باتَspent the night وَالكَأسُand the cup فيin الظَلامِdarkness
باتَ وَالكَأسُ في الظَلامِ
فيin حَديثٍconversation وَلاand no كَلامspeech
في حَديثٍ وَلا كَلام
He and the cup spent the night in darkness,
The cup remains as darkness falls
He spent the night with the cup in the darkness,
in conversation, yet without words.
In talk, with not a word,
In a conversation without words,
هِيَshe فيin صَمتِهاher silence تُضيءُshines
هِيَ في صَمتِها تُضيءُ
وَهَوَand he فيin صَمتِهِhis silence يُضامis wronged
وَهَوَ في صَمتِهِ يُضام
She shines in her silence,
It in its silence sheds a light
She, in her silence, shines bright,
while he, in his silence, is wronged.
While he in silence feels the hurt.
While he, in his silence, suffers wrong.
شاعِرٌa poet أَنفَقَspent الصِباyouth
شاعِرٌ أَنفَقَ الصِبا
مِنfrom غَرامٍpassion إِلىto غَرامpassion
مِن غَرامٍ إِلى غَرام
A poet who spent his youth
A poet who spent his youth
A poet who spent his youth,
from passion to passion,
In love and loving yet,
Drifting from one passion to another,
ذاهِلُabsorbed النَفسِthe soul بِالرُأىin visions
ذاهِلُ النَفسِ بِالرُأى
عَنof حُطامٍworldly wealth وَذيand the possessor of حُطامworldly wealth
عَن حُطامٍ وَذي حُطام
his soul absorbed in visions,
His soul forgot all wisdom
His soul distracted by visions,
heedless of worldly wealth and its owner,
And poverty and wealth.
Away from debris and those who hoard it,
وَعَنِand of الفَقرِpoverty وَالغِنىand wealth
وَعَنِ الفَقرِ وَالغِنى
وَعَنِand of الحَربِwar وَالسَلامand peace
وَعَنِ الحَربِ وَالسَلام
of poverty and riches,
Forgot both war and peace,
Away from poverty and wealth,
of war and peace;
Forgot the lips whence he had quaffed
Away from war and peace.
بِالشِفاهِin the lips الَّتيwhich طَفاfloated
بِالشِفاهِ الَّتي طَفا
بَينَbetween أَهدابِهاtheir fringes الأُوامburning thirst
بَينَ أَهدابِها الأُوام
in lips where there floated
The wine that passed between their locks
Occupied with lips upon which floated,
between their fringes a burning thirst;
In sips. Forgot the singing girls
Between their lashes, a burning thirst,
بِالغَوانيin beautiful women تُطيعُهُobey him
بِالغَواني تُطيعُهُ
وَالغَوانيand beautiful women لَهاfor them اِحتِكامsway
وَالغَواني لَها اِحتِكام
in beautiful women who obey him,
Who hearkened to him.
With beautiful women who obey him,
though beautiful women hold sway;
To their leader looked for judgment.
Though beautiful women hold command.
بِالشَذىin fragrance وَهوَwhile it is فائِحٌwafting
بِالشَذى وَهوَ فائِحٌ
وَالشَذىand fragrance وَهوَwhile it is بِالكَمامwithin the buds
وَالشَذى وَهوَ بِالكَمام
in fragrance as it wafts,
Forgot the fragrance spreading wide,
With the fragrance when it wafts,
and fragrance still within the buds;
Forgot the veil and turban's shroud,
And the fragrance hidden in the buds,
بِالسَحابِin the clouds الَّذيthat يَسُحُّpour down rain
بِالسَحابِ الَّذي يَسُحُّ
وَبِالخادِعِand in the deceptive الجَهامrainless cloud
وَبِالخادِعِ الجَهام
in clouds that pour down rain,
The clouds that shower with teeming rain,
With the clouds that pour forth rain,
and in the deceptive, rainless cloud;
All light that Life can live among.
And with the deceptive, dry clouds,
بِالئغاريدِin songs وَالبَلابِلِand nightingales
بِالئغاريدِ وَالبَلابِلِ
وَالنورِand blossoms وَالخُزامand lavender
وَالنورِ وَالخُزام
in songs and nightingales,
Forgot the birds that sing their song,
With melodies and nightingales,
and blossoms and lavender.
As flowers bloom in spring's glad dress.
With blossoms and lavender.
حَولَهُaround him الكَونُِthe universe فيin وَغىًwarfare
حَولَهُ الكَونُِ في وَغىً
وَهوَand he وَالكَونُand the universe فيin وِئامharmony
وَهوَ وَالكَونُ في وِئام
Around him, the universe is at war,
About is still the universe
The universe around him is in turmoil,
yet he and the universe are in harmony.
While he and space in concord dwell.
Yet he and the universe are in harmony.
ماwhat لَهُwith him الآنَnow وَحدَهُalone
ما لَهُ الآنَ وَحدَهُ
ساكِنُstill العِرقِthe pulse كَالنِيامlike sleepers
ساكِنُ العِرقِ كَالنِيام
What ails him now, alone,
He's now alone. Still flows his sweat
What is wrong with him now, alone,
his pulse still, like those asleep?
As when he slumbered deep. Awake,
With still veins, like those who sleep?
ساهِرٌwakeful غَيرَexcept أَنَّهُthat he
ساهِرٌ غَيرَ أَنَّهُ
خادِرُnumb الروحِthe spirit وَالعِظامand the bones
خادِرُ الروحِ وَالعِظام
Wakeful, though he is
His soul and bones are numbed in sleep.
He is awake, yet he is
numb in spirit and bones;
Mute as his books whose words still gleam,
Numb in spirit and in bone.
صامِتٌsilent مِثلُlike كُتبِهِhis books
صامِتٌ مِثلُ كُتبِهِ
وَكَدُنياand like a world بِلاwithout أَنامpeople
وَكَدُنيا بِلا أَنام
silent, like his books,
A world without an eye asleep.
Silent as his books,
and like a world without people.
Does hunger bite him? In his home
Like a world void of people.
أَتُرىdo you suppose عَضَّهُhas bitten him الطَُىhunger
أَتُرى عَضَّهُ الطَُى
لاno فَفيfor in بَيتِهِhis house طَعامfood
لا فَفي بَيتِهِ طَعام
Do you suppose hunger has bitten him?
Is still no food. The wine cup stands
Has hunger bitten him, perhaps?
No, for there is food in his house.
Beside him ever. Still filled up.
No, for there is food within his home.
لَمnot تَزَلcease كَأسُهُhis cup لَدَيwith
لَم تَزَل كَأسُهُ لَدَي
هِhim وَفيand in كَأسِهِhis cup مُدامwine
هِ وَفي كَأسِهِ مُدام
His cup is still with
Lightning smiles on him, wolves weep by,
His cup is still before him,
him, and in his cup is wine.
The stars circle in the dark,
And in his cup flows wine.
وَلَهُand for him تَضحَكُlaugh البُروقُflashes of lightning
وَلَهُ تَضحَكُ البُروقُ
وَيَبكيand weeps الحَياthe rain السَجامpouring
وَيَبكي الحَيا السَجام
And for him, flashes of lightning laugh,
Dew clothes itself in varied hues
For him, the lightning laughs,
and the pouring rain weeps.
As clouds take on their garb.
And the pouring rain weeps.
وَلَهُand for him تَرتَعيgraze الكَواكِبُthe stars
وَلَهُ تَرتَعي الكَواكِبُ
فيin مَسرَحِthe pasture of الظَلامdarkness
في مَسرَحِ الظَلام
And for him the stars graze
The fragrance breathes its perfume forth,
For him, the stars wander freely
in the pasture of darkness.
More wine is pressed. The dew still shines,
Across the theater of darkness.
وَلَهُand for him تَلبِسُput on الرُبىthe hills
وَلَهُ تَلبِسُ الرُبى
بُرُدَmantles النورِlight وَالغَمامand clouds
بُرُدَ النورِ وَالغَمام
And for him the hills put on
The doves echo their plaintive moan.
For him, the hills robe themselves
mantles of light and cloud.
Still lovely is the trysting place,
In cloaks of light and cloud.
وَلَهُand for him يَعبَقُwafts الشَذىfragrance
وَلَهُ يَعبَقُ الشَذى
وَلَهُand for him تُعصَرُis pressed المُدامwine
وَلَهُ تُعصَرُ المُدام
And for him fragrance wafts,
Still noble is the horseman bold.
For him, the fragrance spreads,
and for him wine is pressed.
All, all is his, no other shares.
And for him, the wine is pressed.
وَلَهُand for him يَلمَعُgleams النَدىdew
وَلَهُ يَلمَعُ النَدى
وَلَهُand for him يَسجَعُcoo الحَمامthe doves
وَلَهُ يَسجَعُ الحَمام
And for him the dew gleams,
Unlawful would it be to take.
For him, the dew glistens,
and for him the doves coo.
Indifferent is he, though it seems
And for him, the dove coos.
وَلَهُand for him الغادَةُthe maiden المَليحَةُlovely
وَلَهُ الغادَةُ المَليحَةُ
وَالفارِسُand the horseman الهُمامvaliant
وَالفارِسُ الهُمام
And his is the lovely maiden,
He cares for nothing else. Does he
For him is the beautiful maiden,
and the valiant horseman.
Now wear a mask upon his face?
And the gallant knight.
كُلُّهاall of it كُلُّهاall of it لَهُfor him
كُلُّها كُلُّها لَهُ
وَعَلىand to غَيرِهِanyone other than him حَرامforbidden
وَعَلى غَيرِهِ حَرام
All of it, all of it, is his,
Like statues round him wrought of brass
All of it, all of it is his,
and forbidden to anyone else.
Or carved from marble gleaming pure,
And forbidden to anyone else.
وَهوَand he ساهٍheedless كَأَنَّماas though
وَهوَ ساهٍ كَأَنَّما
بِسِواهاin something other than them لَهُfor him مَرامa desired goal
بِسِواها لَهُ مَرام
Yet he is heedless, as though
No sorrow and no happiness,
Yet he is listless, as if
his desire were for something other than these.
No weeping and no smiling grace.
He seeks a goal elsewhere.
وَجهُهُhis face غَيرُother than وَجهِهِhis face
وَجهُهُ غَيرُ وَجهِهِ
أَمor عَلىupon وَجهِهِhis face لِثامa veil
أَم عَلى وَجهِهِ لِثام
Is his face not his own face,
A night whose bitterness would last
His face is not his own,
or is there a veil upon his face?
A thousand years. Though beauty stays
Or does a veil cover his features?
كَالتَماثيلِlike the statues حَولَهُaround him
كَالتَماثيلِ حَولَهُ
مِنof نُحاسٍcopper وَمِنand of رُخامmarble
مِن نُحاسٍ وَمِن رُخام
Like the statues around him,
The ecstasy of song has died.
Like the statues around him,
of copper and of marble:
For him the world's a grave, the whole
Of copper and of marble.
لاno اِكتِئابٌdejection وَلاand no رِضىcontentment
لا اِكتِئابٌ وَلا رِضى
لاno بُكاءٌweeping وَلاand no اِبتِسامsmiling
لا بُكاءٌ وَلا اِبتِسام
no dejection and no contentment,
A ruin and debris scattered wide.
Neither sorrow nor contentment,
no weeping and no smiling.
Neither weeping nor a smile.
لَيلَةٌa night ماhow أَمَرَّهاbitter it is
لَيلَةٌ ما أَمَرَّها
لَيلَةُa night of اليَأسِdespair أَلفُa thousand عامyears
لَيلَةُ اليَأسِ أَلفُ عام
A night—how bitter it is!
A night—how bitter it is!
A night of despair is a thousand years.
The night of despair spans a thousand years.
بَقِيَremained الحُسنُbeauty إِنَّماonly
بَقِيَ الحُسنُ إِنَّما
ماتَdied فيin الشعِرِpoetry الهُيامpassion
ماتَ في الشعِرِ الهُيام
Beauty remains; only
Beauty remains, but alas,
passion has died in poetry.
Passion has died within the verse.
فَإِذاand behold الكَونُthe universe عِندَهُto him
فَإِذا الكَونُ عِندَهُ
جَدَثٌa grave كُلُّهُall of it رِمامmouldering bones
جَدَثٌ كُلُّهُ رِمام
And behold, to him the universe
And so, to him, the universe becomes
is a grave, nothing but mouldering bones.
A grave filled with decayed bones.
Partial English translation: 53 of 60 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1