الجُلُّthe mighty مودٍperishing وَلاand no جُلمودَboulder يَترُكُهُspares it
الجُلُّ مودٍ وَلا جُلمودَ يَترُكُهُ
رَيبُvicissitudes of الزَمانِtime فَأَنّىso how يخلُدُlives forever القَزَمُthe dwarf
رَيبُ الزَمانِ فَأَنّى يخلُدُ القَزَمُ
The mighty perish, and no boulder is spared
The sand dunes yield but leave no trace behind,
by time's vicissitudes—how, then, can the dwarf live forever?
How can a short-lived thing claim immortality?
شَدَّتcharged عَلَيهُمupon them مَناياهُمtheir deaths تُوَسِّطُهُمcleave them in two
شَدَّت عَلَيهُم مَناياهُم تُوَسِّطُهُم
كَالخَيلِlike horses شُدَّتwere tightened عَلىaround أَوساطِهاtheir middles الحُزُمُthe girths
كَالخَيلِ شُدَّت عَلى أَوساطِها الحُزُمُ
Their deaths charge upon them, cleaving them in two,
Death took them suddenly in their prime,
like horses with girths drawn tight around their middles.
Like belts tightened around the horses' bellies.
لاdo not تَسأَلواbeg from الناسَpeople وَاِغدواand go forth آكِليeaters of مَقِرٍbitter aloes
لا تَسأَلوا الناسَ وَاِغدوا آكِلي مَقِرٍ
إِنَّindeed النُفوسَsouls عَلىin إِمساكِهاtheir withholding عُزُمُresolute
إِنَّ النُفوسَ عَلى إِمساكِها عُزُمُ
Do not beg from people; go forth eating bitter aloes.
Do not ask people for favors, but go and earn your bread,
For souls are resolute in their withholding.
Souls are determined to withhold their giving.
لَعَلَّperhaps أَربابَowners of أَيدٍhands لِلنَدىfor generosity بُسِطَتwere outstretched
لَعَلَّ أَربابَ أَيدٍ لِلنَدى بُسِطَت
يَومَon the day of الحِسابِreckoning عَلىupon أَيديهِمُtheir hands أُزُمُbiters
يَومَ الحِسابِ عَلى أَيديهِمُ أُزُمُ
Perhaps those whose hands were outstretched in generosity
Perhaps generous hands were outstretched,
will bite their own hands on the Day of Reckoning.
On Judgement Day, their palms will show the marks.
لاno وِردَwatering-place ليfor me وَالمَطاياand the mounts فيin خَزائِمِهاtheir nose-rings
لا وِردَ لي وَالمَطايا في خَزائِمِها
وَكُلُّand every صاحِبِpossessor of سِنٍّyears حَبلُهُhis rope خَزَمُkhazam-tree fibre
وَكُلُّ صاحِبِ سِنٍّ حَبلُهُ خَزَمُ
I have no watering-place, while the mounts are in their nose-rings,
My camels have no bridles or saddlebags,
and every aged person's rope is of khazam-tree fibre.
Each old man's rope frays out.
ماwhat ليis with me أَرىI see حُزَماءَthe prudent among الناسِpeople فيin شَرقٍchoking distress
ما لي أَرى حُزَماءَ الناسِ في شَرقٍ
كَأَنَّماas though الحَزمُprudence فيin أَحشائِهِمtheir entrails حَزَمُchoking pain
كَأَنَّما الحَزمُ في أَحشائِهِم حَزَمُ
Why do I see the prudent among people choking,
Why do I see the wise men of the East downcast
as though prudence were a choking pain in their entrails?
As if wisdom itself lies crushed inside them?
ياO نِسوَةَwomen of الحَيِّthe tribe إِنif كُنتُنَّyou women are أَظبِيَةًgazelles
يا نِسوَةَ الحَيِّ إِن كُنتُنَّ أَظبِيَةً
فَكُلُّكُنَّthen all of you women يَصيدُhunts الخادِرُthe lair-dwelling الرُزَمُgrowling lion
فَكُلُّكُنَّ يَصيدُ الخادِرُ الرُزَمُ
O women of the tribe, if you are gazelles,
O women of the camp, if you are gazelles,
the lair-dwelling, growling lion hunts you all.
Then which of you can escape the clever hunter?
كُثَيِّرٌKuthayyir أَناI فيin حَرفيmy rhyme-letter أَهَبتُcalled out لَهُto him
كُثَيِّرٌ أَنا في حَرفي أَهَبتُ لَهُ
فيin التاءِthe letter tāʾ يَلزِمُkeeps to حَرفاًa letter لَيسَdoes not يَلتَزِمُadhere to
في التاءِ يَلزِمُ حَرفاً لَيسَ يَلتَزِمُ
Kuthayyir—in my rhyme I called out to him:
Prolific am I in my art, granting it
with tāʾ he keeps to a letter he is not bound to keep.
A letter needing no other to cling to.
وَالمَرءُand a man يَرفَعُraises أَفعالاًdeeds فَتَخفِضُهُso they lower him
وَالمَرءُ يَرفَعُ أَفعالاً فَتَخفِضُهُ
حَتّىuntil إِذاwhen ماتَhe dies أَضحىhe becomes وَهوَand he is مُنجَزِمُcut off
حَتّى إِذا ماتَ أَضحى وَهوَ مُنجَزِمُ
And a man raises deeds, but they bring him low,
A man raises up actions only to be brought down by them,
until, when he dies, he ends up cut off.
Until, when he dies, he becomes completely broken.
Sol 6.1