أَسِحرٌis it magic? قَدindeed سَرىstole forth مِنfrom جيدِthe neck of ريمِa gazelle
أَسِحرٌ قَد سَرى مِن جيدِ ريمِ
أَمِor العَرفُthe fragrance الأَريجُsweet-scented مِنَfrom النَسيمِthe breeze
أَمِ العَرفُ الأَريجُ مِنَ النَسيمِ
Is it magic that has stolen forth from a gazelle's neck,
A magic has spread from Rima's cheek,
Or the sweet fragrance from the breeze,
Is it the fragrant ginger breeze or a soft wisp?
أَمor الشِعرُthe poetry الَّذيthat قَدindeed رَقَّgrew subtle مَعنىًin meaning
أَم الشِعرُ الَّذي قَد رَقَّ مَعنىً
وَأَضحىand became فِتنَةَan enchantment for العَقلَthe mind السَليمِsound
وَأَضحى فِتنَةَ العَقلَ السَليمِ
Or the poetry that has grown subtle in meaning
Or is it the poetry whose meaning has softened,
And become an enchantment for the sound mind?
And become the seduction of the sound mind?
نَعَمyes دُرّpearls of البَلاغَةِeloquence قَدindeed تَبَدّىappeared
نَعَم دُرّ البَلاغَةِ قَد تَبَدّى
بجيدِon the neck of الطرسthe parchment فيin عِقدٍa necklace نَظيمِfinely strung
بجيدِ الطرس في عِقدٍ نَظيمِ
Yes, the pearls of eloquence have appeared
Yes, the pearl of eloquence has appeared,
On the neck of the parchment, in a finely strung necklace.
On the neck of the statue in an orderly composition.
وَأَرهَفَand sharpened حُسنُهُits beauty طَبعاa poetic gift بَليداdull
وَأَرهَفَ حُسنُهُ طَبعا بَليدا
يُجاذِبُهُdraws it لِمَعنيtoward a meaning مُستقيمِsound
يُجاذِبُهُ لِمَعني مُستقيمِ
And its beauty has sharpened a dull poetic gift,
And its beauty has sharpened a dull nature,
Drawing it toward a sound meaning.
Engaging it towards a straight meaning.
وَلَولاand were it not for ذاكَthat لَمnot يُهزَزbe stirred يَراعيmy reed pen
وَلَولا ذاكَ لَم يُهزَز يَراعي
وَماand not ريئَتwere seen نَتائِجُoffspring مِنfrom عَقيمِa barren one
وَما ريئَت نَتائِجُ مِن عَقيمِ
And but for that, my reed pen would not have stirred,
Without it, the shepherd would not be stirred,
Nor would any offspring have been seen from a barren one.
Nor would fruitless results be seen.
فَياso, O مَنone who شِعرُهُhis poetry أَضحىhas become لِذَهنيfor my mind
فَيا مَن شِعرُهُ أَضحى لِذَهني
كَنورِlike the light of البَدرِthe full moon لِلَّيلِfor the night البَهيمِpitch-dark
كَنورِ البَدرِ لِلَّيلِ البَهيمِ
So, O you whose poetry has become for my mind
So you whose poetry has become to my mind,
Like the full moon's light for the pitch-dark night,
Like the full moon's light to the desolate night.
توافيِكَreaches you التَحيَّةُthe greeting ماas long as تَغَنّىsings
توافيِكَ التَحيَّةُ ما تَغَنّى
حَمامُthe doves of الدَوحِthe great trees فيon غُصنٍa bough قَويمِstraight
حَمامُ الدَوحِ في غُصنٍ قَويمِ
May greetings reach you for as long as
I send you greetings for as long as the pigeons,
The doves of the great trees sing upon a straight bough.
Coo in the upright branch.
Sol 6.1