هِيَit is النَّفْسُthe soul فيin مَسْتَنْقَعِthe mire of المَوْتِdeath تَبْرُكُkneels
هِيَ النَّفْسُ في مَسْتَنْقَعِ المَوْتِ تَبْرُكُ
وَتَأْخُذُand take مِنْهاfrom it النّائِباتُcalamities وَتَتْرُكُand leave behind
وَتَأْخُذُ مِنْها النّائِباتُ وَتَتْرُكُ
It is the soul that kneels in death's mire,
and calamities take from it and leave some behind.
فَلاso no الطَّمَعُgreed المُزْريdegrading بِهاto it يَسْتَفِزُّنِيimpels me
فَلا الطَّمَعُ المُزْري بِها يَسْتَفِزُّنِي
وَلاnor الضَّيْمُhumiliation مُذْsince عَزَّتْit grew proud بِجَنْبَيَّwithin my sides يُعْرَكُis endured
وَلا الضَّيْمُ مُذْ عَزَّتْ بِجَنْبَيَّ يُعْرَكُ
So no greed that debases it impels me,
nor do I endure humiliation, since it grew proud within my breast.
وَأَسْعىand I strive فَقَدْfor indeed أَيْقَنْتُI have become certain أَنَّthat مَآربيmy aims
وَأَسْعى فَقَدْ أَيْقَنْتُ أَنَّ مَآربي
إِذَاif سَاعَدَlends help المِقْدارُfate بِالسَّعْيthrough striving تُدْرَكُare attained
إِذَا سَاعَدَ المِقْدارُ بِالسَّعْي تُدْرَكُ
And I strive, for I am certain that my aims,
if fate lends its aid, are attained through striving.
وَليand I have عَزَماتٌfirm resolves يَعْلَمُknows القِرْنُthe adversary أَنَّهاthat they
وَلي عَزَماتٌ يَعْلَمُ القِرْنُ أَنَّها
بِهِagainst him قَبْلَbefore تَجْريدِunsheathing الصَّوارِمِthe keen swords تَفْتكُstrike fatally
بِهِ قَبْلَ تَجْريدِ الصَّوارِمِ تَفْتكُ
And I have firm resolves my adversary knows
will slay him before the keen swords are drawn.
سَأَجْنيI shall reap حُروباًwars تُتَقَّىare shunned غَمَراتُهاtheir engulfing perils
سَأَجْني حُروباً تُتَقَّى غَمَراتُها
وَتُحْقَنُand is spared فيهنَّin them الدِّماءِblood وَتُسْفَكُand is shed
وَتُحْقَنُ فيهنَّ الدِّماءِ وَتُسْفَكُ
I shall reap wars whose engulfing perils are shunned,
and in them blood is spared and shed.
وَأَسْكُنُand I remain still وَالأقْدامُwhile the feet بَعْدَafter ثُبُوتِهاtheir firm footing
وَأَسْكُنُ وَالأقْدامُ بَعْدَ ثُبُوتِها
تَزِلُّslip وَأَطْرافُand the tips of القناthe spears تَتَحَرَّكُmove
تَزِلُّ وَأَطْرافُ القنا تَتَحَرَّكُ
And I stand still while feet, once firmly planted,
slip, and the tips of spears move.
وَفيand in كُلِّevery فَوْدٍtemple للسُّرَيْجيِّfor the Surayji sword مَضْرِبٌa striking-place
وَفي كُلِّ فَوْدٍ للسُّرَيْجيِّ مَضْرِبٌ
وَكُلُّand every فُؤادٍheart لِلرُّدَيْنيِّfor the Rudayni spear مَسْلَكُa passage
وَكُلُّ فُؤادٍ لِلرُّدَيْنيِّ مَسْلَكُ
And in every temple is a place for the Surayji sword to strike,
and every heart is a passage for the Rudayni spear,
بِحَيثُwhere تَغِيبُvanish الخَيْلُthe horses فيin رَهَجِthe dust of الْوَغَىbattle
بِحَيثُ تَغِيبُ الخَيْلُ في رَهَجِ الْوَغَى
وَتَبْدوand appear وَبِيضُwhile the white swords الهِنْدِof India تَبْكيweep وَتَضْحَكُand laugh
وَتَبْدو وَبِيضُ الهِنْدِ تَبْكي وَتَضْحَكُ
where the horses vanish in the dust of battle
and emerge, while India's white swords weep and laugh.
أَيَمضِيshall ... pass? الشَّبابُyouth الغَضُّtender قَبْلَbefore وَقَائِعٍbattles
أَيَمضِي الشَّبابُ الغَضُّ قَبْلَ وَقَائِعٍ
يَكادُalmost حِجابُthe veil of الشَّمسِthe sun فيهنَّin them يُهْتَكُis torn apart
يَكادُ حِجابُ الشَّمسِ فيهنَّ يُهْتَكُ
Shall tender youth pass away before battles
in which the sun's veil is almost torn apart?
فَلَسْتُthen I am not ابْنَthe son of أُمِّmother of المَجدِglory إِنْif أُغْمدِI sheathe الظُّباthe sword-edges
فَلَسْتُ ابْنَ أُمِّ المَجدِ إِنْ أُغْمدِ الظُّبا
وَغَيْريwhile someone other than me بِأَذْيالِto the hems of العُلاeminence يَتَمَسَّكُclings
وَغَيْري بِأَذْيالِ العُلا يَتَمَسَّكُ
Then I am no son of Umm al-Majd if I sheathe the blades
while another clings to the hems of eminence.
Sol 6.1