لَقَدindeed ماتَhas died جَنِيُّthe jinn الصِباyouth مُنذُsince بُرهَةٍa span of time
لَقَد ماتَ جَنِيُّ الصِبا مُنذُ بُرهَةٍ
وَتَأبىyet refuse عِفارِيَthe demons القَلبِof the heart غَيرَanything other than مَرودِdefiance
وَتَأبى عِفارِيَ القَلبِ غَيرَ مَرودِ
Indeed, the jinn of youth died some time ago;
The youth of springtime died long ago
yet the heart's demons accept nothing but defiance.
And my heart refuses all but grief's return
أَمَرَّتhas turned bitter وَأَمرَتand commanded أُمُّMother دَفرٍof Stench وَإِنeven if حَلَتshe tastes sweet
أَمَرَّت وَأَمرَت أُمُّ دَفرٍ وَإِن حَلَت
فَكَمfor how many حَلَأَتshe drove away from water قَوماًa people غَداةَon the morning of وَرودِcoming to water
فَكَم حَلَأَت قَوماً غَداةَ وَرودِ
Mother of Stench has turned bitter and commanded, even when sweet;
Time passed, time passed, though the mother of exile slowed it
for how many a people has she driven back on the morning they came to water!
How often has it revived a folk come the morrow of departure?
شرِبتُI drank بُروداًcooling water لَمdid not يَدَعleave نارَthe fire of غُلَّةٍburning thirst
شرِبتُ بُروداً لَم يَدَع نارَ غُلَّةٍ
وَعَنand from مَنكِبيmy shoulder أَلقَيتُI cast off خَيرَthe finest of بُرودِcloaks
وَعَن مَنكِبي أَلقَيتُ خَيرَ بُرودِ
I drank cooling water that left no fire of thirst,
I drank a draught that left no burning thirst
and cast the finest cloaks off my shoulder.
And from my shoulder cast the best of cloaks
فَإِنَfor indeed قتَيرَthe white flecks الشَيبِof grey hair لَمdid not يَحمِprotect جانِباًa flank
فَإِنَ قتَيرَ الشَيبِ لَم يَحمِ جانِباً
فَكانَand so it was بِعَكسٍin contrast مِنto قَتيرٍthe rivets of سَرودِcoats of mail
فَكانَ بِعَكسٍ مِن قَتيرٍ سَرودِ
For the flecks of grey hair protected no flank,
If the scant hoariness of age brought no profit
and so proved unlike the rivets of coats of mail.
It was the opposite of scanty, a streaming flood
أَقيميstay فَإِنّيfor I لاnot رَقيمِيَmy patterned cloth مُعجِبيpleasing me
أَقيمي فَإِنّي لا رَقيمِيَ مُعجِبي
وَروديand roam فَإِنّيfor I لاnot أَهَشُّtake delight لِرُوَدِin wanderers
وَرودي فَإِنّي لا أَهَشُّ لِرُوَدِ
Stay, for my patterned cloth does not delight me;
Raise me up, for I please not those who praise me
and roam, for I take no delight in wanderers.
Turn me back, for I fear not the threat of refusal
أَعَزُّthe mightiest of بَنيthe sons of الدُنِّياthe world بِغَيرِwithout مَذَلَّةٍabasement
أَعَزُّ بَني الدُنِّيا بِغَيرِ مَذَلَّةٍ
مُبينُdisplaying وَجاًfoot-soreness مِنهاfrom her فَقيدُdeprived of شُرودِflight
مُبينُ وَجاً مِنها فَقيدُ شُرودِ
The mightiest of the world's sons, without abasement,
I live nobly in this world without disgrace
is visibly footsore from her, and bereft of flight,
Showing openly a face bound by duty's rein
بِعَقّاقَةٍin one ruthlessly severing أَهلَthe people of العَقيقِal-ʿAqīq وَمَنعَجٍand Manʿaj
بِعَقّاقَةٍ أَهلَ العَقيقِ وَمَنعَجٍ
وَزَرادَةٍand one that gulps down بِالحَتفِthrough death أَهلَthe people of زَرودِZarūd
وَزَرادَةٍ بِالحَتفِ أَهلَ زَرودِ
in a world that cuts off the people of al-ʿAqīq and Manʿaj,
With lofty Acacias, those who dwell in Acacia
and gulps down the people of Zarūd through death.
And the twisted trunks, people of Sarwad
فُرودُthe solitary ones السَواريthe night-roaming stars وَالتَوائِمُand the twins فيin الدُجىthe darkness
فُرودُ السَواري وَالتَوائِمُ في الدُجى
تُقِرُّacknowledge لِرَبٍّto a Lord صاغَهاwho fashioned them بِفُرودِas uniquely one
تُقِرُّ لِرَبٍّ صاغَها بِفُرودِ
The solitary night-roaming stars and the twins in the darkness
The bracelets' jingle and the anklets' chime in the gloaming
acknowledge the uniqueness of the Lord who fashioned them.
Praising a Lord who created them with grace
Sol 6.1