وَجَدَfound القَريضُpoetry إِلىto العِتابِreproach سَبيلاa path
وَجَدَ القَريضُ إِلى العِتابِ سَبيلا
فَثَنىand so turned مَعاذِرَكَyour excuses الوُعورَrugged سُهولاlevel plains
فَثَنى مَعاذِرَكَ الوُعورَ سُهولا
Poetry found a path to reproach,
The rhymester found the path to reproach clear,
and turned your rugged excuses into level plains.
So he smoothed your rugged offenses into gentle slopes.
ماwhat ليfor me أُحَرِّكُI stir مِنof وَفائِكَyour loyalty ساكِناًsomething dormant
ما لي أُحَرِّكُ مِن وَفائِكَ ساكِناً
وَأَهُزُّand I rouse مِنكَfrom you إِلىtoward الصَفاءِsincere affection كَليلاa sluggish one
وَأَهُزُّ مِنكَ إِلى الصَفاءِ كَليلا
Why do I stir what lies dormant in your loyalty,
Why should I stir your dormant loyalty,
and rouse what is sluggish in you toward sincere affection?
And shake off from you pure clarity but little?
طالَlasted long المِطالُthe delay بِرَدِّin returning وِدٍّaffection لَمnot يَزَلcease
طالَ المِطالُ بِرَدِّ وِدٍّ لَم يَزَل
عِنديwith me مَصوناًsafeguarded فيكُمُtoward you all مَبذولاfreely given
عِندي مَصوناً فيكُمُ مَبذولا
Long has the delay lasted in returning affection that has always
Prolonged hope for a beloved who never changes
been treasured by me and freely given to you.
Remains guarded in me while in you given.
فَإِلىso until مَتىwhen يُنشيstirs up عِتابُكَyour reproach هَبوَةًa dust cloud
فَإِلى مَتى يُنشي عِتابُكَ هَبوَةً
وَتَشُنُّهاand you unleash it قالاًgossip عَلَيَّagainst me وَقيلاand hearsay
وَتَشُنُّها قالاً عَلَيَّ وَقيلا
So how long will your reproach stir up a dust cloud,
So how long will your reproach raise a storm,
and you unleash it against me as gossip and hearsay?
And sharpen it as words against me and tales?
فيin كُلِّevery يَومٍday غارَةٌa raid ماnot تَنقَضيends
في كُلِّ يَومٍ غارَةٌ ما تَنقَضي
إِلّاexcept وَتَثنيand it turns back سَيفَهُhis sword مَفلولاblunted
إِلّا وَتَثني سَيفَهُ مَفلولا
Each day brings a raid that never ends
Each day an incursion that does not end
without sending his sword back blunted.
Except to sheathe his sword made blunt.
إِنَّindeed الَّذيthe one who قَصَدَsought المَدائِحَpanegyrics غُلَّةًburning thirst
إِنَّ الَّذي قَصَدَ المَدائِحَ غُلَّةً
أَحرىmore likely بِأَنto يَجِدَfind الهِجاءَsatire غَليلاburning rancor
أَحرى بِأَن يَجِدَ الهِجاءَ غَليلا
Indeed, whoever sought panegyrics out of burning thirst
Truly he who sought praise voraciously
is likelier to find satire burning with rancor.
More deserves to find censure his companion.
كَمhow many مِنof نِظامٍa string of verse قَدalready نَثَرنَthey scattered هَواجِسيmy thoughts
كَم مِن نِظامٍ قَد نَثَرنَ هَواجِسي
حَتّىuntil نَظَمتُI strung العُذرَexcuses فيهِin it فُضولاneedless additions
حَتّى نَظَمتُ العُذرَ فيهِ فُضولا
How many a string of verse my thoughts have scattered,
How many compositions have my anxieties strewn
until I strung excuses into it as needless additions!
Until I wove exoneration into them excessively?
وَقَصائِدٍand odes سَدَّدتُهُنَّI aimed them أَسِنَّةًspearheads
وَقَصائِدٍ سَدَّدتُهُنَّ أَسِنَّةً
وَشَهَرتُهُنَّand I brandished them قَواضِباًcutting swords وَنُصولاand blades
وَشَهَرتُهُنَّ قَواضِباً وَنُصولا
And odes I aimed like spearheads
And poems I buttressed sturdily
and brandished like cutting swords and blades
And publicized them ships and convoys.
جُعِلَتwere made لِرَقراقِfor the rippling السُرورِjoy جَداوِلاًchannels
جُعِلَت لِرَقراقِ السُرورِ جَداوِلاً
نَحوَtoward القُلوبِhearts وَلِلهُمومِand for sorrows سَبيلاa path
نَحوَ القُلوبِ وَلِلهُمومِ سَبيلا
were made channels for rippling joy
They were made streams for the tinkle of joy
toward hearts, and a pathway for sorrows.
To hearts, and for sorrows an open road.
Sol 6.1