هُوَit is الفَلَكُthe celestial sphere الدَوّارُrevolving أَجراهُset it in motion رَبُّهُits Lord
هُوَ الفَلَكُ الدَوّارُ أَجراهُ رَبُّهُ
عَلىas ماتَرىwhat you see مِنfrom قَبلِbefore أَنthat تَجريsail الفُلكُthe ships
عَلى ماتَرى مِن قَبلِ أَن تَجري الفُلكُ
It is the revolving celestial sphere, set in motion by its Lord,
He is the revolving sphere its Lord has set spinning
As you see it, before ships began to sail.
As you see before the spheres begin their spinning
لَهُto Him belongs العِزُّthe glory لَمhas not يَشرُكهُshared with Him فيin المُلكِthe dominion غَيرُهُanyone other than Him
لَهُ العِزُّ لَم يَشرُكهُ في المُلكِ غَيرُهُ
فَياso, O جَهلَfolly إِنسانٍa human being يَقولُsays لِيَbelongs to me المُلكُthe dominion
فَيا جَهلَ إِنسانٍ يَقولُ لِيَ المُلكُ
His is the glory; no other has shared His dominion.
To Him belongs all might no one shares His kingdom
What folly, then, in a man who says, 'Dominion is mine!'
So ignorant is man to say "The kingdom is mine"
وَأَيّامُهُand his days مَنظومَةٌstrung together فيin حَياتِهِhis life
وَأَيّامُهُ مَنظومَةٌ في حَياتِهِ
وَلاand no نَظمَstringing يَبقىremains حينَwhen يَمتَلِئُbecomes full السُلكُthe thread
وَلا نَظمَ يَبقى حينَ يَمتَلِئُ السُلكُ
And his days are strung together throughout his life,
And his days are threaded in the thread of his life
And the stringing ends when the thread is full.
No thread remains when the wire has reached its end
خُلِقناwe were created لِشَيءٍfor something غَيرِnot بادٍapparent وَإِنَّماand only
خُلِقنا لِشَيءٍ غَيرِ بادٍ وَإِنَّما
نَعيشُwe live قَليلاًa little while ثُمَّthen يُدرِكُناovertakes us الهُلكُdeath
نَعيشُ قَليلاً ثُمَّ يُدرِكُنا الهُلكُ
We were created for something not apparent, and we only
We're not made forever but to wane and perish
Live a little while; then death overtakes us,
We live a little then death comes to finish
كَخَيلٍlike horses صِيامٍstanding motionless تَألَكُchew الدَهرَforever لُجمَهاtheir bits
كَخَيلٍ صِيامٍ تَألَكُ الدَهرَ لُجمَها
بِغَيظٍin fury فَقَدfor indeed أَدمىhas bloodied نَواجِذَهاtheir molars الأَلكُchewing
بِغَيظٍ فَقَد أَدمى نَواجِذَها الأَلكُ
Like motionless horses forever chewing their bits
Like starving steeds that time wears out their bridles
In fury, for the chewing has bloodied their molars.
In rage their teeth are worn by the fixed cheekpiece
Sol 6.1