أَلاOh لَيتَwould that أُمّيmy mother لَمhad not تَلِدنيborne me سَوِيَّةًwhole
أَلا لَيتَ أُمّي لَم تَلِدني سَوِيَّةً
وَكُنتُand I had been تُراباًdust بَينَbetween أَيديthe hands of القَوابِلِthe midwives
وَكُنتُ تُراباً بَينَ أَيدي القَوابِلِ
Oh, would that my mother had not borne me whole,
Alas, would that my mother had not given birth to me perfectly formed,
And I had been dust between the midwives’ hands,
And that I were but dust amid the hands of midwives.
وَخَرَّتand had crashed down عَلىupon الأَرضِthe earth السَماءُthe sky فَطَبَّقَتthen covered it
وَخَرَّت عَلى الأَرضِ السَماءُ فَطَبَّقَت
وَماتَand had died جَميعاًall together كُلُّevery حافٍbarefoot person وَناعِلِand shod person
وَماتَ جَميعاً كُلُّ حافٍ وَناعِلِ
And the sky had crashed onto the earth and covered it,
Would that the sky might cave upon the earth and flatten it,
And all had died together, barefoot and shod alike,
And that all things, even fates, might perish.
غَداةَon the morning when غَداcame in the morning ناعٍa herald of death لِصَخرٍof Sakhr فَراعَنيand terrified me
غَداةَ غَدا ناعٍ لِصَخرٍ فَراعَني
وَأَورَثَنيand bequeathed me حُزناًgrief طَويلَlong-lasting البَلابِلِanguish
وَأَورَثَني حُزناً طَويلَ البَلابِلِ
On the morning a herald came with news of Sakhr’s death and terrified me,
One morn a stone-carrier sang out, startling me,
And bequeathed me grief with enduring anguish.
And saddening me with a long, drawn-out melody,
فَقُلتُso I said لَهُto him ماذاwhat تَقولُare you saying فَقالَthen he said ليto me
فَقُلتُ لَهُ ماذا تَقولُ فَقالَ لي
نَعىannounced a death ماparticle of unclear function here اِبنِson of عَمروٍAmr أَثكَلَتهُmay they bereave him هَوابِليmy bereaved women
نَعى ما اِبنِ عَمروٍ أَثكَلَتهُ هَوابِلي
So I said to him, “What are you saying?” He said to me:
I asked him, “What do you say?” And he said to me,
“Amr’s son is dead!”—may my bereaved women bring him bereavement!
“I lament what the son of ‘Amr – misfortunes consumed him.”
فَأَصبَحتُso I became لاnot أَلتَذُّtake pleasure in بَعدَكَafter you نِعمَةًany blessing
فَأَصبَحتُ لا أَلتَذُّ بَعدَكَ نِعمَةً
حَياتيthroughout my life وَلاnor أَبكيweep لِدَعوَةِat the cry of ثاكِلِone bereaved
حَياتي وَلا أَبكي لِدَعوَةِ ثاكِلِ
So, after you, I take no pleasure in any blessing
So now, after you, I take no joy in life’s pleasures,
Throughout my life, nor weep at a bereaved one’s cry.
Nor in living, nor in the call of a reproacher.
فَشَأنَso let them have their way المَناياthe fates of death بِالأَقارِبِwith the kin بَعدَهُafter him
فَشَأنَ المَنايا بِالأَقارِبِ بَعدَهُ
لِتُعلِلlet it drink again عَلَيهِمupon them عَلَّةٌa second draught بَعدَafter ناهِلِa first-draught drinker
لِتُعلِل عَلَيهِم عَلَّةٌ بَعدَ ناهِلِ
So let death have its way with kin after him,
It is the way of death to take away loved ones,
Let it drink from them again, a second draught after the first.
And so bring illness upon them, after one who gives to drink.
Sol 6.1