نَواقيسُbells المَساءِthe evening وَماand how أُحيَلىvery sweet
نَواقيسُ المَساءِ وَما أُحيَلى
إِذاwhen طَنَّتring نَواقيسُbells المَساءِthe evening
إِذا طَنَّت نَواقيسُ المَساءِ
The evening bells—how sweet they are
Bells of Evening and how lovely their chime,
when the evening bells ring!
When Bells of Evening start to softly chime,
فَكَمfor how many مِنof قِصَّةٍa tale قَدindeed أَنشَدتُهاI have sung it
فَكَم مِن قِصَّةٍ قَد أَنشَدتُها
وَتُنشِدُand they sing بَعدَafter حَينيmy death وَالفَناءِand annihilation
وَتُنشِدُ بَعدَ حَيني وَالفَناءِ
For many a tale have I sung,
How many a tale that I have sung before,
and they will sing after my death and annihilation.
Shall sing again when I'm no more, no more.
سَيَبقىwill endure لَحنُهاtheir melody الداويresounding سَيَبقىwill endure
سَيَبقى لَحنُها الداوي سَيَبقى
يُجَلجِلُrings out كُلَّevery يَومٍday فيin الفَضاءِthe open air
يُجَلجِلُ كُلَّ يَومٍ في الفَضاءِ
Their resounding melody will endure—will endure,
Their lingering melody will onward flow,
ringing out every day in the open air.
Each day it echoes, echoing as they go,
وَيَعبُرُand will cross هذِهِthese الوَهداتِhollows غَيريothers than me
وَيَعبُرُ هذِهِ الوَهداتِ غَيري
مِنَfrom among الشُعَراءِthe poets رَكبٌa caravan فيin غِناءِsong
مِنَ الشُعَراءِ رَكبٌ في غِناءِ
And others will cross these hollows—
And other bards will cross these barrens lone,
a caravan of poets, singing—
A bardic throng with song and music blown,
يُرَتِّلُchants مَدحَكِyour praise العاليlofty وَيَشدوand sings
يُرَتِّلُ مَدحَكِ العالي وَيَشدو
بِسِحرِكِof your enchantment ياO نَواقيسَbells المَساءِthe evening
بِسِحرِكِ يا نَواقيسَ المَساءِ
chanting your lofty praise and singing
They chant your lofty praise as day grows dim,
of your enchantment, O evening bells.
By magic spell of you, oh Bells of Eve hymn.
Sol 6.1