آنَthe time has come لِمَنfor one who وَدَّعَbade farewell to الشَّبابَاyouth
آنَ لِمَن وَدَّعَ الشَّبابَا
أَنْto يَدَعَleave الكأْسَthe cup والشَّرَابَاand wine
أَنْ يَدَعَ الكأْسَ والشَّرَابَا
The time has come for one who has bidden youth farewell
It is time for those who bid farewell to youth
to leave the cup and wine.
To leave aside the cup and drink
عَنِيَّaway from me بالرَّاحِwith wine يَاO نَدِيميmy boon companion
عَنِيَّ بالرَّاحِ يَا نَدِيمي
فالشَّيْبfor gray hair قَدْhas أغْلَظَmade harsh الخِطابَاthe speech
فالشَّيْب قَدْ أغْلَظَ الخِطابَا
Keep wine away from me, my boon companion;
Leave me be, my friend, for gray hair
for gray hair has spoken sternly.
Has made reproach weighty
أَطارَput to flight بَازِيthe hawk المَشِيبِof graying قَسْراًby force
أَطارَ بَازِي المَشِيبِ قَسْراً
عَنْfrom لِمَّتيmy locks ذلكَthat الغُرابَاthe raven
عَنْ لِمَّتي ذلكَ الغُرابَا
The hawk of graying forcibly drove off
Old age's falcon forcibly snatched away
that raven from my locks.
My turban, that stylish wrap
وَماand not المُداجَاةُdissembling ليfor me بِخُلْقٍa character trait
وَما المُداجَاةُ لي بِخُلْقٍ
فَكَيْفَso how أَسْتَحْسِنُdo I approve of الخِضابَاhair dye
فَكَيْفَ أَسْتَحْسِنُ الخِضابَا
And dissembling is no trait of mine,
Flattery does not suit my nature-
so how could I approve of hair dye?
How could I approve of dye?
رُبَّmany a زَمانٍtime رَكِبْتُI mounted فيهِduring it
رُبَّ زَمانٍ رَكِبْتُ فيهِ
لَهْوِيmy revelry وَقَدْand had خَفَّgrown light ليfor me رِكابَاas a mount
لَهْوِي وَقَدْ خَفَّ لي رِكابَا
Many a time I mounted
Many are the days I rode
my revelry, an easy mount for me.
My whims, when the stirrups were light for me
أَمْتَعَنيdelighted me والشَّبابُwhile youth غَضٌّfresh
أَمْتَعَني والشَّبابُ غَضٌّ
بِكلِّwith all مَاthat لَذَّwas sweet ليto me وَطَابَاand was pleasing
بِكلِّ مَا لَذَّ لي وَطَابَا
It delighted me while youth was fresh,
And youth made me delight
with all that was sweet and pleasing to me.
In all that was sweet and splendid
يَأْتيcomes صَبُوحِيmy morning draught علَىupon غَبُوقيmy evening draught
يَأْتي صَبُوحِي علَى غَبُوقي
واللَّيْلُwhile the night لَمْhas not يَنْزَعِshed الإهَابَاthe skin
واللَّيْلُ لَمْ يَنْزَعِ الإهَابَا
My morning draught follows my evening draught,
Morn comes to me still drowsy,
while night has not yet shed its skin.
And night does not remove my worry
وَسَوْءَةًand shame سَؤءَةًshame لِعَصْرٍupon an age
وَسَوْءَةً سَؤءَةً لِعَصْرٍ
أَصْفَرَemptied مِنof خَيْرِهِits bounty الوِطَابَاthe milk-skins
أَصْفَرَ مِن خَيْرِهِ الوِطَابَا
And shame, shame upon an age
How awful is an era whose goodness
that has emptied the milk-skins of its bounty!
Has withered and whose fruit has rotted
وَمَاand not عِتَابيmy reproach لِغَيْرِfor other than حَظِّيmy fortune
وَمَا عِتَابي لِغَيْرِ حَظِّي
لوif only أنَّهُthat it يَسْمَعُhears العِتَابَاthe reproach
لو أنَّهُ يَسْمَعُ العِتَابَا
And my reproach is for my fortune alone,
I do not blame any but my own fortune
if only it could hear reproach!
If only it could hear reproach
Sol 6.1