بِحِكمَةِby the wisdom of خالِقيmy Creator طَيّيmy folding وَنَشريand my unfolding
بِحِكمَةِ خالِقي طَيّي وَنَشري
وَلَيسَand is not بِمُعجِزِbeyond the power of الخُلّاقِthe Creator حَشريmy resurrection
وَلَيسَ بِمُعجِزِ الخُلّاقِ حَشري
By my Creator's wisdom come my folding and unfolding;
and raising me is not beyond the Creator's power.
وَقَدand indeed رَفَقَwas gentle الَّذيthe one who أَوصىenjoined أُناساًpeople
وَقَد رَفَقَ الَّذي أَوصى أُناساً
بِعُشرٍa tenth فيin الزَكاةِalmsgiving وَنِصفِand half of عُشرِa tenth
بِعُشرٍ في الزَكاةِ وَنِصفِ عُشرِ
Kind indeed was he who enjoined people
to give a tenth in alms, and half a tenth.
إِذاif رَشِرَتbecame grasping أَكُفٌّhands مِنof رِجالٍmen
إِذا رَشِرَت أَكُفٌّ مِن رِجالٍ
فَماthen how أَولىdeserving أَنامِلَهُمtheir fingertips بِأَشرِof sawing
فَما أَولى أَنامِلَهُم بِأَشرِ
If men's hands become grasping,
how their fingertips deserve the saw!
أُحِبُّكِI love you أَيُّهاO الدُنِّياworld كَغَيريlike others
أُحِبُّكِ أَيُّها الدُنِّيا كَغَيري
وَأَشرانيand has enraged me قِلاكِyour hatred وَلَستُand I am not أُشريgiven to rage
وَأَشراني قِلاكِ وَلَستُ أُشري
I love you, O world, like others;
and your hatred has enraged me, though I am not prone to rage.
وَنَهوىand we long for العَيشَlife فيكِin you مَعَwith الرَزاياcalamities
وَنَهوى العَيشَ فيكِ مَعَ الرَزايا
وَماand whatever طَوَّلتِyou have prolonged مِنof خِمسٍa five-day watering cycle وَعِشرِand a ten-day watering cycle
وَما طَوَّلتِ مِن خِمسٍ وَعِشرِ
We long for life in you, despite calamities
and the five- and ten-day watering cycles you prolong.
وَهَذاand this الدَهرُage بَشَّرَbrought glad tidings بِالمَناياof deaths
وَهَذا الدَهرُ بَشَّرَ بِالمَنايا
فَلِمso why فَرِحَتdid she rejoice بِبَشرٍin a mortal أُمُّthe mother of بِشرِBishr
فَلِم فَرِحَت بِبَشرٍ أُمُّ بِشرِ
And this age has brought glad tidings of death;
why, then, did Bishr's mother rejoice in a mortal?
تَخوّنَwore away أَربَعيmy four وَمَضىand carried away بِخَمسيmy five
تَخوّنَ أَربَعي وَمَضى بِخَمسي
وَأَعلَقَand hung فيin حِبالِthe cords of الشَمسِthe sun عَشريmy ten
وَأَعلَقَ في حِبالِ الشَمسِ عَشري
It wore away my four and carried off my five,
and hung my ten upon the sun's cords.
سُطورٌlines نَحنُwe نَكتُبُهاwrite them لَيالٍnights
سُطورٌ نَحنُ نَكتُبُها لَيالٍ
مَداهاtheir span كَالمُدىlike knives غَرِيَتbecame intent بِقَشرِon stripping
مَداها كَالمُدى غَرِيَت بِقَشرِ
The lines we write are nights;
their span is like knives intent on stripping.
Sol 6.1