هَمٌّa worry أَلَمَّbefell بِهِupon him مَعَwith الظَلماءِthe darkness
هَمٌّ أَلَمَّ بِهِ مَعَ الظَلماءِ
فَنَأىso it drew away بِمُقلَتِهِwith his eye عَنِfrom الإِغفاءِslumber
فَنَأى بِمُقلَتِهِ عَنِ الإِغفاءِ
A worry befell him with the darkness,
A sorrow seized him in the darkness of night,
A heavy care descended upon him with the dark, Driving sleep far away from his eyes.
And drew his eye away from slumber.
So he kept his eyelids from sleep.
A soul where sorrow has settled within his ribs, And sorrow is a fire that gives no light.
نَفسٌa soul أَقامَdwelt الحُزنُsorrow بَينَbetween ضُلوعِهِhis ribs
نَفسٌ أَقامَ الحُزنُ بَينَ ضُلوعِهِ
وَالحُزنُand sorrow نارٌa fire غَيرَnot ذاتِpossessing ضِياءِlight
وَالحُزنُ نارٌ غَيرَ ذاتِ ضِياءِ
A soul within whose ribs sorrow has made its home,
A soul whom grief settled between his ribs,
He tends the stars of the night, yet not from love, Though an observer might deem him entranced by them.
And sorrow is a fire that gives no light.
And grief is a fire without light.
In his heart burns the fire of Abraham, While upon his cheeks flow the tears of al-Khansa.
يَرعىwatches نُجومَthe stars اللَيلِthe night لَيسَthere is not بِهِin him هَوىpassion
يَرعى نُجومَ اللَيلِ لَيسَ بِهِ هَوى
وَيَخالُهُand supposes him كَلِفاًenamored بِهِنَّof them الرائيthe observer
وَيَخالُهُ كَلِفاً بِهِنَّ الرائي
He watches the stars of night, with no passion in him,
He herds the stars of the night, though he has no desire for them,
Fierce despair has sunk its fangs into his soul, While hunger gnaws within his gut.
Yet the observer thinks him enamored of them.
And he sees them reluctantly with sleepy eyes.
He weeps like a child torn from its mother; For what recourse has the sorrowful but tears?
فيin قَلبِهِhis heart نارُthe fire الخَليلِal-Khalil (Abraham) وَإِنَّماbut only
في قَلبِهِ نارُ الخَليلِ وَإِنَّما
فيon وَجنَتَيهِhis two cheeks أَدمُعُthe tears الخَنساءِal-Khansa
في وَجنَتَيهِ أَدمُعُ الخَنساءِ
In his heart is al-Khalil's fire, but only
In his heart is the fire of anguish, yet
He remained fixed in his home, yet it seemed As though, in its emptiness, he dwelt in a wasteland.
Al-Khansa's tears are on his cheeks.
On his cheeks are the tears of despair.
Bewildered, he knows not: should he take his own life Willfully, to escape the torment of this world?
قَدindeed عَضَّهُhas bitten him اليَأسُdespair الشَديدُfierce بِنابِهِwith its fang
قَد عَضَّهُ اليَأسُ الشَديدُ بِنابِهِ
فيin نَفسِهِhis soul وَالجوعُand hunger فيin الأَحشاءِthe entrails
في نَفسِهِ وَالجوعُ في الأَحشاءِ
Fierce despair has bitten him with its fang
Sever despair has bitten him with its fangs,
Or continue in humiliation and pain, When life holds no sweetness amidst such distress?
In his soul, and hunger in his entrails.
In his soul and in his bowels is hunger.
He banished slumber and stood complaining to the night: "O Night, you are long, and long within you is my suffering."
يَبكيhe weeps بُكاءَthe weeping الطِفلِthe child فارَقَparted from أُمِّهِhis mother
يَبكي بُكاءَ الطِفلِ فارَقَ أُمِّهِ
ماwhat حيلَةُrecourse المَحزونِthe sorrowful غَيرُother than بُكاءِweeping
ما حيلَةُ المَحزونِ غَيرُ بُكاءِ
He weeps like a child parted from his mother;
He cries the cry of a child parted from his mother,
"O Night, you have seduced my body into wasting away, Until my very limbs would ache to lose that pain."
What recourse has the sorrowful but weeping?
What recourse has the sorrowful but crying?
"You have cast upon me, O Night, a care That shreds my insides—and care is the most difficult cure."
فَأَقامَso he remained حِلسَa fixture of الدارِthe house وَهوَwhile he كَأَنَّهُas though he
فَأَقامَ حِلسَ الدارِ وَهوَ كَأَنَّهُ
لِخُلُوِّbecause of the emptiness of تِلكَthat الدارِhouse فيin بَيداءِa desert
لِخُلُوِّ تِلكَ الدارِ في بَيداءِ
So he remained a fixture of the house, yet seemed,
So he sat keeping vigil in the house, as if
"O Night, why do you not soften at my plight? Do you, like the days, count yourself among my foes?"
Because that house was empty, to be in a desert.
He had no companions in that lonely place.
"O Night, the misery I have met suffices me; Have mercy, for I am no unfeeling rock."
حَيرانُbewildered لاnot يَدريhe knows أَيَقتُلُwhether he should kill نَفسَهُhimself
حَيرانُ لا يَدري أَيَقتُلُ نَفسَهُ
عَمداًdeliberately فَيَخلُصَand so escape مِنfrom أَذىthe harm الدُنياءِthe world
عَمداً فَيَخلُصَ مِن أَذى الدُنياءِ
Bewildered, he does not know whether to kill himself
Bewildered, not knowing whether to take his own life
"Depart from my eyes, O darkness, for perhaps The morning will break, and in it bring my solace."
Deliberately, and escape the world's harm,
Deliberately, so he might be free of the harm of this world,
Oh, what mercy is needed for the destitute! For they Are dead, though you count them among the living.
أَمor يَستَمِرَّcontinue عَلىin الغَضاضَةِhumiliation وَالقَذىand grit in the eye
أَم يَستَمِرَّ عَلى الغَضاضَةِ وَالقَذى
وَالعَيشُand life لاnot يَحلوis sweet مَعَamid الضَرّاءِadversity
وَالعَيشُ لا يَحلو مَعَ الضَرّاءِ
Or go on enduring humiliation and grit in the eye;
Or to persist in distress and torment,
I have found their fortunes to be pitch-black, As if they were carved from the very darkness itself.
And life has no sweetness amid adversity.
Though life cannot be sweet with adversity,
The children of the age rejoice, yet these have No share in happiness like the others.
طَرَدَhe drove away الكَرىsleep وَأَقامَand continued يَشكوcomplaining of لَيلَهُhis night
طَرَدَ الكَرى وَأَقامَ يَشكو لَيلَهُ
ياO لَيلُnight طُلتَyou have lengthened وَطالَand has lengthened فيكَwithin you عَنائيmy suffering
يا لَيلُ طُلتَ وَطالَ فيكَ عَنائي
He banished sleep and kept lamenting his night:
He drove away his concerns and continued lamenting his night:
Their hands hold nothing of this world, save For the abundance of their dreams of bliss.
O night, you have lengthened, and so has my suffering within you.
“O night, you have been long during which my troubles multiplied!
Their hopes draw them closer to contentment— Yet how impossible to reach it through mere distant fancy!
ياO لَيلُnight قَدindeed أَغرَيتَyou have lured جِسميmy body بِالضَناinto wasting illness
يا لَيلُ قَد أَغرَيتَ جِسمي بِالضَنا
حَتّىuntil لَيُؤلِمَtruly pains فَقدُهُits loss أَعضائيmy limbs
حَتّى لَيُؤلِمَ فَقدُهُ أَعضائي
O night, you have lured my body into wasting,
O night, you have weakened my body with gloom
While people grow arrogant with joy, for the wretched, Joy is a synonym for the mythical Phoenix.
Till its wasting away truly pains my limbs.
Until missing him hurts my limbs.
It grieves me that their souls serve only As targets for calamity and vessels for misfortune.
وَرَمَيتَنيand you struck me ياO لَيلُnight بِالهَمِّwith anguish الَّذيwhich
وَرَمَيتَني يا لَيلُ بِالهَمِّ الَّذي
يَفريrends الحَشاthe entrails وَالهَمُّand anguish أَعسَرُthe most intractable داءِdisease
يَفري الحَشا وَالهَمُّ أَعسَرُ داءِ
And you have struck me, O night, with the anguish that
And you have afflicted me, O night, with cares
I have not stood here to sing the praise of wine; What have I to do with glowing odes to the cup?
Rends the entrails; anguish is the most intractable disease.
That rend the ribs – and care is the most difficult malady.
Ask me not for flattery or descriptions of fair maidens, For I have cast aside the trivialities of poets.
ياO لَيلُnight ماwhat لَكَis with you لاnot تَرِقُّyou show pity لِحالَتيfor my plight
يا لَيلُ ما لَكَ لا تَرِقُّ لِحالَتي
أَتُراكَare you, I wonder وَالأَيّامُand the days مِنamong أَعدائيmy enemies
أَتُراكَ وَالأَيّامُ مِن أَعدائي
O night, why do you not pity my plight?
O night, why do you not have mercy on my condition,
They sold their dignity for coin through flattery, While I remained steadfast, guarding my self-respect.
Are you, I wonder, and the days among my enemies?
When I see you, though days are my enemies?
They understood nothing of poetry, save that It had become a vessel for gaining wealth.
ياO لَيلُnight حَسبِيَenough for me ماwhat لَقيتُI have suffered مِنَof الشَقاmisery
يا لَيلُ حَسبِيَ ما لَقيتُ مِنَ الشَقا
رُحماكَyour mercy, please لَستُI am not بِصَخرَةٍa rock صَمّاءِunyielding
رُحماكَ لَستُ بِصَخرَةٍ صَمّاءِ
O night, enough of the misery I have suffered!
O night, enough of what I have borne of misery
Thus, I encountered none but those who croon To beauties, or those who beg for handouts.
Have mercy! I am no unyielding rock.
To make even a rock, not I, lament.
The vast world grew narrow for him, so he turned, Using verse to beg from the sons of Eve.
بِنdepart ياO ظَلامُdarkness عَنِfrom العُيونِthe eyes فَرُبَّماfor perhaps
بِن يا ظَلامُ عَنِ العُيونِ فَرُبَّما
طَلَعَrose الصَباحُmorning وَكانَand was فيهِin it عَزائيmy consolation
طَلَعَ الصَباحُ وَكانَ فيهِ عَزائي
Depart, O darkness, from these eyes; perhaps
Disappear, O darkness, from the eyes, perhaps
Poetry suffered because of them, and they found no joy in it; Were it not for them, it would have been among the blessed.
Morning will rise, and in it will be my solace.
The dawn will come and bring me solace.
They preached love and passion to us, While their hearts were stamped with hatred.
وارَحمَتاoh, pity! لِلبائِسينَfor the wretched فَإِنَّهُمfor they are
وارَحمَتا لِلبائِسينَ فَإِنَّهُم
مَوتىdead وَتَحسَبُهُمyet you reckon them مِنَamong الأَحياءِthe living
مَوتى وَتَحسَبُهُم مِنَ الأَحياءِ
Oh, pity for the wretched! For they
Have mercy on the wretched, for they
They grew accustomed to hypocrisy until it became their nature; May the Almighty curse the soul of every hypocrite.
Are dead, though you count them among the living.
Are dead though reckoned among the living.
If they are angered by my words—well, often enough Has the mindless mob detested the man of letters.
إِنّيindeed I وَجَدتُfound حُظوظَهُمtheir fortunes مُسوَدَّةٌblackened
إِنّي وَجَدتُ حُظوظَهُم مُسوَدَّةٌ
فَكَأَنَّماso it is as though قُدَّتwere cut مِنَfrom الظَلماءِdarkness
فَكَأَنَّما قُدَّت مِنَ الظَلماءِ
I have found their fortunes blackened,
I have seen their fortunes written in black,
Or if they denounce my art, do not marvel; For the rising sun brings pain to diseased eyes.
As though cut from darkness itself.
As if dictated by the dark.
And whenever a virtuous man defends the truth, The fools rise up against him in uproar.
أَبَداًalways يُسَرُّare gladdened بَنوthe children of الزَمانِthe age وَماyet no لَهُمfor them
أَبَداً يُسَرُّ بَنو الزَمانِ وَما لَهُم
حَظٌّshare كَغَيرِهِمlike others مِنَof السَرّاءِhappiness
حَظٌّ كَغَيرِهِم مِنَ السَرّاءِ
The children of the age are ever glad, yet these have no
Never do the people of the age rejoice, nor do they
I have not taken this stand among you today Except to lament the plight of the wretched.
Share of happiness like the rest.
Have a share like others of good fortune.
Perchance, with this verse, I might stir your hearts, For hearts are the dwelling places of emotion.
ماnothing فيin أَكُفِّهِمtheir palms مِنَof الدُنياthe world سِوىexcept
ما في أَكُفِّهِم مِنَ الدُنيا سِوى
أَنto يُكثِرواmultiply الأَحلامَdreams بِالنَعماءِof prosperity
أَن يُكثِروا الأَحلامَ بِالنَعماءِ
They hold nothing of this world in their palms except
In their palms is nothing of the world but
My grief is for the needy one in your midst, Who wakes and sleeps shackled by misery.
Their ever-multiplying dreams of prosperity.
To multiply dreams of blessings.
His night and his morning have become alike to him, Though vast is the difference between dawn and dusk.
تَدنوdraw near بِهِمwith them آمالُهُمtheir hopes نَحوَtoward الهَناhappiness
تَدنو بِهِم آمالُهُم نَحوَ الهَنا
هَيهاتَfar from possible! يَدنوdraws near بِالخَيالِthrough imagination النائيthe distant
هَيهاتَ يَدنو بِالخَيالِ النائي
Their hopes draw them toward happiness;
Their hopes come near to attainment
Despair has severed the thread of his hope, And man cannot live without hope.
Far from it! Fancy cannot bring the distant near.
In their imagination, but remain remote.
My grief! And could my grief but aid the wretch, I would have shed for him my tears and my blood.
بَطَرُinsolence الأَنامِhumankind مِنَfrom السُرورِjoy وَعِندَهُمbut for them
بَطَرُ الأَنامِ مِنَ السُرورِ وَعِندَهُم
إِنَّindeed السُرورَjoy مُرادِفُsynonymous with العَنقاءِthe phoenix
إِنَّ السُرورَ مُرادِفُ العَنقاءِ
People grow insolent with joy, whereas for them
People gloat in joy, yet to them
Say to the rich man, emboldened by his wealth: "Slow down! You have gone too far in your arrogance."
Joy is synonymous with the phoenix.
Joy is synonymous with disaster.
"Your brother, the poor man, was fashioned from clay and water; And from that same clay and water were you made."
إِنّيindeed I لَأَحزَنُtruly grieve أَنthat تَكونَshould be نُفوسُهُمtheir souls
إِنّي لَأَحزَنُ أَن تَكونَ نُفوسُهُم
غَرَضَthe target of الخُطوبِcalamities وَعُرضَةَand exposed to الأَرزاءِmisfortunes
غَرَضَ الخُطوبِ وَعُرضَةَ الأَرزاءِ
It saddens me indeed that their souls should be
I am saddened that their souls should be
"It is cruelty indeed that you should live in bliss, While he remains a hostage to disaster and woe."
Targets for calamities, exposed to misfortunes.
The prey of misfortunes and the target of calamities.
"You continue to strut in silk before him, While he is left without a garment to wear."
أَناI ماnot وَقَفتُhave stood لِكَيin order to أُشَبِّبَsing love poetry بِالطَلاof fawns
أَنا ما وَقَفتُ لِكَي أُشَبِّبَ بِالطَلا
ماwhat ليhave I وَلِلتَشبيبِand with love-singing بِالصَهباءِof tawny wine
ما لي وَلِلتَشبيبِ بِالصَهباءِ
I have not stood here to sing love songs of fawns;
I do not stand today among you to fancy
"Do you withhold a single dinar to aid him, While squandering thousands on vice?"
What have I to do with songs of tawny wine?
The coquettish and white-skinned maidens.
"Aid your brother; for if you do, you spare him The shame of begging and the scorn of misers."
لاdo not تَسأَلونيask me المَدحَpanegyric أَوor وَصفَdescriptions of الدُمىdoll-like beauties
لا تَسأَلوني المَدحَ أَو وَصفَ الدُمى
إِنّيindeed I نَبَذتُhave cast aside سَفاسِفَthe trivialities of الشُعَراءِthe poets
إِنّي نَبَذتُ سَفاسِفَ الشُعَراءِ
Do not ask me for praise-poems or descriptions of doll-like beauties;
Ask me not for praise or description of beauties,
O people of wealth! Wealth is of no avail If its possessors are not people of generosity.
I have cast aside the poets' trivialities.
For I have discarded the rabble of poets.
Why this ingratitude, when your wealth is bound for ruin? And why this vanity, when you are all destined for dust?
باعواthey sold لِأَجلِfor the sake of المالِmoney ماءَthe water of حَيائِهِمtheir modesty
باعوا لِأَجلِ المالِ ماءَ حَيائِهِم
مَدحاًin panegyrics وَبِتُّand I have continued أَصونُto guard ماءَthe water of حَيائيmy modesty
مَدحاً وَبِتُّ أَصونُ ماءَ حَيائي
They sold the water of their modesty for money,
They sold the water of their dignity for money
The weak are in dire need of your gold; Do not sit idly by, refusing to aid the helpless.
In praise-poems, while I have guarded the water of my modesty.
And praise, but I protect the water of my dignity.
I do not admonish the generous among you; For the healthy have no need of a cure.
لَمdid not يَفهَمواthey understand ماwhat الشِعرُpoetry is إِلّاexcept أَنَّهُthat it
لَم يَفهَموا ما الشِعرُ إِلّا أَنَّهُ
قَدindeed باتَhas become واسِطَةًa means إِلىto الإِثراءِgrowing rich
قَد باتَ واسِطَةً إِلى الإِثراءِ
They understood nothing of poetry except that it
They did not understand that poetry is nothing
If the poor cannot repay you, Then God shall reward you on their behalf.
Had become a means of growing rich.
But a means to enrichment.
فَلِذاكَso for that reason ماnot لاقَيتُI have met غَيرَother than مُشَبِّبٍa singer of love-poetry
فَلِذاكَ ما لاقَيتُ غَيرَ مُشَبِّبٍ
بِالغانِياتِabout beautiful women وَطالِبٍand a seeker لِعَطاءِof gifts
بِالغانِياتِ وَطالِبٍ لِعَطاءِ
Thus I have met none but singers of love
Thus I have met none but the debauched
For beautiful women, and seekers of gifts.
And seekers of reward.
ضاقَتgrew narrow بِهِfor him الدُنياthe world الرَحيبَةُthe spacious فَاِنثَنىso he turned
ضاقَت بِهِ الدُنيا الرَحيبَةُ فَاِنثَنى
بِالشِعرِthrough poetry يَستَجديhe begs from بَنيthe children of حَوّاءِEve
بِالشِعرِ يَستَجدي بَني حَوّاءِ
The spacious world grew narrow for him, so he turned
Though the world be spacious, it narrowed around them,
To begging Eve's children through poetry.
So they begged its fair ladies with verse.
شَقِيَsuffered القَريضُpoetry بِهِمbecause of them وَماand not سَعِدواdid they find happiness بِهِin it
شَقِيَ القَريضُ بِهِم وَما سَعِدوا بِهِ
لَولاهُمُwere it not for them أَضحىit would have become مِنَamong السُعَداءِthe happy
لَولاهُمُ أَضحى مِنَ السُعَداءِ
Poetry suffered through them, and they found no happiness in it;
Poetry was ruined by them, and they gained no good from it;
Without them, it would have been among the happy.
Without them, it would be one of the fortunate.
نادواthey called عَلَيناto us بِالمَحَبَّةِof love وَالهَوىand passion
نادوا عَلَينا بِالمَحَبَّةِ وَالهَوى
وَصُدورُهُمwhile their breasts طُبِعَتwere stamped عَلىwith البَغضاءِhatred
وَصُدورُهُم طُبِعَت عَلى البَغضاءِ
They proclaimed love and passion to us,
They called us to love and passion, yet their hearts
While their breasts were stamped with hatred.
Are imprinted with hatred and loathing.
أَلِفواthey grew accustomed to الرِياءَhypocrisy فَصارَso it became مِنamong عاداتِهِمtheir habits
أَلِفوا الرِياءَ فَصارَ مِن عاداتِهِم
لَعَنَmay ... curse المُهَيمِنُthe All-Watchful شَخصَthe person of كُلِّevery مُرائيhypocrite
لَعَنَ المُهَيمِنُ شَخصَ كُلِّ مُرائي
They grew accustomed to hypocrisy until it became their habit;
They have accustomed themselves to hypocrisy,
May the All-Watchful curse every hypocrite.
So the Guardian cursed each hypocrite.
إِنif يَغضَبواthey become angry مِمّاat what أَقولُI say فَطالَماfor how often
إِن يَغضَبوا مِمّا أَقولُ فَطالَما
كَرِهَhas hated الأَديبَthe man of letters جَماعَةُa crowd of الغَوغاءِthe rabble
كَرِهَ الأَديبَ جَماعَةُ الغَوغاءِ
If they rage at what I say, how often
If they are angry at what I say, often
Has the rabble hated the man of letters!
The literary man is hated by the foolish mob.
أَوor يُنكِرواthey deny أَدَبيmy literary worth فَلاthen do not تَتَعَجَّبواbe surprised
أَو يُنكِروا أَدَبي فَلا تَتَعَجَّبوا
فَالرَمدُfor the sore-eyed يُؤلِمُهُمpains them طُلوعُthe rising of ذَكاءِDhuka (the sun)
فَالرَمدُ يُؤلِمُهُم طُلوعُ ذَكاءِ
Or if they deny my literary worth, do not be surprised;
Or if they deny my literary merit, be not surprised,
For the rising of Dhuka, the sun, pains the sore-eyed.
For the blind are pained by the rising of brilliance.
أَوor كُلَّماwhenever نَصَرَchampioned الحَقيقَةَthe truth فاضِلٌa virtuous man
أَو كُلَّما نَصَرَ الحَقيقَةَ فاضِلٌ
قامَتarose عَلَيهِagainst him قِيامَةُa doomsday uproar السُفَهاءِthe fools
قامَت عَلَيهِ قِيامَةُ السُفَهاءِ
Or whenever a virtuous man champions truth,
Or whenever a worthy person supports the truth,
The fools raise a doomsday uproar against him.
The rabble rises against him.
أَناI ماnot وَقَفتُhave stood اليَومَtoday فيكُمamong you مَوقِفيmy stand
أَنا ما وَقَفتُ اليَومَ فيكُم مَوقِفي
إِلّاexcept لِأَندُبَto lament حالَةَthe plight of التُعَساءِthe wretched
إِلّا لِأَندُبَ حالَةَ التُعَساءِ
I have not taken my stand among you today
I stand before you today in my stance
Except to lament the plight of the wretched.
Only to lament the state of the wretched.
عَلّيperhaps I أُحَرِّكُmay stir بِالقَريضِwith poetry قُلوبَكُمyour hearts
عَلّي أُحَرِّكُ بِالقَريضِ قُلوبَكُم
إِنَّindeed القُلوبَhearts مَواطِنُdwelling places of الأَهواءِpassions
إِنَّ القُلوبَ مَواطِنُ الأَهواءِ
Perhaps I may stir your hearts with verse;
Perhaps I may stir your hearts with verse,
For hearts are the dwelling places of passions.
For hearts are the abode of passions.
لَهَفيmy grief! عَلىfor المُحتاجِthe needy man بَينَamong رُبوعِكُمyour dwellings
لَهَفي عَلى المُحتاجِ بَينَ رُبوعِكُم
يُمسيhe reaches evening وَيُصبِحُand reaches morning وَهوَwhile he is قَيدُa captive of شَقاءِmisery
يُمسي وَيُصبِحُ وَهوَ قَيدُ شَقاءِ
My grief for the needy man among your dwellings!
I yearn for the needy among you,
Evening and morning find him captive to misery.
Who wakes and sleeps fettered by misery.
أَمسىhave become سَواءًalike لَيلُهُhis night وَصَباحُهُand his morning
أَمسى سَواءً لَيلُهُ وَصَباحُهُ
شَتّانَhow different! بَينَbetween الصُبحِmorning وَالإِمساءِand evening
شَتّانَ بَينَ الصُبحِ وَالإِمساءِ
His night and morning have become alike,
His night and morning are equal,
Yet how different are morning and evening!
So different are morning and evening!
قَطَعَsevered القُنوطُdespair عَلَيهِfor him خَيطَthe thread of رَجائِهِhis hope
قَطَعَ القُنوطُ عَلَيهِ خَيطَ رَجائِهِ
وَالمَرءُand a person لاnot يَحياlives بِغَيرِwithout رَجاءِhope
وَالمَرءُ لا يَحيا بِغَيرِ رَجاءِ
Despair has severed the thread of his hope,
Despair has cut off the thread of his hopes,
And a man cannot live without hope.
And man cannot live without hope.
لَهفيmy grief! وَلَوand if أَجدىcould benefit التَعيسُthe wretched man تَلَهُّفيmy grieving
لَهفي وَلَو أَجدى التَعيسُ تَلَهُّفي
لَسَفَكتُI would surely pour out دَمعيmy tears عِندَهُbeside him وَدِمائيand my blood
لَسَفَكتُ دَمعي عِندَهُ وَدِمائي
My grief! If my grieving could help the wretched man,
I yearn, and if my yearning could avail the miserable,
I would pour out my tears beside him, and my blood.
I would shed my tears over him along with my blood.
قُلsay لِلغَنِيِّto the rich man المُستَعِزِّwho takes pride بِمالِهِin his wealth
قُل لِلغَنِيِّ المُستَعِزِّ بِمالِهِ
مَهلاًhold back! لَقَدindeed أَسرَفتَyou have exceeded bounds فيin الخُيَلاءِarrogance
مَهلاً لَقَد أَسرَفتَ في الخُيَلاءِ
Tell the rich man who takes pride in his wealth:
Say to the wealthy man arrogant with his money:
Hold back! You have gone too far in arrogance.
Gently! You have been excessive in your conceit!
جُبِلَwas fashioned الفَقيرُthe poor man أَخوكَyour brother مِنfrom طينٍclay وَمِنand from
جُبِلَ الفَقيرُ أَخوكَ مِن طينٍ وَمِن
ماءٍwater وَمِنand from طينٍclay جُبِلتَyou were fashioned وَماءِand water
ماءٍ وَمِن طينٍ جُبِلتَ وَماءِ
The poor man, your brother, was fashioned from clay and from
The destitute was created from clay and from
Water; from clay and water you too were fashioned.
Water, and from clay and water you were created.
فَمِنَso it is of القَساوَةِcruelty أَنthat تَكونَyou should be مُنَعَّماًliving in luxury
فَمِنَ القَساوَةِ أَن تَكونَ مُنَعَّماً
وَيَكونُwhile he is رَهنَhostage to مَصائِبٍcalamities وَبَلاءِand affliction
وَيَكونُ رَهنَ مَصائِبٍ وَبَلاءِ
It is cruel for you to live in luxury
How cruel that you should enjoy plenty
While he is hostage to calamities and affliction,
While he is captive to afflictions and tribulation,
وَتَظَلُّand you continue تَرفُلُto strut بِالحَريرِin silk أَمامَهُbefore him
وَتَظَلُّ تَرفُلُ بِالحَريرِ أَمامَهُ
فيat حينِa time when قَدindeed أَمسىhe has become بِغَيرِwithout كِساءِa garment
في حينِ قَد أَمسى بِغَيرِ كِساءِ
And to keep strutting in silk before him,
That you remain reveling in silk before him
While he has come to have no clothing.
While he passed the night without a garment!
أَتَضِنُّdo you begrudge بِالدينارِwith a dinar فيin إِسعافِهِaiding him
أَتَضِنُّ بِالدينارِ في إِسعافِهِ
وَتَجودُyet you lavish بِالآلافِwith thousands فيon الفَحشاءِdebauchery
وَتَجودُ بِالآلافِ في الفَحشاءِ
Do you begrudge a dinar to come to his aid,
Are you miserly in giving him relief,
Yet lavish thousands on debauchery?
Yet spend thousands on immorality?
اُنصُرhelp أَخاكَyour brother فَإِنfor if فَعَلتَyou do كَفَيتَهُyou will spare him
اُنصُر أَخاكَ فَإِن فَعَلتَ كَفَيتَهُ
ذُلَّthe humiliation of السُؤالِbegging وَمِنَّةَand the patronizing favors of البُخَلاءِthe misers
ذُلَّ السُؤالِ وَمِنَّةَ البُخَلاءِ
Help your brother; if you do, you will spare him
Help your brother, for if you do, you will spare him
The humiliation of begging and the misers' patronizing favors.
The humiliation of begging and the grace of the miserly.
أَذويO possessors of اليَسارَwealth وَماand not اليَسارُwealth بِنافِعٍof use
أَذوي اليَسارَ وَما اليَسارُ بِنافِعٍ
إِنif لَمnot يَكُنare أَهلوهُits possessors أَهلُpeople of سَخاءِgenerosity
إِن لَم يَكُن أَهلوهُ أَهلُ سَخاءِ
O possessors of wealth! Yet wealth is of no use
Bring ease to the prosperous, but prosperity benefits not
Unless its possessors are generous.
Unless its people are endowed with generosity.
كَمhow much ذاthis الجُحودِingratitude وَمالُكُمwhile your wealth رَهنُhostage to البَلاdecay
كَم ذا الجُحودِ وَمالُكُم رَهنُ البَلا
وَبِمَand why الغُرورُconceit وَكُلُّكُمwhile all of you لِفَناءِdestined for extinction
وَبِمَ الغُرورُ وَكُلُّكُم لِفَناءِ
How much ingratitude, when your wealth is hostage to decay!
What ingratitude is this, when your wealth is hostage to misfortune,
And why such conceit, when all of you are destined to perish?
And why such pride, when all of you are unto annihilation?
إِنَّindeed الضَعيفَthe weak بِحاجَةٍin need لِنُضارِكُمof your gold
إِنَّ الضَعيفَ بِحاجَةٍ لِنُضارِكُم
لاdo not تَقعُدواhold back عَنfrom نُصرَةِhelping الضُعَفاءِthe weak
لا تَقعُدوا عَن نُصرَةِ الضُعَفاءِ
The weak have need of your gold;
The frail are in need of your vigor;
Do not hold back from helping the weak.
Do not refrain from aiding the weak.
أَناI لاdo not أُذَكِّرُremind مِنكُمُamong you أَهلَthe people of النَدىgenerosity
أَنا لا أُذَكِّرُ مِنكُمُ أَهلَ النَدى
لَيسَis not الصَحيحُthe healthy بِحاجَةٍin need لِدَواءِof medicine
لَيسَ الصَحيحُ بِحاجَةٍ لِدَواءِ
I offer no reminder to the generous among you:
I do not remind the genteel people among you,
The healthy have no need of medicine.
For the healthy have no need of medicine.
إِنif كانَتِare الفُقَراءُthe poor لاnot تُجزيكُمreward you
إِن كانَتِ الفُقَراءُ لا تُجزيكُم
فَاللَهُthen God يُجزيكُمwill reward you عَنِon behalf of الفُقَراءِthe poor
فَاللَهُ يُجزيكُم عَنِ الفُقَراءِ
If the poor do not reward you,
If the destitute do not recompense you,
Then God will reward you on the poor's behalf.
Then God will recompense you for the destitute.
Partial English translation: 51 of 102 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1