ياO مَيِّتاًdead one فيهِin him جَمالُbeauty الحَياةlife
يا مَيِّتاً فيهِ جَمالُ الحَياة
ماnot حازَclaimed مِنكَof you اللَحدُthe grave إِلّاexcept الرُفاتthe remains
ما حازَ مِنكَ اللَحدُ إِلّا الرُفات
O dead one, in whom is the beauty of life,
O you who died with beauty still alive,
O dead one who holds the beauty of life,
The grave has claimed nothing of you but your remains.
The grave claimed only your mortal remains.
The grave has claimed nothing of you but mortal remains.
أَنتَyou الفَتىthe young man الباقيenduring بِئاثارِهِthrough his works
أَنتَ الفَتى الباقي بِئاثارِهِ
ماnot أَنتَyou بِالمَرءِa man إِذاwhen ماتَdies ماتdies
ما أَنتَ بِالمَرءِ إِذا ماتَ مات
You are the man who endures through his works;
You are the youth who stays, by your effects,
You are the man who remains through his legacy;
You are not a man who, when he dies, is dead.
You did not die when death itself did die.
You are not the kind of man who simply ceases when he dies.
وَكَيفَand how يَمتَدُّextends إِلَيكَto you الرَدىdeath
وَكَيفَ يَمتَدُّ إِلَيكَ الرَدى
وَذاتُكَand your self الحَسناءُbeautiful فيin أَلفِa thousand ذاتself
وَذاتُكَ الحَسناءُ في أَلفِ ذات
And how could death reach you,
How can decay reach out its hand to you
How could destruction ever reach you,
while your beautiful self is in a thousand selves?
When your fair soul is one of countless throng?
When your beautiful self lives on in a thousand others?
إِذاif اِختَفىvanishes فيin الوَردِthe roses لَونُcolor الضُحىmidmorning
إِذا اِختَفى في الوَردِ لَونُ الضُحى
فَالذَنبُthen the fault ذَنبُthe fault الأَعيُنِthe eyes الناظِراتthat look
فَالذَنبُ ذَنبُ الأَعيُنِ الناظِرات
If the color of morning vanishes from the roses,
If dawn's hue disappears from within the rose
If the color of the morning light fades within the rose,
the fault lies with the eyes that look.
The fault lies with the vision, not the rose.
The fault lies only with the eyes that look upon it.
يُصَوِّحُwithers الزَهرthe flowers وَيَبقىand remains الشَذىthe fragrance
يُصَوِّحُ الزَهر وَيَبقى الشَذى
وَيَذهَبُand departs المَرءthe person وَتَبقىand remain الصِفاتthe qualities
وَيَذهَبُ المَرء وَتَبقى الصِفات
The flowers wither, and their fragrance remains;
The blossoms wither but the fragrance stays,
The flower withers, but the fragrance remains;
a man departs, and his qualities remain.
Man passes on but his good name remains.
The man departs, but his virtues endure.
ياO نائِماًsleeper أَغفىfell asleep عَنِaway from التُرَّهاتvain trifles
يا نائِماً أَغفى عَنِ التُرَّهات
إِنّيindeed I وَجَدتُfound المَوتَdeath فيin التُرَّهاتvain trifles
إِنّي وَجَدتُ المَوتَ في التُرَّهات
O sleeper, slumbering beyond vain trifles,
O you who sleep to life's delusions lost,
O sleeper who has closed his eyes to life's vanities,
I have found death in vain trifles.
I found that death was hidden in delusions.
I have found that true death lies in those very vanities.
أَإِنif (interrogative) مَضىpassed away نَقولُwe say اِنقَضىcame to an end
أَإِن مَضى نَقولُ اِنقَضى
إِذَنthen فَمِنso from أَينَwhere تَجيءُcomes الحَياةlife
إِذَن فَمِن أَينَ تَجيءُ الحَياة
If he has passed away, do we say he is no more?
If the past is gone, do we say, "It is gone"?
When one passes, do we say he has ended?
Then where does life come from?
From where, then, does life keep coming anew?
If so, from where does life arise?
أَلَيسَis it not دُنياthe world الصَحوِwakefulness دُنياthe world الكَرىsleep
أَلَيسَ دُنيا الصَحوِ دُنيا الكَرى
وَمِثلُand like ظِلِّthe shadow العَيشِlife ظُلُّthe shadow المَماتdeath
وَمِثلُ ظِلِّ العَيشِ ظُلُّ المَمات
Is not the world of waking the world of sleep?
Is not this waking world the world of dreams
Is not the waking world the same as the world of slumber?
And death's shadow is like life's shadow.
While death's mere shadow darkens worldly joy?
And the shadow of death is but like the shadow of life.
تُقَسِّمُdivide الأَشياءَthings أَفهامُناour understandings
تُقَسِّمُ الأَشياءَ أَفهامُنا
وَلَيسَتِand is not النَخلَةُthe palm tree إِلّاexcept النَواةthe seed
وَلَيسَتِ النَخلَةُ إِلّا النَواة
Our understandings divide things,
Our minds divide all things in categories -
Our limited understanding divides things apart,
and the palm tree is nothing but the seed.
Yet the palm tree was once but a seed.
Yet the palm tree is nothing but the seed grown tall.
وَفيand in الغَدِtomorrow الأَمسyesterday وَلَكِنَّناand yet we
وَفي الغَدِ الأَمس وَلَكِنَّنا
لِلجَهلِbecause of ignorance قُلناwe said الدَهرُtime ماضpast وَآتand coming
لِلجَهلِ قُلنا الدَهرُ ماض وَآت
And yesterday is in tomorrow, but we,
Tomorrow is yesterday, and yet we say,
Yesterday resides within tomorrow, but we,
out of ignorance, said: time is past and future.
In ignorance, "The past is dead and gone."
Out of ignorance, say time is past and future.
بَعضُsome الرَدىdeath فيهِin it نَجاةُdeliverance الفَتىthe young man
بَعضُ الرَدى فيهِ نَجاةُ الفَتى
وَرُبَّماand sometimes كانَwas الرَدىdeath فيin النَجاةdeliverance
وَرُبَّما كانَ الرَدى في النَجاة
In some death lies a man's deliverance,
Part of death's secret implies survival,
In some forms of death lies a man's salvation,
and sometimes death lies in deliverance.
While dying may mean life for the steadfast soul.
And perhaps destruction lies within what we call safety.
ياO قُرَوِيّاًvillager عَظُمَتgrew great نَفسُهُhis soul
يا قُرَوِيّاً عَظُمَت نَفسُهُ
حَتّىuntil تَرَضَّتهاsought its favor نُفوسُthe souls العُتاةthe tyrants
حَتّى تَرَضَّتها نُفوسُ العُتاة
O villager whose soul grew so great
O you, the village magnified your soul,
O Villager whose soul grew so great,
that the souls of tyrants sought its favor,
Until base souls of tyrants it outgrew.
That even the souls of the arrogant bowed before it.
وَحَسَدَتهُand envied him الصَيدُthe proud lords فيin كوخِهِhis hut
وَحَسَدَتهُ الصَيدُ في كوخِهِ
وَحَسَدَتand envied قَريَتَهُhis village العاصِماتthe capitals
وَحَسَدَت قَريَتَهُ العاصِمات
and proud lords envied him in his hut,
The prey in your hut envied your lot,
The mighty kings envied him in his humble hut,
and capitals envied his village.
While cities envied the village you knew.
And the great capitals envied his small village.
تِلكَthose السَجاياvirtues لَمnot تزَلcease بَينَناamong us
تِلكَ السَجايا لَم تزَل بَينَنا
ساطِعَةًshining كَالأَنجُمِlike the stars الزاهِراتradiant
ساطِعَةً كَالأَنجُمِ الزاهِرات
Those virtues are still among us,
Those high traits shine still brightly amongst us,
Those noble traits remain here among us,
shining like radiant stars.
As the stars which glitter and glow in the sky.
Shining brightly like radiant stars.
وَعِلمُكَand your knowledge الزاخِرُabundant باقٍremaining لَناfor us
وَعِلمُكَ الزاخِرُ باقٍ لَنا
ماas long as بَقِيَتremains فيon الأَرضِthe earth أُمُّthe mother اللُغاتlanguages
ما بَقِيَت في الأَرضِ أُمُّ اللُغات
And your abundant knowledge remains ours,
Your wisdom's bounty is lasting for us.
Your vast knowledge remains with us,
as long as the mother of languages remains on earth,
While the Mother Tongue lives, your words will not die.
As long as the Mother of Tongues remains on earth.
فيin أَنفُسِthe souls الناسpeople وَأَلبابُهُمand their minds
في أَنفُسِ الناس وَأَلبابُهُم
وَفيand in بُطونِthe pages السَيرِthe biographies الخالِداتimmortal
وَفي بُطونِ السَيرِ الخالِدات
in people's souls and minds,
Deep in men's souls, deep in time's record scrolls, Deep midst the pearls of poesy's necklace bright,
In the souls of people and within their minds,
and in the pages of immortal biographies,
Your life still glows.
And within the depths of immortal chronicles.
وَفيand in تَلاميذِكَyour pupils أَهلِpeople of الحِجىunderstanding
وَفي تَلاميذِكَ أَهلِ الحِجى
وَالأَدَبِand refinement الجَمِّabundant الجَميلِbeautiful السِماتthe traits
وَالأَدَبِ الجَمِّ الجَميلِ السِمات
and in your pupils, people of understanding
With some, song flows as dew in the rose,
In your disciples, men of intellect,
and abundant refinement, beautiful in its traits:
Your spirit in them love songs reciting.
And of vast culture and beautiful character.
مِنamong شاعِرٍa poet كَالرَوضِlike a garden أَشعارُهُhis poems
مِن شاعِرٍ كَالرَوضِ أَشعارُهُ
تَسمَعُhears هَمسَthe whisper الحُبِّlove فيهِin it الفَتاةthe maiden
تَسمَعُ هَمسَ الحُبِّ فيهِ الفَتاة
among them, a poet whose verses are like a garden,
Others - their words like those gleaned from the lute -
From a poet whose verses are like a lush garden,
where a maiden hears the whisper of love;
Seem stolen from minstrels in hour of delight.
Where the young maiden hears the whispers of love.
وَسامِرٍand an evening companion تَحسَبُyou think أَقوالَهُhis words
وَسامِرٍ تَحسَبُ أَقوالَهُ
مَسروقَةًstolen مِنfrom مُقَلِthe eyes الغانِياتthe beautiful women
مَسروقَةً مِن مُقَلِ الغانِيات
and an evening companion whose words you think
Others - their styles with rays of light suffused,
And a storyteller whose words you would deem,
stolen from the eyes of beautiful women;
Like jewels exquisite, finely fused.
Stolen from the enchanting eyes of beauties.
وَكاتِبٍand a writer تُشرِقُshine أَلفاظُهُhis words
وَكاتِبٍ تُشرِقُ أَلفاظُهُ
كَالدُرَرِlike the pearls المُختارَةِchosen المُنتَقاةcarefully selected
كَالدُرَرِ المُختارَةِ المُنتَقاة
and a writer whose words shine
Some followers' hearts, like the meadows in Spring,
And a writer whose words shine forth,
like choice, carefully selected pearls;
Your wisdom's impress fair flowerets bringing.
Like choice, hand-picked pearls.
وَصُحُبٍand companions أَخلاقُهُمtheir characters كَالمُنىlike dreams
وَصُحُبٍ أَخلاقُهُم كَالمُنى
يَروُّنَthey recount عَنكَfrom you الحِكَمَthe maxims الغالِياتprecious
يَروُّنَ عَنكَ الحِكَمَ الغالِيات
and companions whose characters are like dreams,
Not even death could strike you down, O Oak!
And companions whose morals are like fondest wishes,
who pass on your precious maxims.
Towering, territories immense you cloaked.
Who narrate your precious wisdoms.
لَمnot يَختَرِمكِcut you down المَوتُdeath ياO دَوحَةًa spreading tree
لَم يَختَرِمكِ المَوتُ يا دَوحَةً
باسِقَةًtowering قَدindeed خَلَّفَتleft behind باسِقاتtowering trees
باسِقَةً قَد خَلَّفَت باسِقات
Death has not cut you down, O spreading tree,
Authority of Arabic's classical tongue,
Death has not severed you, O towering tree,
towering, having left other towering trees behind.
Ocean deep, Trusted Guide your whole life long.
A lofty trunk that has left behind lofty branches.
ياO حِجَّةَauthority الفُصحىclassical Arabic وَدُهقانَهاand her master
يا حِجَّةَ الفُصحى وَدُهقانَها
وَبَحرِهاand her sea الطاميsurging وَشَيخَand elder الثُقاتthe trustworthy
وَبَحرِها الطامي وَشَيخَ الثُقات
O authority on classical Arabic and her master,
Now the emphatic D sounds its dirge for you
O Authority of the Arabic tongue and its master,
and her surging sea, and elder of the trustworthy,
Present devotees and ages vanished do.
Its surging sea and the elder of the trustworthy.
الضادُḍād (Arabic) مِنfrom بَعدِكَafter you فيin مَأتَمٍmourning
الضادُ مِن بَعدِكَ في مَأتَمٍ
حاضِرُهاher present وَالأَعصُرُand the ages الغابِراتpast
حاضِرُها وَالأَعصُرُ الغابِرات
Arabic, the tongue of ḍād, is in mourning after you—
In Lebanon is only grief displayed;
The Arabic language is in mourning after you,
her present and the ages long past.
No more around Euphrates accolades.
Both in its present day and its past ages.
فَلَيسَso there is not فيin لُبنانَLebanon غَيرُother than الأَسىsorrow
فَلَيسَ في لُبنانَ غَيرُ الأَسى
وَلَيسَand there is not غَيرُother than الحُزنِgrief حَولَaround الفُراتthe Euphrates
وَلَيسَ غَيرُ الحُزنِ حَولَ الفُرات
So there is nothing in Lebanon but sorrow,
If one Mount grieves, grief will all summits shake - On every side sadness and sorrow awake.
In Lebanon there is nothing but sorrow,
and nothing but grief around the Euphrates.
Seventy years for its sake your quill wore down
And nothing but grief along the Euphrates.
فَمِنso whoever يُعَزّيconsoles جَبَلاًa mountain واحِداًone
فَمِن يُعَزّي جَبَلاً واحِداً
عَزّىconsoled الرَواسيthe steadfast mountains فيin جَميعِall الجِهاتdirections
عَزّى الرَواسي في جَميعِ الجِهات
For whoever consoles a single mountain
In the world of books and scrolls of high renown.
For whoever consoles a single mountain,
has consoled the steadfast mountains in every direction.
People talk on around, but you're in prayer,
Consoles the peaks in every corner of the earth.
سَلَخنَهاthey spent them سَبعينَseventy مِنfor أَجلِهاher sake
سَلَخنَها سَبعينَ مِن أَجلِها
فيin عالَمِthe realm الطِرسthe written page وَدُنياand the world الدُواةthe inkwell
في عالَمِ الطِرس وَدُنيا الدُواة
Seventy years were spent for her sake,
Like a worshipper deep in his devotions there.
You spent seventy years in its service,
in the realm of the written page and the world of the inkwell.
You sang the emphatic D in all its modes -
In the realm of parchment and the world of the inkwell.
الناسُpeople مِنfrom حَولِكَaround you فيin قَيلِهِمtheir midday rest
الناسُ مِن حَولِكَ في قَيلِهِم
وَأَنتَand you كَالعابِدِlike a worshipper وَقتَat the time of الصَلاةprayer
وَأَنتَ كَالعابِدِ وَقتَ الصَلاة
The people around you were at their midday rest,
To water-carriers and drunkards on the roads.
While people around you were lost in idle chatter,
while you were like a worshipper at prayer.
To it you gave back the prime of youth anew,
You were like a devotee at the hour of prayer.
غَنَّيتَyou sang بِالضادwith ḍād (Arabic) وَأَسرارِهاand her secrets
غَنَّيتَ بِالضاد وَأَسرارِها
عَنِabout الغَوانيbeautiful women وَالطَلاand wine وَالسُقاةand cupbearers
عَنِ الغَواني وَالطَلا وَالسُقاة
You sang with ḍād and her secrets
For love works magic in all it seeks to do.
You sang of Arabic and its mysteries,
of beautiful women, wine, and cupbearers.
So Arabic's being was thrilled to its roots
Of beautiful maidens, wine, and cupbearers.
أَنتَyou الَّذيthe one who رَدَّrestored إِلَيهاto her الصِباyouth
أَنتَ الَّذي رَدَّ إِلَيها الصِبا
إِنَّindeed الهَوىpassion يَجتَرِحُworks المُعجِزاتmiracles
إِنَّ الهَوى يَجتَرِحُ المُعجِزات
You are the one who restored her youth;
And water of beauty gushed through its words.
You are the one who restored its youth;
passion indeed works miracles.
Its horizons rang with your name everywhere,
Truly, passion can work miracles.
فَاِختَلَجَتso quivered أَوضاعُهاher forms بِالمُنىwith hopes
فَاِختَلَجَت أَوضاعُها بِالمُنى
وَجالَand coursed ماءُthe water الحُسنِbeauty فيthrough المُفرَداتthe words
وَجالَ ماءُ الحُسنِ في المُفرَدات
So her forms quivered with hopes,
In meadow and valley and mountain tops bare.
Its forms trembled with new hope,
and beauty's water coursed through the words.
The camel-drivers murmured it o'er and o'er,
And the essence of beauty flowed through its words.
وَلَهِجَتand resounded بِاِسمِكَwith your name آفاقُهاher horizons
وَلَهِجَت بِاِسمِكَ آفاقُها
وَرَدَّدَتهُand repeated it فيin البَوَديthe deserts الحُداةthe camel-drivers
وَرَدَّدَتهُ في البَوَدي الحُداة
And her horizons resounded with your name,
While their camels picked their way slow and sure.
Its horizons constantly recited your name,
and camel-drivers repeated it in the deserts.
O youth who seek glory, true glory's there
And camel drivers echoed it across the deserts.
وَحَنَّتِand yearned النوقُthe she-camels إِلىfor سَمعِهِhearing it
وَحَنَّتِ النوقُ إِلى سَمعِهِ
وَطَرِبَتand thrilled مِنat ذِكرِهِits mention الصافِناتthe poised steeds
وَطَرِبَت مِن ذِكرِهِ الصافِنات
The she-camels yearned to hear it,
In the souls who lived great lives free of all care.
Even the camels longed to hear it,
and the poised steeds thrilled at its mention.
O you who seek riches, better seek the best -
And noble steeds danced with joy at its mention.
فَياso O شَباباًyoung people يَطلُبونَthey seek العُلىgreatness
فَيا شَباباً يَطلُبونَ العُلى
إِنَّindeed العُلىgreatness لِلأَنفُسِfor the souls الماضِياتresolute
إِنَّ العُلى لِلأَنفُسِ الماضِيات
So, O young people who seek greatness,
The gifts which the generous know how to invest.
O youth who seek heights of glory,
greatness belongs to resolute souls.
This needy one gave though he suffered privation.
Glory belongs to determined souls.
وَياand O فَقيراًpoor man يَتَمَنّىlongs for الغِنىwealth
وَيا فَقيراً يَتَمَنّى الغِنى
هَلّاwhy not تَمَنَّيتَyou wished for غِنىthe wealth المَكرُماتnoble deeds
هَلّا تَمَنَّيتَ غِنى المَكرُمات
And O poor man who longs for wealth,
The best gifts are those of the soul and spirit.
And O poor man wishing for riches,
why not long for the wealth of noble deeds?
No seeker of bounty his threshold e'er crossed,
Why not wish for the wealth of noble deeds?
وَياand O سَراةًnobles يَبذُلونَthey give اللُهىgifts
وَيا سَراةً يَبذُلونَ اللُهى
هَذاthis فَقيرٌa poor man كانَwas يُعطيgives السُراةthe nobles
هَذا فَقيرٌ كانَ يُعطي السُراة
And O nobles who give gifts,
He thanked the good Lord for the blessings he lost.
And O chiefs who dispense gifts,
here is a poor man who used to give to nobles,
Though the thankless might spurn him and leave him alone,
Here is a poor man who used to give to the chiefs.
وَِنand from (text unclear) روحِهِhis spirit لاnot فَيضِthe abundance أَموالِهِhis wealth
وَِن روحِهِ لا فَيضِ أَموالِهِ
إِنَّindeed هِباتِthe gifts الروحِthe spirit أَسمىthe highest الهِباتgifts
إِنَّ هِباتِ الروحِ أَسمى الهِبات
from his spirit, not from the abundance of his wealth.
His gifts travelled on with the men generous known.
From his spirit, not from overflowing coffers;
Indeed, gifts of the spirit are the highest gifts.
So he was like a planet around which do steer,
For gifts of the spirit are the most sublime.
لاnot يَقتَضيdemands قاصِدُهُone who seeks him حَمدَهُpraise of him
لا يَقتَضي قاصِدُهُ حَمدَهُ
وَيَشكُرُand thanks العافيthe seeker of bounty الَّذيwho قالَsaid هَتgive!
وَيَشكُرُ العافي الَّذي قالَ هَت
He demands no praise from anyone who seeks him,
In its orbit, the travellers both far and near.
One who sought him needed not to praise him,
and he thanks the seeker of bounty who said, ‘Give!’
He was like the rain when it first wets the plain,
And he would thank the seeker who asked, "Give."
وَإِنand if مَضىdeparted العافونَthe seekers of bounty عَنfrom بابِهِhis door
وَإِن مَضى العافونَ عَن بابِهِ
سارَتwent عَطاياهُhis gifts وَراءَafter العُفاةthe seekers of bounty
سارَت عَطاياهُ وَراءَ العُفاة
And if the seekers of bounty left his door,
Bringing nurture to gravel, to flowers and grain.
And when the seekers departed from his door,
his gifts followed the seekers.
Like a spring people used, both the noble and base -
His gifts followed behind them.
فَكانَso he was كَالكَوكَبِlike a star يَمشيtravels عَلىby
فَكانَ كَالكَوكَبِ يَمشي عَلى
ضِيائِهِits light الرَكبthe caravan وَذِئبُand the wolf الفَلاةthe wilderness
ضِيائِهِ الرَكب وَذِئبُ الفَلاة
So he was like a star: journeying by
Puritan calm and corrupted in case.
He was like a star, by whose light
its light were the caravan and the desert wolf.
He was like the sky, limitless, rapt, serene -
Both the caravan and the desert wolf travel.
وَكانَand he was كَالغَيثِlike rain إِذاwhen ما(for emphasis) هَمىpoured down
وَكانَ كَالغَيثِ إِذا ما هَمى
أَصابَfell upon فيon الأَرضِthe earth الحَصىthe pebbles وَالنَباتand plants
أَصابَ في الأَرضِ الحَصى وَالنَبات
And he was like rain: whenever it poured,
Where the pure and profane, all unruffled, are seen.
He was like the rain which, when it falls,
it fell upon pebbles and plants on the earth.
O planter of gardens, sleep now carefree,
Touches both the pebbles and the plants.
وَكانَand he was كَاليَنبوعِlike a spring يَرتادُهُseeks it out
وَكانَ كَاليَنبوعِ يَرتادُهُ
ذوone with الشِيَمِcharacter traits الحُسنىgood وَذوand one with السَيِّئاتevil deeds
ذو الشِيَمِ الحُسنى وَذو السَيِّئات
And he was like a spring sought out by
For in death ends at last all complaining.
He was like a spring, visited alike
those of good character and those of evil deeds.
No water is gone which but comes back as stream,
By the virtuous and the sinner.
وَكَالفَضاءِand like open space الرَحبِvast فيin حِلمِهِhis forbearance
وَكَالفَضاءِ الرَحبِ في حِلمِهِ
يَضطَرِبُflutters about البازيthe hawk بِهin it وَالقُطاةand the sandgrouse
يَضطَرِبُ البازي بِه وَالقُطاة
And in his forbearance he was like vast open space,
Makes the fields laugh with life, and the gardens green.
And like the vast sky in his forbearance,
where the hawk and the sandgrouse flutter about.
Where both the hawk and the sandgrouse fly.
ياO صاحِبَmaster البُستانِthe garden نَمsleep آمِناًsecure
يا صاحِبَ البُستانِ نَم آمِناً
فَإِنَّfor indeed فيin المَوتِdeath زَوالَthe end الشُكاةsuffering
فَإِنَّ في المَوتِ زَوالَ الشُكاة
O master of the garden, sleep secure,
O Master of the Orchard, sleep in peace,
for in death suffering comes to an end.
For in death all suffering ceases.
ماnot غابَvanished ماءٌwater غابَvanished تَحتَbeneath الثَرىthe soil
ما غابَ ماءٌ غابَ تَحتَ الثَرى
فَأَطلَعَthen brought forth النَبتthe plants وَأَحياand revived المَواتdead land
فَأَطلَعَ النَبت وَأَحيا المَوات
No water is lost that vanishes beneath the soil,
Water that sinks into the earth is not lost;
then brings forth plants and revives dead land.
It brings forth new growth and revives the barren land.
Partial English translation: 85 of 90 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1