أَبَاO father of العَبَّاسِal-Abbas تَاجَcrown of الدِّينِthe faith أَحْمَدْAhmad
أَبَا العَبَّاسِ تَاجَ الدِّينِ أَحْمَدْ
دَعَوْتُكَI have called upon you فيconcerning مُهمٍّa pressing matter قَدْindeed تَجَدَّدْhas arisen anew
دَعَوْتُكَ في مُهمٍّ قَدْ تَجَدَّدْ
O Abu al-Abbas, Taj al-Din Ahmad,
O Abu al-Abbas Taj al-Din Ahmad
I have called upon you about a pressing matter newly arisen.
I have called upon you in grave need renewed
أَرَىI see بَصَرِيmy eyesight وَإنْand though أَضحَىhas become صَحِيحاًsound
أَرَى بَصَرِي وَإنْ أَضحَى صَحِيحاً
لَهُit has فِيماin what أَرَىI see نَظَراتِglances أَرْمَدْone with inflamed eyes
لَهُ فِيما أَرَى نَظَراتِ أَرْمَدْ
I find that my eyesight, though now sound,
Though my vision be keen, to mine eyes
Has, as I see it, the gaze of one with inflamed eyes.
There cometh a dimness, a gaze dark-hued
كَأَنَّas though الشَّيْبَgray hair يَسْرِقُsteals نُورَthe light of عَيْنيmy eye
كَأَنَّ الشَّيْبَ يَسْرِقُ نُورَ عَيْني
فَيَنقُصُso it diminishes ذاthis إذاwhen ماذاthat (with emphasis) يُزَيَّدْis increased
فَيَنقُصُ ذا إذا ماذا يُزَيَّدْ
It is as though gray hair steals the light of my eye,
As if hoariness stealeth the light from mine eye
So this dwindles whenever that is increased.
And each day but addeth to what I have rued
وفيand in كُحْلِthe kohl of الوَزِيرِthe vizier شِفاءُhealing for عَيْنيmy eye
وفي كُحْلِ الوَزِيرِ شِفاءُ عَيْني
وَلَوْand even if نُوِّلْتُI were granted مِنهُof it حِمْلَa load of مِرْوَدْa kohl-stick
وَلَوْ نُوِّلْتُ مِنهُ حِمْلَ مِرْوَدْ
And in the vizier's kohl lies healing for my eye,
In the kohl of the vizier is cure for mine eye
Even were I granted a kohl-stick's load of it.
Though with but a little my gaze be imbued
وَلَيْسَand is not قَليلُهُa little of it عِندِيto me قَلِيلاًlittle
وَلَيْسَ قَليلُهُ عِندِي قَلِيلاً
وَإعْطاءُand giving القَلِيلِa little فَماso not تَعَوَّدْhe has grown accustomed
وَإعْطاءُ القَلِيلِ فَما تَعَوَّدْ
And a little of it is no small thing to me,
To me ever precious what little he gives
And giving little is not his habit.
For the poor covet e'en crumbs of his food
Sol 6.1