إِنif أخلَقَتhave worn away هَذِيthese اللَّيَالِيnights خِلقَتِيmy outward form
إِن أخلَقَت هَذِي اللَّيَالِي خِلقَتِي
فَخَلِيقَتِيthen my disposition جَلَّتstands exalted عَنِbeyond الإخلاَقِbeing worn away
فَخَلِيقَتِي جَلَّت عَنِ الإخلاَقِ
If these nights have worn away my outward form,
If these nights have shaped my character
my disposition stands beyond being worn away.
Then my character has strayed far from virtue
إِنif أنظُرِI look at الزُّلُفَاتِmirrors يَوماًone day أنثَنِيI turn away
إِن أنظُرِ الزُّلُفَاتِ يَوماً أنثَنِي
لِتَألُّمِيbecause of my pain بِتَثَلُّمِيat my erosion ومِحَاقِيدand my waning (unclear ending)
لِتَألُّمِي بِتَثَلُّمِي ومِحَاقِيد
If one day I look into mirrors, I turn away,
If I were to look back one day and bend down
pained by my erosion and my waning.
To reminisce and lament over my bygone youth
ولأنand since بَلَغتُI have reached مِنَof المَشِيبِgray-haired age عُتِيَّهُits utmost extremity
ولأن بَلَغتُ مِنَ المَشِيبِ عُتِيَّهُ
لَمnot أنزَجِرI desist وَدَقَاقَةَand the crusher of الأعنَاقِnecks
لَم أنزَجِر وَدَقَاقَةَ الأعنَاقِ
And now that I have reached the utmost of gray-haired age,
Now that I have reached the zenith of old age
I have not desisted, despite the crusher of necks.
I do not flinch from the trembling of my neck
يَاO حَسرَةًregret ذَهبَتhas vanished جُفَاءًlike discarded foam شِرَّتِىmy ardor
يَا حَسرَةً ذَهبَت جُفَاءً شِرَّتِى
وعَوَائِقِىand my hindrances وبَوَائِقِىand my misdeeds بَوَاقِremain
وعَوَائِقِى وبَوَائِقِى بَوَاقِ
Oh, what regret! My ardor has gone like discarded foam,
Oh what a pity, my roughness and harshness are gone
while my hindrances and my misdeeds remain.
Along with my obstacles, solutions, and concord
أفَلَمhad I not then أكُنbeen قَدalready آنَbecome time لِىبfor me (unclear ending) رُجعَىa return إِلَىto
أفَلَم أكُن قَد آنَ لِىب رُجعَى إِلَى
حَقٍّwhat is right يُرَوِّضُtames تَشَزُّرِىmy glaring defiance وإِبَاقِىand my flight
حَقٍّ يُرَوِّضُ تَشَزُّرِى وإِبَاقِى
Had the time not already come for me to return to
Was it not time that I return to
what is right, to tame my glaring defiance and my flight,
A truth that tames my arrogance, defiance and pretense
وَتشُدقِىand my bombast وَتَعمُّقِىand my affected profundity وَتَفَيهُقِىand my pompous speech
وَتشُدقِى وَتَعمُّقِى وَتَفَيهُقِى
وخُشُونَتِىand my harshness ومُلُوحَتِآand my saltiness (unclear ending) وَزُعَاقِىand my bitter brininess
وخُشُونَتِى ومُلُوحَتِآ وَزُعَاقِى
my bombast, my affected profundity, and my pompous speech,
My affectation, delusion, absurdity
my harshness, my saltiness, and my bitter brininess,
My recklessness, salinity, and discord
وبِطَالَتِىand my idleness وإِطَالَتِىand my dwelling at length فيon كُلِّall مَاthat which
وبِطَالَتِى وإِطَالَتِى في كُلِّ مَا
لاَnot يَنبَغِىis fitting وتَوَافُقِىand my agreement وشِقَاقِىand my discord
لاَ يَنبَغِى وتَوَافُقِى وشِقَاقِى
my idleness and my dwelling at length on all that
My idleness, procrastination in all that
is unseemly, my agreement and my discord?
I should not indulge in, my concord and discord
نَفسٌa soul تُسَوِّفُprocrastinates بِالخِلاَفِin defiance خَلِيقَةًby nature
نَفسٌ تُسَوِّفُ بِالخِلاَفِ خَلِيقَةً
مَاnever وَافَقَتhas it agreed فيin الدَّهرِa lifetime قَدرَthe span of فُوَاقِa brief instant
مَا وَافَقَت في الدَّهرِ قَدرَ فُوَاقِ
A soul that procrastinates, defiant by nature,
A soul that defers righteousness
has never agreed, in all its days, for even an instant.
Unlike any other in its destined accord
أخِلاَعَةٌis it wantonness لاَnot تُرتَضَىis approved وبَشَاعَةٌand ugliness
أخِلاَعَةٌ لاَ تُرتَضَى وبَشَاعَةٌ
وإشَاعَةُand publicizing الأَعرَاقِancestries فيamong الأَعرَاقِclans
وإشَاعَةُ الأَعرَاقِ في الأَعرَاقِ
Is it unacceptable wantonness and ugliness,
An abomination that cannot be condoned, an ugliness
and publicizing ancestries among the clans,
That spreads anxiety among all tribes
وإضَاعُةُand squandering الأَعمَالِdeeds وَهَىَand they are بِضَاعَةٌmerchandise
وإضَاعُةُ الأَعمَالِ وَهَىَ بِضَاعَةٌ
لاَnot تُشتَرَىcan be bought بِكَواسِدِwith the unsold wares of الأَسوَاقِthe markets
لاَ تُشتَرَى بِكَواسِدِ الأَسوَاقِ
and squandering deeds, though they are merchandise
And the squandering of deeds, which are merchandise
that cannot be bought with the markets' unsold wares?
That cannot be traded in lavish markets
يَاO لَيتَif only شِعرِىmy knowledge مَاwhat المَصِيرُthe fate إِذَاwhen عَرَاbefalls
يَا لَيتَ شِعرِى مَا المَصِيرُ إِذَا عَرَا
عَرَقُthe sweat of الجَبِينِthe brow لَدَىat لُحُوقِthe arrival of حَلاَقِىmy doom
عَرَقُ الجَبِينِ لَدَى لُحُوقِ حَلاَقِى
Oh, if only I knew my fate when there comes
Oh how I wish I knew what fate awaits
the sweat of the brow, as my doom overtakes me.
When my temple perspires by the barber's blade
أَمor كَيفَhow حَالِىmy state إِذwhen اُكُونُI am بِحُفرَةٍin a pit
أَم كَيفَ حَالِى إِذ اُكُونُ بِحُفرَةٍ
مَهجُورَةٍdeserted بِقَوَاتِمِin the murk of الأَعمَاقِthe depths
مَهجُورَةٍ بِقَوَاتِمِ الأَعمَاقِ
Or how shall I fare when I lie in a pit,
Or how I will be when in a forgotten
deserted in the murk of the depths?
Ditch, at the mercy of the depths
ولقدand indeed أَطَارَsent flying القَلبَthe heart عَنaway from سَكَنَاتِهِits states of repose
ولقد أَطَارَ القَلبَ عَن سَكَنَاتِهِ
فَرَقاًin terror تَطَايُرُthe fluttering of طَائِرِthe bird of الأورَاقِthe pages
فَرَقاً تَطَايُرُ طَائِرِ الأورَاقِ
And indeed, the heart has been sent flying from its repose,
My heart has fluttered away from its dwelling
in terror, by the fluttering of the bird of pages.
Frightened like a bird with fluttering wings
Sol 6.1