هَجَرتُI abandoned القَوافيrhymes ماnot بِنَفسيin my soul مَلالَةٌweariness
هَجَرتُ القَوافي ما بِنَفسي مَلالَةٌ
سِوايَothers than me إِذاwhen اِشَتَّدَgrows harsh الزَمانُtime مَلولُeasily wearied
سِوايَ إِذا اِشَتَّدَ الزَمانُ مَلولُ
I abandoned rhymes, with no weariness in my soul;
I have abandoned rhyme, not out of my own boredom,
I forsook the rhymes, though my soul feels no weariness; yet others may tire when the times grow harsh.
Others grow weary when times grow harsh.
Except when the times grow difficult and troublesome.
But calamities hindered me from speaking—burdens that, were they to settle on a mountain, it would surely crumble.
وَلَكِنbut عَدَتنيhindered me أَنto أَقولَI compose حَوادِثٌcalamities
وَلَكِن عَدَتني أَن أَقولَ حَوادِثٌ
إِذاif نَزَلَتbefell بِالطَودِupon the mountain كادَnearly يَزولُmove from its place
إِذا نَزَلَت بِالطَودِ كادَ يَزولُ
But calamities kept me from composing,
But events have led me to speak of the misfortunes
I grew to loathe verses because their claimants are many, yet those who speak the truth are few.
That would almost dislodge a mountain if they befell it.
That could make even mountains fall when they descend.
For in these lands, a man is defined by his property and wealth, while all else is deemed superfluous.
وَبَغَّضَنيand made me loathe الأَشعارَpoetry أَنَّthat دُعاتَهاits advocates
وَبَغَّضَني الأَشعارَ أَنَّ دُعاتَها
كَثيرٌmany وَأَنَّand that الصادِقينَthe sincere قَليلُfew
كَثيرٌ وَأَنَّ الصادِقينَ قَليلُ
And I came to loathe poetry because its advocates
I've grown to hate poetry, for so many merely pretend
I fell silent as birds fall silent in a garden, after the garden withers and decay sweeps through the blooms.
Are many, while the sincere are few;
To be sincere though few of them really comprehend.
Nothing stirred me save for a tale I heard about the fair maidens—a tale as beautiful as the maidens themselves.
وَأَنَّand that الفَتىa young man فيin ذيthese الرُبوعِlands عَقارُهُhis real estate
وَأَنَّ الفَتى في ذي الرُبوعِ عَقارُهُ
وَأَموالَهُand his money وَالباقِياتُand the rest فُضولُsuperfluities
وَأَموالَهُ وَالباقِياتُ فُضولُ
And because, in these lands, a man is his property
To live in comfort, a young man needs income and riches,
In this tale I am no creative poet, but merely repeat what the narrators have told.
And his money; everything else is superfluous.
All else deemed by people as extra and worthless.
It concerns a man of noble folk, whose every ancestor was distinguished, high-born, and pure of lineage.
سَكَتُّI fell silent سُكوتَthe silence of الطَيرِbirds فيin الرَوضِthe garden بَعدَماafter
سَكَتُّ سُكوتَ الطَيرِ في الرَوضِ بَعدَما
ذَوىwithered الرَوضُthe garden وَاِجتاحَand ravaged النَباتَthe vegetation ذُبولُwithering
ذَوى الرَوضُ وَاِجتاحَ النَباتَ ذُبولُ
I fell silent as the garden's birds fell silent after
I fell silent like birds do when the meadows wilt,
He spent his days erecting structures of honor; achieving for himself and bestowing upon those who sought his aid.
The garden withered and withering ravaged its plants.
And vegetation withers, overwhelmed by death and guilt.
Then Fate suddenly razed the citadels of his glory, and clipped his talons, leaving him powerless and weak.
فَماso nothing هَزَّنيstirred me إِلّاexcept حَديثٌa tale سَمِعتُهُI heard it
فَما هَزَّني إِلّا حَديثٌ سَمِعتُهُ
عَنِabout الغيدِgraceful women كَالغيدِlike graceful women الحِسانِthe beautiful جَميلُbeautiful
عَنِ الغيدِ كَالغيدِ الحِسانِ جَميلُ
Nothing stirred me but a tale I heard
Till I heard a tale about a young man, so fine and elegant,
He plummeted as a star plummets to the earth; such is the way the nights turn against mankind.
Of graceful women, as lovely as the fair women themselves.
That inspired me again, for the story was beautiful and excellent.
Once he held might and dominion over his age; now, the calamities of the age hold dominion over him.
فَماso not أَناI فيin هَذيthis الحِكايَةِstory شاعِرٌa poet
فَما أَنا في هَذي الحِكايَةِ شاعِرٌ
وَلَكِنbut كَماas قالَsaid الرُواةُthe storytellers أَقولُI tell
وَلَكِن كَما قالَ الرُواةُ أَقولُ
So in this story I am no poet;
So in this account, I'm no poet in truth,
He possessed two thousand friends and companions, yet in his tribulation, he could not find a single one.
But I tell it as the storytellers told it.
Just repeating what the storytellers recount to the youth:
His comrades scattered from him as if he bore a terrible plague that baffled the healers.
فَتىًa young man مِنfrom سَراةِthe nobles of اناسِa people كُلُّall جُدودِهِhis forebears
فَتىً مِن سَراةِ اناسِ كُلُّ جُدودِهِ
سَرِيٌّeminent كَريمُnoble النَبعَتَينِthe two lineages نَبيلُhigh-born
سَرِيٌّ كَريمُ النَبعَتَينِ نَبيلُ
A young man of the people's nobility, whose every forebear
A young man from a noble line, all his ancestors elite,
Those who once swore by his name now disowned him, as a traitor disowns his ancient faith.
Was eminent, noble on both sides, and high-born,
Of pure and precious origin, virtuous and discrete.
He became like a vessel lost at sea, drifting aimlessly wherever the waves might toss it.
قَضىhe spent فيin اِبتِناءِbuilding المَكرُماتِnoble deeds زَمانَهُhis lifetime
قَضى في اِبتِناءِ المَكرُماتِ زَمانَهُ
يَنالُhe gains وَيَرجوهُand hope in him السِوىothers فَيُنيلُso he gives
يَنالُ وَيَرجوهُ السِوى فَيُنيلُ
Spent his lifetime building noble deeds;
He spent his life building his honorable name,
He nearly outstretched his hand to beg, held back only by a shred of patience lingering beneath his cloak.
He gained, and others looked to him, so he gave.
Seeking glory, which he gained, and widespread fame.
He sequestered himself lest people see his distress, so no hater could gloat and no critic could rejoice.
فَدَكَّthen razed مَبانيthe edifices of عِزِّهِhis glory الدَهرُtime بَغتَةًsuddenly
فَدَكَّ مَباني عِزِّهِ الدَهرُ بَغتَةً
وَقَلَّمَand clipped مِنهُfrom him الظُفرُthe claw فَهوَso he is كَليلُweakened
وَقَلَّمَ مِنهُ الظُفرُ فَهوَ كَليلُ
Then time suddenly razed the edifices of his glory,
But fate suddenly ruined the edifice of his might,
In a dwelling where Misery had unburdened its mount, and over which Ruin had dragged its heavy train.
And clipped his claw, leaving him weakened.
And fortune chipped away till he was battered and slight.
Its walls were shattered like his very ribs; within, despair was a silence, and sickness a restless guest.
هَوىhe fell مِثلَماjust as يَهويfalls إِلىto الأَرضِthe earth كَوكَبٌa star
هَوى مِثلَما يَهوي إِلى الأَرضِ كَوكَبٌ
كَذاكَthus اللَياليthe nights بِالأَنامِto humankind تَدولُbring reversals
كَذاكَ اللَيالي بِالأَنامِ تَدولُ
He fell as a star falls to earth;
He fell just as stars fall from the skies to the earth,
The wind passes over it, wailing and forlorn, and the star gazes down upon it with a dim, faint light.
Thus the nights turn the fortunes of humankind.
For time and life can take away one's value and worth.
When the full moon unveils its face upon the horizon, he watches it until it is swallowed by the setting.
وَكانَand there was لَهُfor him فيin الدَهرِtime بَطشٌmight وَصَولَةٌand mastery
وَكانَ لَهُ في الدَهرِ بَطشٌ وَصَولَةٌ
فَأَمسَتthen came to be عَلَيهِagainst him الحادِثاتُcalamities تَصولُassailing
فَأَمسَت عَلَيهِ الحادِثاتُ تَصولُ
And once he possessed might and mastery in the world;
Once, he ruled mightily, commanding awe,
For some, its beams are ropes of hope; but in his eyes, they are sharp arrowheads.
Then calamities came to assail him.
But now misfortunes assail him, clawing their paws.
Oh, how strange! Even the stars lead him astray, though their light serves as a guide for all other night-travelers.
وَكانَand there were لَهُfor him أَلفاtwo thousand خَليلٍclose friends وَصاحِبٍand companions
وَكانَ لَهُ أَلفا خَليلٍ وَصاحِبٍ
فَأَعوَزَهُthen he lacked عِندَin البَلاءِaffliction خَليلُa friend
فَأَعوَزَهُ عِندَ البَلاءِ خَليلُ
He had two thousand friends and companions;
He had a thousand friends and companions around,
Can an eye, wounded and veiled by curtains of scalding tears, ever find its way by the light of the moon?
Yet in adversity he lacked a single friend.
Yet when tested, among them loyalty could not be found.
The world slept, conquered by tranquility; why then was he alone conquered by a dazed stupor?
تَفَرَّقَscattered عَنهُaway from him صَحبُهُhis companions فَكَأَنَّماso it was as though
تَفَرَّقَ عَنهُ صَحبُهُ فَكَأَنَّما
بِهِin him مَرَضٌa disease أَعياbaffled الأُساةَthe healers وَبيلٌgrievous
بِهِ مَرَضٌ أَعيا الأُساةَ وَبيلٌ
His companions scattered from him, as though
His friends deserted him, as if he was diseased,
He pondered his sorrows and his wretched state, until life—though beautiful—became worthless in his sight.
He had a grievous disease that baffled the healers.
Weak, with no aid against misfortunes to give him release.
He reached for the knife with a hand so pure, it had refused to be seen begging from a miser.
وَأَنكَرَهُand disowned him مَنthose who كانَused to يَحلِفُswear بِاِسمِهِby his name
وَأَنكَرَهُ مَن كانَ يَحلِفُ بِاِسمِهِ
كَماas يُنكِرُdenies الدينَthe debt القَديمَold عَميلُa client
كَما يُنكِرُ الدينَ القَديمَ عَميلُ
And those who once swore by his name disowned him,
Those who had sworn by his name now no longer care,
He drew it near his chest, brandished the blade, and nearly drove it into his own heart.
As a client denies an old debt.
Like old religion renounced for one more debonair.
Suddenly, a figure hastened its steps toward him, and a gentle voice spoke through the gloom:
فَأَصبَحَso he became مِثلَlike الفُلكِthe ship فيin البَحرِthe sea ضائِعاًlost
فَأَصبَحَ مِثلَ الفُلكِ في البَحرِ ضائِعاً
يَميلُhe sways مَعَwith الأَمواجِthe waves حَيثُwherever تَميلُthey sway
يَميلُ مَعَ الأَمواجِ حَيثُ تَميلُ
So he became like a ship lost at sea,
He wanders like a ship adrift on the ocean swell,
"Stay your hand! For the hardship you bear shall vanish just as surely as this night must yield to dawn."
Swaying with the waves wherever they swayed.
Swaying wherever the waves may toss and propel.
Yes, she was one of our beneficent women—and truly, the reward for the beneficent is vast.
يَكادُhe nearly يَمُدُّstretches out الكَفَّthe hand لَولاbut for بَقِيَّةٌa remnant
يَكادُ يَمُدُّ الكَفَّ لَولا بَقِيَّةٌ
مِنَof الصَبرِpatience فيwithin ذاكَthat الرِداءِcloak تَجولُstirs
مِنَ الصَبرِ في ذاكَ الرِداءِ تَجولُ
He nearly stretched out his hand, but for a remnant
Only remnants of patience in his soul remain
Her soul refused to let sleep darken her eyelids, knowing the sufferer’s eyes were darkened only by insomnia.
Of patience still stirring within that cloak.
To curb his urge to cry out from the ceaseless pain.
She could not let smiles play upon her lips, knowing a wounded heart lay sick within her quarter.
زَوىsecluded نَفسَهُhimself كَيso that لاnot يَرىwould see الناسُpeople ضُرَّهُhis suffering
زَوى نَفسَهُ كَي لا يَرى الناسُ ضُرَّهُ
فَيَشمَتَand thus gloat قالٍa hater أَوor يُسَرَّbe gladdened عَذولُa faultfinder
فَيَشمَتَ قالٍ أَو يُسَرَّ عَذولُ
He secluded himself so people would not see his suffering,
He hides his grief from others' gloating eyes,
She cast a purse of gold toward him and withdrew, the light of joy radiating from her face.
Lest a hater gloat or a faultfinder rejoice.
Lest they glee at his fate and mock his cries.
No tongues of men recounted her deed, nor were drums beaten across the horizons to proclaim it.
بِدارٍin a house أَناخَmade kneel البُؤسُmisery فيهاin it رِكابَهُits riding camels
بِدارٍ أَناخَ البُؤسُ فيها رِكابَهُ
وَجُرَّتand were dragged عَلَيهاacross it لِلخَرابِof ruin ذُيولُtrailing skirts
وَجُرَّت عَلَيها لِلخَرابِ ذُيولُ
In a house where misery had made its camels kneel,
In a house that misery made its abode,
She did not give charity so the papers would publish her name, for neighbors and kin to admire.
And ruin's trailing skirts had been dragged across it;
Whose walls, like his ribs, fate had corroded.
Thus should the wealthy console the wretched; and I guarantee them the rewards of righteousness.
مُهَدَّمَةِbroken-down الجُدرانِthe walls مِثلَlike ضُلوعِهِhis ribs
مُهَدَّمَةِ الجُدرانِ مِثلَ ضُلوعِهِ
بِهاwithin it اليَأسُdespair صَمتٌsilence وَالسَقامُand sickness مَجولُa robe
بِها اليَأسُ صَمتٌ وَالسَقامُ مَجولُ
Its walls broken down, like his ribs,
Past it the winds howl, mournful tunes bellow,
For towering palaces, if void of kindness and charity, are nothing but empty ruins.
Within it, despair was silence, and sickness a robe.
While stars gaze sadly at its crumbling hollow.
The noblest tears a woman can shed are those that flow when the tears of the desperate fall.
تَمُرُّpasses عَلَيهاover it الريحُthe wind وَلهىdistraught حَزينَةًsorrowful
تَمُرُّ عَلَيها الريحُ وَلهى حَزينَةً
وَيَرنوand gazes إِلَيهاtoward it النَجمُthe star وَهوَwhile it is ضَئيلُfaint
وَيَرنو إِلَيها النَجمُ وَهوَ ضَئيلُ
The wind passed over it, distraught and sad,
When the moon rises bright on the horizon,
Know that a nation that does not honor its women is abased, even if it soars above the highest stars.
And the star gazed at it, faint.
For some, it's a beacon; for him, a hollow vision.
Every day in which they are not the shining suns is but a night, pitch-black and long.
إِذاwhen ماever تَجَلَّىappeared البَدرُthe full moon فيin الأُفقِthe horizon طالِعاًrising
إِذا ما تَجَلَّى البَدرُ في الأُفقِ طالِعاً
رَعاهُhe watched it إِلىuntil أَنthat يَعتَريهِovertakes it أُفولُsetting
رَعاهُ إِلى أَن يَعتَريهِ أُفولُ
Whenever the full moon appeared, rising on the horizon,
For though its light can guide lost souls in the dark,
All joy without them is sorrow, and all vitality without them is mere lethargy.
He watched it until it set.
His tear-drenched eyes discern no hopeful spark.
حِبالُcords of الأَمانيhope عِندَfor قَومٍsome people شُعاعِهِits rays
حِبالُ الأَماني عِندَ قَومٍ شُعاعِهِ
وَلَكِنَّهُbut it فيin مُقلَتَيهِhis two eyes نُصولُblades
وَلَكِنَّهُ في مُقلَتَيهِ نُصولُ
Its rays were cords of hope for some,
People sleep; tranquility reigns far and wide.
But in his eyes they were blades.
But anguish and sorrow in him collide.
فَياthen, oh عَجَباًwhat a wonder حَتّىeven النُجومُthe stars توضِلُّهُlead him astray
فَيا عَجَباً حَتّى النُجومُ توضِلُّهُ
وَفيwhile in نورِهاtheir light لِلمُدَلجينَfor night travelers دَليلُa guide
وَفي نورِها لِلمُدَلجينَ دَليلُ
How strange, then—even the stars lead him astray,
He ponders his grief and endless adversity,
While their light guides those who travel by night!
Till life seems vain, even if deemed lovely.
وَهَلand can تَهتَديfind its way بِالبَدرِby the full moon عَينٌan eye قَريحَةٌsore
وَهَل تَهتَدي بِالبَدرِ عَينٌ قَريحَةٌ
عَلَيهاover it مِنَof الدَمعِtears السَخينِhot سُدولُveils
عَلَيها مِنَ الدَمعِ السَخينِ سُدولُ
And can a sore eye find its way by the full moon,
He takes a knife, intending to end his pure life,
With veils of hot tears hanging over it?
Before it could witness more useless strife.
غَفاslept الناسُpeople وَاِستَولَتand settled عَلَيهِمover them سَكينَةٌcalm
غَفا الناسُ وَاِستَولَت عَلَيهِم سَكينَةٌ
فَماthen what بالُهُhis state اِستَولىtook hold عَلَيهِof him ذُهولُbewilderment
فَما بالُهُ اِستَولى عَلَيهِ ذُهولُ
The people slept, and calm settled over them;
He brings it closer to his chest, preparing to slice,
Then why was he overcome by bewilderment?
And leans to plunge it deep; his heart pays the price.
تَأَمَّلَhe reflected فيon أَحزانِهِhis sorrows وَشَقائِهِand his misery
تَأَمَّلَ في أَحزانِهِ وَشَقائِهِ
فَهانَso became worthless عَلَيهِto him العَيشُlife وَهوَthough it is جَميلُbeautiful
فَهانَ عَلَيهِ العَيشُ وَهوَ جَميلُ
He reflected on his sorrows and misery,
When a specter hurries toward him, urgent in pace,
So life, though beautiful, seemed worthless to him.
A gentle voice in the darkness says, laced with grace:
فَمَدَّso he stretched out إِلىtoward السِكّينِthe knife كَفّاًa hand نَقِيَّةًpure
فَمَدَّ إِلى السِكّينِ كَفّاً نَقِيَّةً
أَبَتrefused أَنto يَراهاsee it تَستَغيثُpleading for help بَخيلُa miser
أَبَت أَن يَراها تَستَغيثُ بَخيلُ
So he reached toward the knife with a pure hand,
"Stop now, for the sorrow you bear will soon be redressed,
Which refused to let a miser see it pleading for help.
When this long night ends, dawn shall glow at its best."
وَقَرَّبَهاand brought it close مِنto صَدرِهِhis chest ثُمَّthen هَزَّهاshook it
وَقَرَّبَها مِن صَدرِهِ ثُمَّ هَزَّها
وَكادَand nearly بِهاwith it نَحوَtoward الفُؤادِthe heart يَميلُhe inclines
وَكادَ بِها نَحوَ الفُؤادِ يَميلُ
He brought it close to his chest, then shook it,
A woman it was, one of the noblest in our clan,
And nearly turned it toward his heart.
For good women's rewards are generous and grand.
وَإِذاand suddenly شَبَحٌa figure يَستَعجِلُhastens الخَطوَthe steps نَحَُهُtoward him
وَإِذا شَبَحٌ يَستَعجِلُ الخَطوَ نَحَُهُ
وَصَوتٌand a voice لَطيفٌgentle فيin الظَلامِthe darkness يَقولُsays
وَصَوتٌ لَطيفٌ في الظَلامِ يَقولُ
And suddenly a figure hastened toward him,
She refused sleep to veil her eyes that night,
And a gentle voice in the darkness said:
While hearts grieved; hers remained alert and bright.
رُوَيدَكَtake your time فَالضَنكُfor the hardship الَّذيwhich أَنتَyou حامِلُbearing
رُوَيدَكَ فَالضَنكُ الَّذي أَنتَ حامِلُ
مَتىwhen زالَpasses هَذاthis اللَيلُnight سَوفَwill يَزولُpass
مَتى زالَ هَذا اللَيلُ سَوفَ يَزولُ
“Wait—for the hardship you bear
Her face refused to smile in the midst of this plight,
Will pass when this night is gone.”
Where agony filled each wounded heart with blight.
نَعَمyes هِيَshe إِحدىone of مُحسِناتِcharitable women نِسائِناour women
نَعَم هِيَ إِحدى مُحسِناتِ نِسائِنا
أَلاbehold إِنَّindeed أَجرَthe reward of المُحسِناتِcharitable women جَزيلُgreat
أَلا إِنَّ أَجرَ المُحسِناتِ جَزيلُ
Yes, she was one of our charitable women;
To him she tossed bread, then walked away,
Indeed, the reward of charitable women is great.
With joy shining on her face, lighting up her way.
أَبَتrefused نَفسُهاher soul أَنto يَكحَلَline with kohl النَومُsleep جَفنَهاher eyelid
أَبَت نَفسُها أَن يَكحَلَ النَومُ جَفنَها
وَجَفنُwhile the eyelid of المُعَنّىthe sufferer بِالسُهادِwith sleeplessness كَحيلُlined with kohl
وَجَفنُ المُعَنّى بِالسُهادِ كَحيلُ
Her soul refused to let sleep line her eyelid with kohl,
She told no one, seeking no fame or repute,
While the sufferer's eyelid wore sleeplessness as kohl;
Nor beat drums to boast of her vital repute.
وَأَنand to تَتَوَلّىtake possession of الاِبتِساماتُsmiles ثَغرَهاher lips
وَأَن تَتَوَلّى الاِبتِساماتُ ثَغرَها
وَفيwhile in الحَيِّthe neighborhood مَكلومُwounded الفُؤادِthe heart عَليلُailing
وَفي الحَيِّ مَكلومُ الفُؤادِ عَليلُ
Nor would she let smiles take possession of her lips,
She did good, not to see her name in the news,
While someone in the neighborhood was ailing, wounded at heart.
Trumpeted to neighbors from town to towns.
فَأَلقَتso she tossed إِلَيهِtoward him صُرَّةًa purse وَتَراجَعَتand withdrew
فَأَلقَت إِلَيهِ صُرَّةً وَتَراجَعَت
وَفيand on وَجهِهاher face نورُthe light of السُرورِjoy يَجولُmoves
وَفي وَجهِها نورُ السُرورِ يَجولُ
So she tossed him a purse and withdrew,
So should the wealthy remember the destitute!
And the light of joy played over her face.
I for the righteous women will vouch and refute
فَلَمso did not تَتَناقَلpass along صُنعَهاher deed أَلسُنُthe tongues of الوَرىhumankind
فَلَم تَتَناقَل صُنعَها أَلسُنُ الوَرى
وَلاnor قُرِعَتwere beaten فيin الخافِقينَthe East and West طُبولُdrums
وَلا قُرِعَت في الخافِقينَ طُبولُ
So people's tongues did not pass on her deed,
That towering mansions devoid of grace
Nor were drums beaten across East and West.
Are but barren edifices, a meaningless space!
لاnot أَحسَنَتshe did good كَيso that تُعلِنَannounce الصُحُفُthe newspapers إِسمَهاher name
لا أَحسَنَت كَي تُعلِنَ الصُحُفُ إِسمَها
فَتَعلَمَso might know جاراتٌfemale neighbors لَهاof hers وَقَبيلُand kin
فَتَعلَمَ جاراتٌ لَها وَقَبيلُ
She did not do good for newspapers to proclaim her name,
A woman's tears shed for others are most sincere,
And thereby make her neighbors and kin aware.
Unlike those let flow for fortunes insincere.
كَذاthus فَليُواسِso let them comfort البائِسينَthe wretched ذَوُpossessors of الغِنىwealth
كَذا فَليُواسِ البائِسينَ ذَوُ الغِنى
وَإِنّيand indeed I لَهُمfor them بِالصالِحاتِfor good deeds كَفيلُa guarantor
وَإِنّي لَهُم بِالصالِحاتِ كَفيلُ
Thus let the wealthy comfort the wretched;
For a nation not honoring its women
And I stand surety for their good deeds.
Is base and feeble, though appearing supreme.
فَإَِنَّfor indeed القُصورَthe palaces الشاهِقاتِlofty إِذاif خَلَتare empty
فَإَِنَّ القُصورَ الشاهِقاتِ إِذا خَلَت
مِنَof البِرِّgoodness وَالإِحسانِand charity فَهيَthen they are طُلولُruins
مِنَ البِرِّ وَالإِحسانِ فَهيَ طُلولُ
For lofty palaces, if devoid
Days without their light are gloom and darkness profound,
Of goodness and charity, are ruins.
And joys besides theirs are but sorrows abound.
وَخَيرُand the best دُموعِtears of الباكِياتِweeping women هِيَthey are الَّتيthose that
وَخَيرُ دُموعِ الباكِياتِ هِيَ الَّتي
مَتىwhenever سَلَflows دَمعُthe tears of البائِسينَthe wretched تَسيلُthey flow
مَتى سَلَ دَمعُ البائِسينَ تَسيلُ
And the best tears of weeping women are those
So nations must empower women within,
That flow whenever the tears of the wretched flow.
For life without their light is drear and grim.
أَلاbehold إِنَّindeed شَعباًa people لاnot تَعِزُّare honored نِسائَهُits women
أَلا إِنَّ شَعباً لا تَعِزُّ نِسائَهُ
وَإِنeven if طارَit soars فَوقَabove الفَرقَدَينِthe two Farqad stars ذَليلُabased
وَإِن طارَ فَوقَ الفَرقَدَينِ ذَليلُ
Know that a people whose women are not honored
Is abased, even if it soars above the two Farqad stars.
وَكُلُّand every نَهارٍday لاnot يَكُنَّthey are شُموسَهُits suns
وَكُلُّ نَهارٍ لا يَكُنَّ شُموسَهُ
فَذَلِكَthen that is لَيلٌa night حالِكٌpitch-dark وَطَويلُand long
فَذَلِكَ لَيلٌ حالِكٌ وَطَويلُ
And every day that does not have them as its suns
Is a night, pitch-dark and long.
وَكُلُّand all سُرورٍjoy غَيرَهُنَّwithout them كَآبَةٌgloom
وَكُلُّ سُرورٍ غَيرَهُنَّ كَآبَةٌ
وَكُلُّand all نَشاطٍvitality غَيرَهُنَّwithout them خُمولُlethargy
وَكُلُّ نَشاطٍ غَيرَهُنَّ خُمولُ
And all joy without them is gloom,
And all vitality without them is lethargy.
Partial English translation: 80 of 86 Arabic lines translated.
Partial English translation: 43 of 86 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1