خُذِtake الكَأْسَthe cup مِنّيfrom me أيُّهاO الرَّشَأُthe gazelle fawn الأَحْوىdark-hued
خُذِ الكَأْسَ مِنّي أيُّها الرَّشَأُ الأَحْوى
وَشِمْand behold نَظَراًa glance يَصْحوgrows sober مِنَfrom المُقْلَةِthe eye النَّشْوىdrunken
وَشِمْ نَظَراً يَصْحو مِنَ المُقْلَةِ النَّشْوى
Take the cup from me, O dusky fawn,
Take the cup from me, O destiny long foretold,
And behold a sober glance from the drunken eye.
And gaze with eyes awakening from slumber.
فَلِلْأَمَدِfor, toward the goal الأَدْنىnearer سَمَتْrose بِكَwith you هِمَّةٌan ambition
فَلِلْأَمَدِ الأَدْنى سَمَتْ بِكَ هِمَّةٌ
وَليand I have هِمَّةٌan ambition تَسْموrises إِلىto الغايَةِthe goal القُصْوىfarthest
وَلي هِمَّةٌ تَسْمو إِلى الغايَةِ القُصْوى
For an ambition has raised you to the nearer goal,
For the nearer goal your purpose was set,
And I have an ambition that rises to the farthest goal.
While my purpose soars to the ultimate aim.
أَناI ابْنُson of سُراةِthe nobles of الحَيِّthe tribe مِنْfrom فَرْعِthe branch of غالبٍGhalib
أَنا ابْنُ سُراةِ الحَيِّ مِنْ فَرْعِ غالبٍ
أَرىI see فيهِمُin them مِنْof تالدِancestral المَجْدِglory ماwhat أَهْوىI love
أَرى فيهِمُ مِنْ تالدِ المَجْدِ ما أَهْوى
I am a son of the tribe's nobles, from Ghalib's branch;
I am the son of the dwellers in valour abode,
I see in them the ancestral glory that I love.
From a branch of glorious ancestry.
وَأَطْلُبُand I seek أَمْراًa goal حالَintervened بَيْنيbetween me وَبَيْنَهُand between it
وَأَطْلُبُ أَمْراً حالَ بَيْني وَبَيْنَهُ
زَمانٌan age نَبانيspurned me وَامْتَعَضْتُand I grew indignant مِنَat الشّكْوىcomplaint
زَمانٌ نَباني وَامْتَعَضْتُ مِنَ الشّكْوى
And I seek a goal, but between me and it has stood
I see in them that which my spirit desires,
An age that spurned me, and I am vexed by complaint.
Though an age has come between me and it.
فَياso, O سَعْدُSa'd ناولنيhand me السُّرَيْجِيَّthe Surayji sword إِنَّهُindeed it
فَيا سَعْدُ ناولني السُّرَيْجِيَّ إِنَّهُ
شَكاcomplained of ظَمَأًthirst بَرْحاًgrievous وقدand already حانthe time has come أَنْto يَرْوَىit drinks its fill
شَكا ظَمَأً بَرْحاً وقد حان أَنْ يَرْوَى
So, O Sa'd, hand me the Surayji sword, for it
So pass me the charger for it complains of thirst,
Has complained of grievous thirst, and now it is time for it to drink its fill.
And the time is due that it should be watered.
وَقَرِّبْand bring near جَواديmy steed وَانْشُرِand unfold الدِّرْعَthe coat of mail إِنَّهاindeed it
وَقَرِّبْ جَوادي وَانْشُرِ الدِّرْعَ إِنَّها
إِذاwhen الحَرْبُwar حَكَّتْrubbed بَرْكَهاits breast بِيَagainst me لاnot تُطْوىis folded
إِذا الحَرْبُ حَكَّتْ بَرْكَها بِيَ لا تُطْوى
And bring my steed near and unfold the coat of mail, for it
Bring forth my steed and unfold the coat of mail,
Will not be folded away when war rubs its breast against me.
For if war whistles its leash cannot be tied.
سَتَعْلَمُyou will know إِنْif قَرَّطْتُI draped over the ears of طِرْفِيmy steed عِنانَهُits reins
سَتَعْلَمُ إِنْ قَرَّطْتُ طِرْفِي عِنانَهُ
مَنِwho الأَشِرُthe insolent one الرَّوَّاعُthe easily frightened one وَالمَرِسُand the seasoned fighter الألْوىunyielding
مَنِ الأَشِرُ الرَّوَّاعُ وَالمَرِسُ الألْوى
You will know, if I drape my steed's reins over its ears,
You will know if I pluck its rein to advance,
Who is the insolent coward, and who the seasoned, unyielding fighter.
Who is the intrepid hero, and who the proven warrior.
Sol 6.1