تَدِبُّcreeps دَبيبَthe creeping of النارِfire وَالهَمُّand sorrow فَحمُهاits charcoal
تَدِبُّ دَبيبَ النارِ وَالهَمُّ فَحمُها
أَلَمhave ... not? تَرَهاyou seen it يَومَthe day of الحِمامِdeath تُرَمَّدُis reduced to ash
أَلَم تَرَها يَومَ الحِمامِ تُرَمَّدُ
It creeps as fire creeps, and sorrow is its charcoal.
The crawling of the fire's bug and its pressing worry
Have you not seen it reduced to ash on the day of death?
Don't you see it on the day of zeal being dust-covered?
وَكُنتُand I was عَهِدتُI had known النارَfire تَعلوrises وَهَذِهِand this one
وَكُنتُ عَهِدتُ النارَ تَعلو وَهَذِهِ
تُحَيّيgreets وُجوهَthe faces of الشارِبينَthe drinkers وَتَسجُدُand prostrates itself
تُحَيّي وُجوهَ الشارِبينَ وَتَسجُدُ
And I had known fire to rise, yet this one
I was used to the fire rising high but this one
Greets the drinkers' faces and prostrates itself.
Revives the faces of the drinkers and bows down
إِذاwhen رَكَعَbows الإِبريقُthe pitcher أَذرىsheds دُموعَهُits tears
إِذا رَكَعَ الإِبريقُ أَذرى دُموعَهُ
وَهَلand does ...? يُنكِرُdeny الظَلماءَthe darkness مَنone who يَتَهَجَّدُprays at night
وَهَل يُنكِرُ الظَلماءَ مَن يَتَهَجَّدُ
When the pitcher bows, it sheds its tears.
When the pitcher kneels, its tears flow
And does one who prays by night deny the darkness?
Does the darkness deny one who becomes emotional?
إِذاwhen الطَيرُthe birds وَالعيدانُand the lutes فيهاwithin it تَجاوَبَتanswered one another
إِذا الطَيرُ وَالعيدانُ فيها تَجاوَبَت
عَجِبتُI marveled مِنَat الجُدرانِthe walls لِمَwhy لاnot تُغَرِّدُthey warble
عَجِبتُ مِنَ الجُدرانِ لِمَ لا تُغَرِّدُ
When the birds and lutes within it answer one another,
When the birds and snakes in it converse
I marvel at the walls: why do they not warble?
I wonder why the walls do not chirp
أَبَتit refused كاسِياas a covering أَنto تَلبَسَwear اللَيلَthe night أَسوَداًblack
أَبَت كاسِيا أَن تَلبَسَ اللَيلَ أَسوَداً
وَلاnor الهَمَّsorrow إِنَّindeed الهَمَّsorrow كَاللَيلِlike the night أَسوَدُblack
وَلا الهَمَّ إِنَّ الهَمَّ كَاللَيلِ أَسوَدُ
It refused to wear the night as a black covering,
My cup refused to wear the night black
Nor sorrow, for sorrow, like the night, is black.
No, worry is just like the night, black
وَباشَرَand touched أَسرارَthe secrets of النُفوسِsouls كَبيرُهاtheir chief
وَباشَرَ أَسرارَ النُفوسِ كَبيرُها
عَلىin حالَتَيهِhis two states إِذاwhen تَذوبُthey melt وَتَجمُدُand freeze
عَلى حالَتَيهِ إِذا تَذوبُ وَتَجمُدُ
And their chief has touched the secrets of souls,
And it probed the secrets of souls, their great one
In both his states, as they melt and freeze.
In both states when it melts and freezes
Sol 6.1