قالتshe said قصيدكyour poetry ليلnight .. سودٍblack معانيهits meanings
قالت قصيدك ليل .. سودٍ معانيه
رويانةٍdrenched بالدمعwith tears ... وامدادهاand its ink دمblood
رويانةٍ بالدمع ... وامدادها دم
She said: Your poetry is night, its meanings black,
She said, your poem is a dark night...
Drenched in tears, its ink is blood.
Flowing with tears...and supplied with blood
الىuntil متىwhen ياO شاعرpoet الهمsorrow تخفيهyou hide it
الى متى يا شاعر الهم تخفيه
والىand until متىwhen .. تحنىyou bend ضلوعكyour ribs علىover همsorrow
والى متى .. تحنى ضلوعك على هم
How long, poet, will you hide your sorrow?
For how long, O poet of sorrows, will you hide it?
And how long will you bend your ribs over sorrow?
And for how long will your ribs bend with sorrow?
قلتI said البكاweeping .. صعبٍdifficult عليهfor me وأناand I بيهneed it
قلت البكا .. صعبٍ عليه وأنا بيه
لاah واهنيhow fortunate الليthe one who بكىwept وماand did not تندمregret
لا واهني اللي بكى وما تندم
I said: Weeping is hard for me, though I need it.
I said crying is hard for me, though I am with it
Ah, how fortunate the one who wept and felt no regret.
No, I make weak those who cried and did not regret
ليI have عبرةٍa tear يلعبtoys بهاwith it الحزنgrief والتيهand bewilderment
لي عبرةٍ يلعب بها الحزن والتيه
وليand I have صرخةٍa scream .. واتعبتand I grew weary ابلقىI seek to find لهاfor it فمa mouth
ولي صرخةٍ .. واتعبت ابلقى لها فم
I have a tear that grief and bewilderment toy with.
I have a lesson played with by grief and confusion
And I have a scream; I have worn myself out trying to find it a mouth.
And I have a scream...and my mouth grew tired finding it a mouth
لاno ماnot كتبتI wrote الشعرpoetry .. لحدٍfor anyone بسليهI would entertain him
لا ما كتبت الشعر .. لحدٍ بسليه
ولانيبand I am not مداحٍa praise-poet .. ولاnor باترنمI will sing
ولانيب مداحٍ .. ولا باترنم
No, I did not write poetry to entertain anyone.
No I did not write poetry to someone to entertain him
And I am no praise-poet, nor will I sing.
Nor am I a praising poet, nor did I chant
احساسa feeling لابيعهI do not sell it ولانيبand I am not شاريهbuying it
احساس لابيعه ولانيب شاريه
مرٍsometimes يجيit comes شهدٍhoney ومراتand at times علقمbitter colocynth
مرٍ يجي شهدٍ ومرات علقم
It is a feeling I neither sell nor buy.
A feeling I don't sell nor do I seek a buyer
At times it comes as honey, and at times as bitter colocynth.
Bitter it comes, sweet it comes
الىif لمحتيyou glimpse دمblood جوفيmy depths .. افـthen خليهleave it
الى لمحتي دم جوفي .. افـ خليه
علىالورقon the paper .. لاif صارbecomes روحكyour soul تالمaches
علىالورق .. لا صار روحك تالم
If you glimpse the blood within me, then leave it
Until I saw the blood of my insides - leave it
On the paper, if your soul aches.
On paper..it did not become your soul in pain
قلتI composed الشعرpoetry يومbecause إنthat ليfor me .. راحةٍcomfort فيهin it
قلت الشعر يوم إن لي .. راحةٍ فيه
وحزينand sad أناI .. إلىuntil متىwhen .. اللهGod يعلمknows
وحزين أنا .. إلى متى .. الله يعلم
I composed poetry because I find comfort in it.
I said poetry is for me a comfort in it
And I am sad—for how long, God knows.
And sad am I..until when..God knows
Sol 6.1