ماthere is no بَعدَafter يَومِكَyour day ماanything that يَسلوfinds solace بِهِin it الساليone finding solace
ما بَعدَ يَومِكَ ما يَسلو بِهِ السالي
وَمِثلُand the like of يَومِكَyour day لَمdid not يَخطُرcross عَلىupon باليmy mind
وَمِثلُ يَومِكَ لَم يَخطُر عَلى بالي
After your day, nothing remains to console one seeking solace;
No day like yours can comfort me after you are gone,
And a day like yours had never crossed my mind.
Nor did the thought of such a day occur to me before.
وَكَيفَand how يَسلوfinds solace فُؤادٌa heart هاضَshattered جانِبَهُits side
وَكَيفَ يَسلو فُؤادٌ هاضَ جانِبَهُ
قَوارِعٌcrushing blows مِنfrom جَوىburning anguish هَمٍّgrief وَبَلبالِand turmoil
قَوارِعٌ مِن جَوى هَمٍّ وَبَلبالِ
And how can a heart find solace when its side is shattered
How can a heart find solace when dire calamities
By blows from the searing anguish of grief and turmoil?
Strike wave after wave of sorrow and confusion?
ياO قَلبِmy heart صَبراًpatience فَإِنَّfor indeed الصَبرَpatience مَنزِلَةٌa station
يا قَلبِ صَبراً فَإِنَّ الصَبرَ مَنزِلَةٌ
بَعدَafter الغُلوِّexcess إِلَيهاto it يَرجِعُreturns الغاليone going to excess
بَعدَ الغُلوِّ إِلَيها يَرجِعُ الغالي
O my heart, be patient: patience is a station
O heart, be patient, for patience is a high virtue
To which the one who goes too far returns after excess.
To which exalted men return after passion's rule.
وَلاand do not تَقُلsay سابِقٌone who went ahead لَمdid not يَعدُpass beyond غايَتَهُhis limit
وَلا تَقُل سابِقٌ لَم يَعدُ غايَتَهُ
فَماfor not المُقَدَّمُthe one ahead بِالناجيat all a survivor وَلاnor التاليthe one following
فَما المُقَدَّمُ بِالناجي وَلا التالي
And do not say, 'One who went ahead did not pass his limit';
Do not say that an early death left a man's goal unmet;
For neither the one ahead nor the one following escapes.
Neither the first to go nor the last is spared.
نَقصُthe shortening الجَديدينِday and night مِنfrom عُمريmy lifetime يَزيدُexceeds عَلىbeyond
نَقصُ الجَديدينِ مِن عُمري يَزيدُ عَلى
ماwhat يُنقِصانِthe two diminish عَلىover الأَيّامِthe days مِنfrom حاليmy fortunes
ما يُنقِصانِ عَلى الأَيّامِ مِن حالي
What day and night take from my lifetime outweighs
The passing days subtract far more from my life now
What they take from my fortunes as the days pass.
Than they detract from ordinary men each day.
دَهرٌtime تُؤَثِّرُleave marks فيon جِسميmy body نَوائِبُهُits calamities
دَهرٌ تُؤَثِّرُ في جِسمي نَوائِبُهُ
فَماso what اِهتِماميmy concern إِذاif أَودىdestroys بِسِرباليmy garment
فَما اِهتِمامي إِذا أَودى بِسِربالي
Time, whose calamities leave their marks on my body—
Time inflicts its strokes on my body continuously;
So why should I care if it destroys my garment?
Why should I worry if it takes my robe away?
نَغتَرُّwe are beguiled بِالحِفظِby protection مِنهُfrom it وَهوَwhile it يَختُلُناdeceives us
نَغتَرُّ بِالحِفظِ مِنهُ وَهوَ يَختُلُنا
كَماjust as يَغُرُّdeceives ذُبولُthe fading الجَمرَةِthe ember الصاليone warming himself
كَما يَغُرُّ ذُبولُ الجَمرَةِ الصالي
We are beguiled by its protection while it deceives us,
We're fooled into thinking we'll be spared from it,
As a fading ember deceives the one warming himself.
As embers' glow tricks one who warms his hands thereby.
مَضىhas gone الَّذيthe one whom كُنتُI was فيthrough الأَيّامِthe days آمُلُهُI hoped in him
مَضى الَّذي كُنتُ في الأَيّامِ آمُلُهُ
مِنَamong الرِجالِmen فَياso alas بُعداًhow distant لِآماليmy hopes
مِنَ الرِجالِ فَيا بُعداً لِآمالي
Gone is he in whom I placed my hope through the days,
He whom I hoped in earlier days would come
Among men—alas, how far beyond reach my hopes!
To mankind's aid is gone - how vain my dreams!
قَدindeed كانَhe was شُغليmy concern مِنَof الدُنياthe world فَمُذand since فَرغَتbecame empty
قَد كانَ شُغلي مِنَ الدُنيا فَمُذ فَرغَت
مِنهُof him يَديmy hand زادَincreased طولُthe duration الوَجدِgrief أَشغاليmy cares
مِنهُ يَدي زادَ طولُ الوَجدِ أَشغالي
He was my concern in this world; and since
Worldly affairs distracted me, but now that
My hand was emptied of him, lasting grief has multiplied my cares.
My hands are empty of them, my pains have multiplied.
تَرَكتُهُI left him لِذُيولِfor the trailing skirts of الريحِthe wind مُدرَجَةًa pathway
تَرَكتُهُ لِذُيولِ الريحِ مُدرَجَةً
وَرُحتُand I departed أَسحَبُdragging عَنهُaway from him فَضلَthe surplus length of أَذياليmy hems
وَرُحتُ أَسحَبُ عَنهُ فَضلَ أَذيالي
I left him a pathway for the wind's trailing skirts,
I left them scattered to the winds' sweeping,
And departed, dragging my long trailing hems away from him.
And drew away what remained of my train behind.
كَأَنَّنيas though I لَمdid not أَدَعleave فيin الأَرضِthe earth يَومَthe day ثَوىhe lay at rest
كَأَنَّني لَم أَدَع في الأَرضِ يَومَ ثَوى
مُوَدِّعاًbidding farewell شَطرَhalf أَعضائيmy limbs وَأَوصاليand my joints
مُوَدِّعاً شَطرَ أَعضائي وَأَوصالي
As though, the day he lay at rest, I had not left in the earth
It's as if when I died and went below,
Half my limbs and joints, as I bade farewell.
I didn't leave a single part of me on earth intact.
ماwhat بالِيَmy condition اليَومَtoday لَمhave not أَلحَقjoined بِهِhim كَمَداًfrom consuming grief
ما بالِيَ اليَومَ لَم أَلحَق بِهِ كَمَداً
أَوor أَنزِعِtear away الصَبرَpatience وَالسُلوانَand consolation مِنfrom باليmy mind
أَو أَنزِعِ الصَبرَ وَالسُلوانَ مِن بالي
Why have I not joined him today through consuming grief,
Why can't I endure today with equanimity
Or torn patience and consolation from my mind?
Or banish patience and solace from my mind?
عَواطِفُrecurring surges الهَمِّsorrow ماnot تَنفَكُّcease تُرجِعُbring back ليto me
عَواطِفُ الهَمِّ ما تَنفَكُّ تُرجِعُ لي
مِنof ذاهِبٍwhat has gone وَجَديدِand fresh الوَجدِgrief مِنfrom بالِwhat has grown old
مِن ذاهِبٍ وَجَديدِ الوَجدِ مِن بالِ
The recurring surges of sorrow never cease to bring back to me
Waves of sorrow keep returning to me
What has gone, and fresh grief out of the old.
With new sorrows following close on those now past.
ماas many as شِئتُI wished مِنof والِدٍa father يوديperishes وَمِنand of وَلَدٍa son
ما شِئتُ مِن والِدٍ يودي وَمِن وَلَدٍ
يَمضيcarries away الزَمانُtime بِآساديmy lions وَأَشباليand my cubs
يَمضي الزَمانُ بِآسادي وَأَشبالي
Many a father perishes, and many a son—
I wanted a father to show me love, and children
Time carries off my lions and my cubs.
To comfort me as my years went drifting by;
بِالمالِwith wealth طَوراًat one time وَبِالأَهلينَand with loved ones آوِنَةًat other times
بِالمالِ طَوراً وَبِالأَهلينَ آوِنَةً
ماhow أَضيَعَbereft المَرءَa person بَعدَafter الأَهلِfamily وَالمالِand wealth
ما أَضيَعَ المَرءَ بَعدَ الأَهلِ وَالمالِ
With wealth at one time, and with loved ones at others—
Wealth for a time, and family for a season -
How bereft a man is once family and wealth are gone!
Nothing destroys a man like losing wealth and kin.
أُليحُI recoil مِنهُfrom it رُوَيداًslowly أَوor عَلىin عَجَلٍhaste
أُليحُ مِنهُ رُوَيداً أَو عَلى عَجَلٍ
لَوif كانَwere يَنفَعُof use إِرواديmy slow pace وَإِعجاليand my haste
لَو كانَ يَنفَعُ إِروادي وَإِعجالي
I would recoil from it, slowly or in haste,
I'd gladly do without it, slowly or quickly,
If my slow pace or my haste could help.
If that could help me, whether soon or late.
ماhow أَعجَبَstrange الدَهرَtime وَالأَيّامُwhile the days دائِبَةٌunceasingly active
ما أَعجَبَ الدَهرَ وَالأَيّامُ دائِبَةٌ
تَسعىstrive عَلىwith عَمَدٍdeliberate intent نَحويtoward me وَتَسعىand strive ليfor me
تَسعى عَلى عَمَدٍ نَحوي وَتَسعى لي
How strange is time, while the days labor unceasingly,
How strange is Time, whose days unceasing
Deliberately pursuing me, yet working for me.
Run after me and run away from me by turns.
نُحِبُّهاwe love them وَعَلىyet despite رُغمٍreluctance نُوَدِّعُهاwe bid them farewell
نُحِبُّها وَعَلى رُغمٍ نُوَدِّعُها
إِلىtoward المَنونِdeath وَداعَthe farewell of الصارِمِone severing ties القاليone who hates
إِلى المَنونِ وَداعَ الصارِمِ القالي
We love them, yet against our will we bid them farewell,
I love it though against my will, and bid it
Bound for death, with the farewell of one who severs ties in hatred.
Farewell, dispatched by Death, that tireless seeder.
كَمhow many أَنزَلَbrought down الدَهرُtime مِنfrom عَلياءَa height شاهِقَةٍtowering
كَم أَنزَلَ الدَهرُ مِن عَلياءَ شاهِقَةٍ
وَشالَand lifted مِنfrom قَعرِthe bottom of نائيfar-reaching الغَورِdepth مِنهالِcrumbling
وَشالَ مِن قَعرِ نائي الغَورِ مِنهالِ
How many has time brought down from a towering height,
How many lofty peaks has Fortune undermined,
And raised from the floor of a deep, crumbling abyss!
And from how many deep valleys raised up streams!
وَكَمand how many هَوىcast down بِعَظيمٍa great man فيamong عَشيرَتِهِhis clan
وَكَم هَوى بِعَظيمٍ في عَشيرَتِهِ
مِطعامِlavish feeder of أَندِيَةٍgatherings طَعّانِfrequent piercer of أَبطالِchampions
مِطعامِ أَندِيَةٍ طَعّانِ أَبطالِ
And how many a man, great among his clan, has it cast down—
How many great men among their tribes
A lavish feeder of gatherings, a piercer of champions,
She made food for assemblies of gossiping idlers!
عالٍlofty عَلىabove نَظَرِthe gaze of الأَعداءِthe enemies يَلحَظُهُمhe watches them
عالٍ عَلى نَظَرِ الأَعداءِ يَلحَظُهُم
لَواحِظَthe glances of الصَقرِthe falcon فَوقَabove المَربَإِthe lookout العاليlofty
لَواحِظَ الصَقرِ فَوقَ المَربَإِ العالي
High above his enemies' gaze, watching them
A man, tall in his enemies' eyes, watches them
With a falcon's glances from above the lofty lookout!
Like a hawk surveying prey from on high.
لَئِنif indeed تَرامَتhurried away بِكَwith you الأَعوادُthe bier's timbers مُعجِلَةًin haste
لَئِن تَرامَت بِكَ الأَعوادُ مُعجِلَةً
عَنِaway from الدِيارِthe dwellings إِلىto مُزوَرَّةِthe secluded abode of الخاليthe solitary one
عَنِ الدِيارِ إِلى مُزوَرَّةِ الخالي
If indeed the bier's timbers have hurried you away
When the days drive you relentlessly away
From home to the lonely one's secluded abode,
From home to a place emptied of kin,
فَلَيسَthen no حَيٌّliving person مِنَin الدُنياthis world عَلىin ثِقَةٍsecurity
فَلَيسَ حَيٌّ مِنَ الدُنيا عَلى ثِقَةٍ
وَالدَهرُand time أَعوَجُcrooked لاnot يَبقىremains عَلىin حالِone state
وَالدَهرُ أَعوَجُ لا يَبقى عَلى حالِ
Then no living soul in this world is secure;
No living soul can feel secure,
And time is crooked, never remaining in one state.
For Time is crooked and keeps no settled state.
فَلاso do not يَسُرُّكَdelight you إِكثاريmy abundance وَلاnor جِدَتيmy riches
فَلا يَسُرُّكَ إِكثاري وَلا جِدَتي
وَلاnor يَغُمُّكَgrieve you إِقتاريmy poverty وَإِقلاليand my scant means
وَلا يَغُمُّكَ إِقتاري وَإِقلالي
So let neither my abundance nor my riches delight you,
Do not let my wealth or poverty disturb you,
Nor let my poverty and scant means grieve you.
Or whether I have little or enough.
أَرىI see يَقينَthe certainty of المُنىhopes شَكّاًas doubt فَأَرفُضُهُso I reject it
أَرى يَقينَ المُنى شَكّاً فَأَرفُضُهُ
ماhow أَشبَهَsimilar الماءَwater فيin عَينَيَّmy eyes بِالآلِto a mirage
ما أَشبَهَ الماءَ في عَينَيَّ بِالآلِ
I see the certainty of hopes as doubt, and reject it;
I see death's inevitability as uncertain,
How like a mirage water looks in my eyes!
So I reject it - how like water life seems to my eyes!
قُبِّحتِmay you be accursed ياO دارُabode مِنwhat an دارٍabode نُغَرُّwe are beguiled بِهاby it
قُبِّحتِ يا دارُ مِن دارٍ نُغَرُّ بِها
فَأَنتِfor you أَغدَرُmost treacherous مِظعانٍplace of departure وَمِحلالِand place of dwelling
فَأَنتِ أَغدَرُ مِظعانٍ وَمِحلالِ
Accursed be you, O abode—an abode by which we are beguiled!
You were reviled, O house, despite the love we bore you;
For you are the most treacherous place of departure and dwelling.
You are more treacherous than a rugged valley.
Sol 6.1