لقدindeed ضجرتُI have grown weary منَof الدنياthe world، وماyet not ضَجِرَتْit has grown weary
لقد ضجرتُ منَ الدنيا، وما ضَجِرَتْ
للآنَto this day تُحرقُنيburn me فيهاin it الأخاديدُthe furrows
للآنَ تُحرقُني فيها الأخاديدُ
I have grown weary of the world, yet it has not grown weary.
I'm weary of this world, though it is not weary of me;
To this day, the furrows within it burn me.
Now in it, desires burn me up like glowing coals.
كأنّنيas though I were غُصّةٌa choking lump فيin صدرِthe chest of مُغتَربٍan exile
كأنّني غُصّةٌ في صدرِ مُغتَربٍ
يمشيhe walks بأُبَّهَةٍwith grandeur.. والحَيْلُand the strength مهدودُspent!
يمشي بأُبَّهَةٍ.. والحَيْلُ مهدودُ!
As though I were a choking lump in an exile’s chest,
I'm like a lump in the breast of an exile far from home
Who walks with grandeur... yet his strength is spent!
Who wanders idly with no tricks left up his sleeve!
Sol 6.1