أَصبَحتُI have become أَقذِفُI hurl أَهدافَtargets المَنونِof death كَماjust as
أَصبَحتُ أَقذِفُ أَهدافَ المَنونِ كَما
يَرميhe shoots الدَريئَةَthe target أَدنىbrings close فَوقَهُits arrow-nock الوَتَرِthe bowstring
يَرمي الدَريئَةَ أَدنى فَوقَهُ الوَتَرِ
I now throw at death’s targets, just as
I now cast the targets of fate
An archer shoots at a mark, bringing his arrow’s nock close to the string.
As the young maiden casts stones with her sling
فيat مَنصَفٍthe midpoint مِنof مَدىthe span تِسعينَninety مِنout of مِئَةٍa hundred
في مَنصَفٍ مِن مَدى تِسعينَ مِن مِئَةٍ
كَرَميَةِlike the throw الكاعِبِof a budding-breasted maiden العَذراءِthe virgin بِالحَجَرِwith a stone
كَرَميَةِ الكاعِبِ العَذراءِ بِالحَجَرِ
Midway through the span from ninety to a hundred,
At halfway point of a ninety yard range
Like a budding-breasted virgin’s throw of a stone.
Like a virgin’s shot with a stone from her sling
فيin مَنزِلٍa dwelling نازِحٍdistant مِنَfrom الحَيَّthe clan مُنتَبَذٍset apart
في مَنزِلٍ نازِحٍ مِنَ الحَيَّ مُنتَبَذٍ
كَمَربَطِlike the tethering-place العيرِof an ass لاnot أُدعىI am summoned إِلىto خَبَرِnews
كَمَربَطِ العيرِ لا أُدعى إِلى خَبَرِ
In a dwelling far from the clan, set apart,
In an abode remote from kith and kin
Like an ass’s tethering-place; I am not called to hear any news.
Like a camel fold none call a neighbor
كَأَنَّنيas though I were خَرَبٌa male bustard جُزَّتwere clipped قَوادِمُهُits primary flight feathers
كَأَنَّني خَرَبٌ جُزَّت قَوادِمُهُ
أَوor جُثَّةٌa carcass مِنof بُغاثٍweak birds فيin يَدَيthe two hands of هَصِرِone who crushes
أَو جُثَّةٌ مِن بُغاثٍ في يَدَي هَصِرِ
As though I were a male bustard whose primary flight feathers were clipped,
As if I were ruins whose walls were razed
Or a weak bird’s carcass in a pair of crushing hands.
Or a corpse in the talons of a vulture
يُمضونَthey carry out أَمرَهُمُtheir affairs دونيwithout me وَماand not فَقَدواthey have found lacking
يُمضونَ أَمرَهُمُ دوني وَما فَقَدوا
مِنّيin me عَزيمَةَfirm resolve أَمرٍin a matter ماexception marker خَلاexcluding كِبَريmy old age
مِنّي عَزيمَةَ أَمرٍ ما خَلا كِبَري
They conduct their affairs without me, though they find no lack
They attend to their will; I am nothing to them
In my resolve in any matter, save for my old age,
Save an aged man, feeble, with no power
وَنَومَةٍand a sleep لَستُI do not أَقضيهاcomplete it وَإِنand even if مَتُعَتit lasts long
وَنَومَةٍ لَستُ أَقضيها وَإِن مَتُعَت
وَماand what مَضىhas passed قَبلُbefore مِنof شَأويmy course وَمِنand of عُمُريmy life
وَما مَضى قَبلُ مِن شَأوي وَمِن عُمُري
And a sleep I never finish, however long it lasts,
A nap I take not though to rest I’m inclined
And what has already passed of my course and my life.
Gone my past days, and my lifetime’s prime
وَإِنَّنيand indeed I رابَنيhas troubled me قَيدٌa fetter حُبِستُI was confined بِهِby it
وَإِنَّني رابَني قَيدٌ حُبِستُ بِهِ
وَقَدand once أَكونُI used to be وَماand not يُمشىis walked عَلىupon أَثريmy track
وَقَد أَكونُ وَما يُمشى عَلى أَثري
And truly, a fetter in which I am confined has troubled me,
Though shackled I be, I’m resigned to my plight
Yet once I was such that none could follow in my tracks.
Little remains of my trace behind
إِنَّindeed السِنينَthe years إِذاwhen قارَبنَthey approach مِنtoward مِئَةٍa hundred
إِنَّ السِنينَ إِذا قارَبنَ مِن مِئَةٍ
لَوَينَthey twisted مِرَّةَthe firm strand أَحواليof my circumstances عَلىupon مِرَرِcoils
لَوَينَ مِرَّةَ أَحوالي عَلى مِرَرِ
Indeed, the years, when they draw near a hundred,
When the years close in upon a century
Twist my life’s firm strand, coil upon coil.
Life spills my fortunes in bitter brine
Sol 6.1