكِبِ إِسرالِ

Pure coffins, borne on necks, come one after another,

like the Ark of Moses on Israel's shoulders,

مُلَفَّفَةً في حُلَّةٍ شَفَقِيَّةٍ

هِلالِيَّةٍ مِن رايَةِ النيلِ تِمثالِ

wrapped in a twilight-red robe,

crescent-marked, a likeness of the Nile's flag.

أَظَلَّ جَلالُ العِلمِ وَالمَوتِ وَفدَها

فَلَم تُلقَ إِلّا في خُشوعٍ وَإِجلالِ

The majesty of learning and death shaded their procession,

so they were met only with humility and reverence.

تُفارِقُ داراً مِن غُرورٍ وَباطِلٍ

إِلى مَنزِلٍ مِن جيرَةِ الحَقِّ مِحلالِ

They leave an abode of illusion and falsehood

for a welcoming dwelling among the neighbors of truth.

فَيا حَلبَةً رَفَّت عَلى البَحرِ حِليَةً

وَهَزَّت بِها حُلوانُ أَعطافَ مُختالِ

O company that fluttered over the sea as an ornament,

for whom Helwan proudly swayed its flanks;

جَرَت بَينَ إيماضِ العَواصِمِ بِالضُحى

وَبَينَ اِبتِسامِ الثَغرِ بِالمَوكِبِ الحالي

it coursed between the capitals' daylight gleams

and the port's smile at the adorned procession.

كَثيرَةَ باغي السَبقِ لَم يُرَ مِثلُها

عَلى عَهدِ إِسماعيلَ ذي الطولِ وَالنالِ

With many seekers of first place, its like was never seen

in the days of Ismail, possessor of wealth and bounty.

لَكِ اللَهُ هَذا الخَطبُ في الوَهمِ لَم يَقَع

وَتِلكَ المَنايا لَم يَكُنَّ عَلى بالِ

God be with you: this calamity never entered imagination,

nor had those deaths ever crossed the mind.

بَلى كُلُّ ذي نَفسٍ أَخو المَوتِ وَاِبنُهُ

وَإِن جَرَّ أَذيالَ الحَداثَةِ وَالخالِ

Yet every living soul is death's brother and son,

even if he trails the hems of youth and pride.

وَلَيسَ عَجيباً أَن يَموتَ أَخو الصِبا

وَلَكِن عَجيبٌ عَيشُهُ عيشَةَ السالي

It is no wonder that a youth should die;

the wonder is that he lives the life of the heedless.

وَكُلُّ شَبابٍ أَو مَشيبٍ رَهينَةٌ

بِمُعتَرِضٍ مِن حادِثِ الدَهرِ مُغتالِ

All youth or gray-haired age is hostage

to some waylaying, murderous calamity of time.

وَما الشَيبُ مِن خَيلِ العُلا فَاِركَبِ الصِبا

إِلى المَجدِ تَركَب مَتنَ أَقدَرِ جَوّالِ

Gray age is no steed of greatness: mount youth

toward glory, and you ride the back of the ablest courser.

يَسُنُّ الشَبابُ البَأسَ وَالجودَ لِلفَتى

إِذا الشَيبُ سَنَّ البُخلَ بِالنَفسِ وَالمالِ

Youth prescribes courage and generosity for the young man,

while gray age prescribes stinginess with life and wealth.

وَيا نَشَأَ النيلِ الكَريمِ عَزاءَكُم

وَلا تَذكروا الأَقدارَ إِلّا بِإِجمالِ

O youth of the noble Nile, take comfort,

and speak of fate only with grace.

فَهَذا هُوَ الحَقُّ الَّذي لا يَرُدُّهُ

تَأَفُّفُ قالٍ أَو تَلَطُّفُ مُحتالُ

This is the truth that cannot be turned back

by a hater's grumbling or a schemer's cajoling.

عَلَيكُم لِواءَ العِلمِ فَالفَوزُ تَحتَهُ

وَلَيسَ إِذا الأَعلامُ خانَت بِخَذّالِ

Hold fast to learning's banner: victory lies beneath it,

and it will not desert you when other banners betray.

إِذا مالَ صَفٌّ فَاِخلُفوهُ بِآخَرٍ

وَصَولِ مَساعٍ لا مَلولٍ وَلا آلِ

If one rank falters, replace it with another,

achieving its aims, neither weary nor remiss.

وَلا يَصلُحُ الفِتيانُ لا عِلمَ عِندَهُم

وَلا يَجمَعونَ الأَمرَ أَنصافَ جُهّالِ

Young men are not fit if they have no knowledge,

nor can half-ignorant men master affairs.

وَلَيسَ لَهُم زادٌ إِذا ما تَزَوَّدوا

بَياناً جُزافَ الكَيلِ كَالحَشَفِ البالي

They have no provision if they stock themselves

with haphazardly measured rhetoric, like stale, shriveled dates.

إِذا جَزِعَ الفِتيانُ في وَقعِ حادِثٍ

فَمَن لِجَليلِ الأَمرِ أَو مُعضِلِ الحالِ

If young men lose heart when calamity strikes,

who will face great undertakings or a difficult plight?

وَلَولا مَعانٍ في الفِدى لَم تُعانِهِ

نُفوسُ الحَوارِيّينَ أَو مُهَجُ الآلِ

Were there no meanings in self-sacrifice, it would not have been endured

by the apostles' souls or the hearts of the Prophet's family.

فَغَنّوا بِهاتيكَ المَصارِعِ بَينَكُم

تَرَنُّمَ أَبطالٍ بِأَيّامِ أَبطالِ

So sing among yourselves of those deaths,

as heroes chant of the battle-days of heroes.

أَلَستُم بَني القَومِ الَّذينَ تَكَبَّروا

عَلى الضَرَباتِ السَبعِ في الأَبَدِ الخالي

Are you not sons of the people who rose proudly

above the seven blows in the bygone ages?

رُدِدتُم إِلى فِرعَونَ جَدّاً وَرُبَّما

رَجَعتُم لِعَمٍّ في القَبائِلِ أَو خالِ

You have been traced back to Pharaoh as a forefather, and perhaps

you trace your line to a paternal uncle among the tribes, or a maternal uncle.