مَرِضتُI fell ill فَأَرواحُso the spirits الصِحابِof the companions كَئيبَةٌsorrowful
مَرِضتُ فَأَرواحُ الصِحابِ كَئيبَةٌ
بِهاin them ماwhat بِنَفسيin my soul لَيتَwould that لَهاfor them فِدىa ransom
بِها ما بِنَفسي لَيتَ لَها فِدى
I fell ill, so my friends' spirits are sorrowful;
I fell ill, and my friends' spirits saddened,
I fell ill, and the spirits of my companions grew weary,
they bear what my soul bears; would that they had a ransom!
With grief for me, would that I could ransom them!
Suffering what I suffer—would that I could be their ransom.
تَرُفُّflutter حِياليbefore me كُلَّماwhenever أَغمَضَcloses الكَرىsleep
تَرُفُّ حِيالي كُلَّما أَغمَضَ الكَرى
جُفونيmy eyelids جَماعاتin groups وَمَثنىand in pairs وَمَوحِداand singly
جُفوني جَماعات وَمَثنى وَمَوحِدا
They flutter before me whenever sleep closes
They appear before me whenever sorrow closes my eyes,
They flutter around me whenever slumber seals...
my eyelids, in groups, in pairs, and singly.
In groups, in pairs, and alone.
...my eyelids, in crowds, in pairs, and alone.
تَراءىappear فَآناًthen at times كَالبُدورِlike full moons سَوافِراًunveiled
تَراءى فَآناً كَالبُدورِ سَوافِراً
وَآوِنَةًand at other times مِثلَlike الجُمانِpearls مُنَضَّداneatly arranged
وَآوِنَةً مِثلَ الجُمانِ مُنَضَّدا
They appear: now like unveiled full moons,
Sometimes I see them wandering as though they were
Appearing at times like full moons, unveiled and bright,
and now like pearls neatly arranged.
Asleep, having strayed upon the earth and slept,
And at others, like pearls strung in perfect array.
وَطَوراًand at times أَراهاI see them حائِراتٍbewildered كَأَنَّهاas though they
وَطَوراً أَراها حائِراتٍ كَأَنَّها
فَراقِدُFarqad stars قَدhave ضَيَّعنَlost فيon الأَرضِthe earth فَرقَداa Farqad star
فَراقِدُ قَد ضَيَّعنَ في الأَرضِ فَرقَدا
At times I see them bewildered, as though they
And sometimes I see them in fear as though
Sometimes I see them bewildered, as though they were...
were Farqad stars that had lost a Farqad star on earth.
They dread the darkness will disperse them.
...stars of the Little Bear that have lost their guiding mate on earth.
وَطَوراًand at times أَراهاI see them جازِعاتٍdistraught كَأَنَّماas though
وَطَوراً أَراها جازِعاتٍ كَأَنَّما
تَخافُthey fear مَعَwith الظَلماءِthe darkness أَنto تَتَبَدَّداbe scattered
تَخافُ مَعَ الظَلماءِ أَن تَتَبَدَّدا
At times I see them distraught, as though
Greetings to them, greetings!
And sometimes I see them in panic, as if...
they fear being scattered with the darkness.
My senses rush eagerly to them
...they fear being scattered amidst the darkness.
أَهينُّI yearn إِلَيهاfor them رائِحاتdeparting وَعُوَّداand returning
أَهينُّ إِلَيها رائِحات وَعُوَّدا
سَلامٌpeace عَليهاupon them رَإِحاتdeparting وَعُوَّداand returning
سَلامٌ عَليها رَإِحات وَعُوَّدا
I yearn for them, departing and returning.
As the lost man rejoiced seeing the light and was guided,
I yearn for them as they come and go like visitors,
Peace upon them, departing and returning.
And I give my hearing wherever they whisper
Peace be upon them in their leaving and their return.
تَهُشُّrejoice إِلَيهاtoward them مُقبِلاتٍas they approach جَوارِحيmy limbs
تَهُشُّ إِلَيها مُقبِلاتٍ جَوارِحي
كَماas طَرِبَrejoiced الساريthe night traveler رَأىhe saw النورَthe light فَاِهتَدىand found his way
كَما طَرِبَ الساري رَأى النورَ فَاِهتَدى
My limbs rejoice to welcome them as they approach,
As the eager ear takes in the lone voice.
My very senses rejoice as they draw near,
as a night traveler rejoices on seeing light and finding his way.
And sorrow overcomes me when they depart
As a night-traveler rejoices upon seeing a guiding light.
وَأُلقيand I lend إِلَيهاto them السَمعَmy ear ماas long as طالَlasts هَمسُهاtheir whispering
وَأُلقي إِلَيها السَمعَ ما طالَ هَمسُها
كَذَلِكَlikewise يَستَرعيdraws the attention of الأَذانُthe call to prayer المُوَحَّداthe monotheist
كَذَلِكَ يَستَرعي الأَذانُ المُوَحَّدا
I lend them my ear as long as their whispering lasts,
As flowers are sad when the dew abandons them.
I lend them my hearing for as long as their whispering lasts,
just as the call to prayer draws the monotheist's attention.
I hated the night ending fearing their end,
Just as the call to prayer captures the heart of the believer.
وَيَغلِبُand overwhelms نَفسيmy soul الحُزنُsorrow عِندَat رَحيلِهاtheir departure
وَيَغلِبُ نَفسي الحُزنُ عِندَ رَحيلِها
كَماas تَحزَنُgrieve الأَزهارُthe flowers زايَلَهاhas left them النَدىthe dew
كَما تَحزَنُ الأَزهارُ زايَلَها النَدى
Sorrow overwhelms my soul when they depart,
And I accustomed my eyes to sleep until they grew accustomed.
And sorrow overwhelms my soul when they depart,
as flowers grieve when the dew leaves them.
And if they stole to my bedside while I was awake
As flowers grieve when the morning dew forsakes them.
كَرِهتُI hated زَوالَthe passing اللَيلِof the night خَوفَfor fear of زَوالِهاtheir passing
كَرِهتُ زَوالَ اللَيلِ خَوفَ زَوالِها
وَعَوَّدتُand I accustomed طَرفيmy eye النَومَto sleep حَتّىuntil تَعَوَّداit grew accustomed
وَعَوَّدتُ طَرفي النَومَ حَتّى تَعَوَّدا
I hated the night's passing, fearing their passing,
I would protect my sorrowing eyes and live tearful,
I loathed the passing of the night, fearing their passing would follow,
and trained my eye to sleep until it grew accustomed.
And if their imaginations had not been accustomed to the like from me
And accustomed my eyes to slumber until they complied.
وَلَوand if أَنَّهاthat they فيin الصَحوِwakefulness تَطرُقُvisited مَضجَعيmy bed
وَلَو أَنَّها في الصَحوِ تَطرُقُ مَضجَعي
حَميتُI would bar الكَرىsleep جَفنيmy eyelid وَعِشتُand live مُسَهَّداsleepless
حَميتُ الكَرى جَفني وَعِشتُ مُسَهَّدا
If they visited my bed while I was awake,
Their fancies would have been fettered.
And if they were to visit my bed while I was awake,
I would shield my eyelid from sleep and live sleepless.
Oh would that I were a specter free to come and go,
I would banish sleep from my lids and live ever-watchful.
وَلَوand if لَمnot تَكُنwere تَعتادُregularly visiting مِنِّيَfrom me مِثلَهاtheir like
وَلَو لَم تَكُن تَعتادُ مِنِّيَ مِثلَها
خَيالاتِهاtheir phantoms هَمَّتwould seek بِأَنto تَتَقَيَّداbe bound
خَيالاتِها هَمَّت بِأَن تَتَقَيَّدا
And if their like did not go from me to visit
And would that they could fetter themselves!
And were they not accustomed to receiving the like from me,
their phantoms, they would seek to remain bound.
I wasted away until I almost denied my own image
Their phantoms would have sought to be fettered to stay.
فَياoh, then لَيتَنيwould that I طَيفٌa phantom أَروحI go at evening وَأَغتَديand go at morning
فَيا لَيتَني طَيفٌ أَروح وَأَغتَدي
وَياand oh لَيتَهاwould that they تَستَطيعُcould أَنto تَتَقَيَّداbe bound
وَيا لَيتَها تَستَطيعُ أَن تَتَقَيَّدا
Oh, would that I were a phantom, going at evening and morning!
And I fear that because of the intensity of my illness I will moan.
Oh, would that I were a phantom, to come and go freely,
And would that they could be held fast!
My nightly sojourn is like a frightened fox,
And would that they had the power to remain bound here.
نَحِلتُI grew thin إِلىto the point أَنthat كِدتُI nearly أُنكِرُfailed to recognize صورَتيmy form
نَحِلتُ إِلى أَن كِدتُ أُنكِرُ صورَتي
وَأَخشىand I fear لِفَرطِbecause of the severity of السُقمِillness أَنto أَتَنَهَّداsigh
وَأَخشى لِفَرطِ السُقمِ أَن أَتَنَهَّدا
I grew so thin I almost failed to recognize my own form,
And I fancy myself beyond description and range.
I have wasted away until I can barely recognize my own form,
and from the severity of illness I fear even to sigh.
It is as though the threads of the cradle were scorpions
And for the severity of my sickness, I fear even to sigh.
مَبيتيmy resting place عَلىon مِثلِthe like of الوَثيرِsoft cushioning لَيانَةًin softness
مَبيتي عَلى مِثلِ الوَثيرِ لَيانَةً
وَأَحسَبُنيand I imagine myself فَوقَabove الأَسِنَّةthe spearheads وَالمَدىand the knives
وَأَحسَبُني فَوقَ الأَسِنَّة وَالمَدى
My bed is as soft as plush cushioning,
And my pillow had become solid.
Though I lie upon a bed soft as down,
yet I think myself atop spearheads and knives.
The fever has come in full strength
It feels as though I rest upon spearpoints and blades.
كَأَنَّas though خُيوطَthe threads المَهدِof the bed صارَتhad become عَقارِباًscorpions
كَأَنَّ خُيوطَ المَهدِ صارَت عَقارِباً
كَأَنَّas though وِساديmy pillow قَدhad تَحَوَّلَturned جامِداhard
كَأَنَّ وِسادي قَد تَحَوَّلَ جامِدا
As though the bed's threads had become scorpions,
To straighten my twisting ribs.
As if the very threads of my cradle have turned to scorpions,
as though my pillow had turned hard.
It depicts to me the figure of imagination as reality
And my pillow has transformed into unyielding stone.
لَقَدindeed توشِكُnearly الحُمّىthe fever إِذwhen جَدَّgrew intense جَدُّهاits intensity
لَقَد توشِكُ الحُمّى إِذ جَدَّ جَدُّها
تُقَوِّمُstraightens مِنamong أَضلاعِيَmy ribs المُتَأَوِّداwhat is bent
تُقَوِّمُ مِن أَضلاعِيَ المُتَأَوِّدا
Indeed, when the fever rages in earnest, it nearly
And I take one person to be many.
Indeed, the fever, when its fury intensifies,
straightens what is bent among my ribs.
It has shaken me though keeping still, nor did
Threatens to straighten the curvature of my ribs.
تُصَوِّرُmakes appear ليto me طَيفَthe phantom الخَيالِof imagination حَقيقَةًas reality
تُصَوِّرُ لي طَيفَ الخَيالِ حَقيقَةً
وَأَحسَبُand I take شَخصاًa person واحِداًsingle مُتَعَدِّداfor many
وَأَحسَبُ شَخصاً واحِداً مُتَعَدِّدا
It makes imagination's phantom seem real to me,
The turning of fate shake me when it turned.
It paints the phantom of imagination as reality before me,
and I take a single person for many.
When I prop my head in my hands
And I perceive a single figure as a multitude.
لَقَدindeed ضَعضَعَتنيit has shaken me وَهِيَwhile it is سِرa secret وَلَمand not يَكُنwas
لَقَد ضَعضَعَتني وَهِيَ سِر وَلَم يَكُن
يُضَعضِعُنيshake me صرِفُthe vicissitudes الزَمانِof time إِذاwhen عَداit assailed
يُضَعضِعُني صرِفُ الزَمانِ إِذا عَدا
It has indeed shaken me, though it is unseen; yet never
It casts me off with that which enfeebles the hands.
It has shattered me, though it is but a hidden secret,
did time's vicissitudes shake me when they assailed.
Its burning penetrated my thin body
While the harsh blows of Fate could never shake me.
إِذاwhen ماemphasis أَناI أَسنَدتُrested رَأسيmy head إِلىon يَديmy hand
إِذا ما أَنا أَسنَدتُ رَأسي إِلى يَدي
رَمتنيit struck me مِنهاfrom itself بِالَّذيwith what يوهِنُweakens اليَداthe hand
رَمتني مِنها بِالَّذي يوهِنُ اليَدا
Whenever I rest my head upon my hand,
So that had I not cast off my clothes it would have ignited.
If I attempt to prop my head upon my hand,
it strikes me with something of itself that weakens the hand.
I saw that which people do not see in sleep
The fever strikes me with a weakness that collapses the hand.
تَغَلغَلَpenetrated فيthrough جِسميmy body النَحيلِfrail أُوارُهاits burning heat
تَغَلغَلَ في جِسمي النَحيلِ أُوارُها
فَلَوso had لَمnot أُقَدَّI torn الثَوبَthe garment عَنهُfrom it تَوَقَّداit would blaze
فَلَو لَم أُقَدَّ الثَوبَ عَنهُ تَوَقَّدا
Its burning heat has seeped through my frail body,
And I toured the lands East and West in slumber.
Its scorching heat has penetrated my wasted body;
so had I not torn the garment from it, it would have blazed.
The diver says, "If you had endured but an hour you would have pearls,"
Were I not to tear away my robe, it would surely burst into flame.
رَأَيتُI saw الَّذيwhat لَمnot يُبصِرِhad seen الناسَpeople نائِماًwhile asleep
رَأَيتُ الَّذي لَم يُبصِرِ الناسَ نائِماً
وَطُفتُand I roamed الدُنىthe worlds شَرقاeastward وَغَرباًand westward مُوَسَّداpillowed
وَطُفتُ الدُنى شَرقا وَغَرباً مُوَسَّدا
I saw in sleep what people had never seen,
Would that I could endure to have pearls!
I have seen visions unknown to those who sleep,
and roamed the worlds, east and west, while pillowed in bed.
Whispering goes on around me and they point the finger and accuse;
And roamed the world, east and west, while bound to my pillow.
يَقولُsays النُطاسيthe skilled physician لَوif only تَبَلَّدتَyou would stop thinking ساعَةًan hour
يَقولُ النُطاسي لَو تَبَلَّدتَ ساعَةً
تَبَلَّدتُI would stop thinking لَوif أَنّيthat I أُطيقُcould endure التَبَلُّداnot thinking
تَبَلَّدتُ لَو أَنّي أُطيقُ التَبَلُّدا
The skilled physician says, 'If only you would stop thinking for an hour!'
Some of the ignorant disparage and deride.
The physician says, "If only you could be numb for an hour..."
I would stop thinking, if I could endure not thinking.
I am hurt only by the gloating of a company
I would be numb, if only I possessed the capacity for numbness.
تَهامَسَwhispered together حَوليaround me العائِدونthe sickbed visitors وَرَجَّمواand conjectured
تَهامَسَ حَولي العائِدون وَرَجَّموا
وَعَنَّفَand rebuked بَعضُsome الجاهِلينof the ignorant وَفَنَّداand called me foolish
وَعَنَّفَ بَعضُ الجاهِلين وَفَنَّدا
The sickbed visitors whispered around me and guessed,
In whom I hoped for aid in adversity.
The visitors whispered around me, casting dark conjectures,
and some ignorant men rebuked me and called me foolish.
I did them no wrong! Nay, they did wrong, for I thought them
While some of the ignorant offered rebuke and refutation.
فَماbut nothing ساءَنيdistressed me إِلّاexcept شَماتَةُthe gloating مَعشَرٍof a group
فَما ساءَني إِلّا شَماتَةُ مَعشَرٍ
رَجَوتُI had hoped بِهِمfrom them عِندَin الشَدائِدِhardships مُسعِداfor a helper
رَجَوتُ بِهِم عِندَ الشَدائِدِ مُسعِدا
But nothing distressed me except the gloating of a group
Of gentle nature and without rancor.
Yet nothing pained me but the gloating of a crowd,
from whom I had hoped for help in hardship.
A people loved privation because I tasted it
In whom I had hoped to find support in times of hardship.
أَسَأتُI wronged إِلَيهِمthem بَلrather أَساؤواthey wronged فَإِنَّنيfor I
أَسَأتُ إِلَيهِم بَل أَساؤوا فَإِنَّني
ظَنَنتُهُمI thought them شَراوِيَmy equals خُلقاin character وَمَحتِداand in lineage
ظَنَنتُهُم شَراوِيَ خُلقا وَمَحتِدا
I wronged them—rather, they wronged me—for I
And loved it so it would be envied and rivaled.
Did I wrong them? Nay, it is they who wronged, for I...
thought them my equals in character and lineage.
And some wished that destruction would hurry me
...mistakenly thought them my equals in character and nobility.
أَحَبَّloved الضَنىwasting sickness قَومٌsome people لِأَنّيbecause I ذُقتُهُtasted it
أَحَبَّ الضَنى قَومٌ لِأَنّي ذُقتُهُ
وَأَحبَبتُهُand I loved it كَيماso that يُحِبit might be loved وَيُحسَداand envied
وَأَحبَبتُهُ كَيما يُحِب وَيُحسَدا
Some people loved sickness because I had tasted it,
As though I hoped to be immortalized by them!
Some loved the very existence of illness because I tasted it,
and I loved it so that it might be loved and envied.
They are not guaranteed against death, but
And I loved it in return, so that I might be envied even in pain.
وَوَدَّand wished أُناسٌsome people لَوthat يُعاجِلُنيwould swiftly take me الرَدىdeath
وَوَدَّ أُناسٌ لَو يُعاجِلُني الرَدى
كَأَنِّيَas though I أَرجوhope فيهِمamong them أَنto أُخَلَّداlive forever
كَأَنِّيَ أَرجو فيهِم أَن أُخَلَّدا
And some wished that death would swiftly take me,
He whose night is sleepless wishes the sun to set.
There are those who wished for death to claim me quickly,
as though I hoped to live forever among them.
If the night wearies him in contending with the dawn
As if I were pleading to live among them forever.
وَماand not ضَمِنواthey have guaranteed أَنthat لاnot يَموتواthey will die وَإِنَّماit is only that
وَما ضَمِنوا أَن لا يَموتوا وَإِنَّما
يَوَدُّwishes زَوالَthe disappearance الشَمسِof the sun مَنwhoever كانَis أَرمَداsore-eyed
يَوَدُّ زَوالَ الشَمسِ مَن كانَ أَرمَدا
They have no guarantee that they will not die; it is only that
He wishes that the morn would dawn black.
They have no guarantee against death themselves; rather,
one with sore eyes wishes the sun would disappear.
Yet I, though sickness eats my marrow,
It is the one with diseased eyes who wishes the sun to vanish.
إِذاwhen اللَيلَthe night أَعياهُhas wearied it مُساجَلَةَcompeting with الضُحىthe morning light
إِذا اللَيلَ أَعياهُ مُساجَلَةَ الضُحى
تَمَنَّيit wished لَوif only أَنَّthat الصُبحَthe morning أَصبَحَwould become أَسوَداblack
تَمَنَّي لَو أَنَّ الصُبحَ أَصبَحَ أَسوَدا
When night is worn out competing with morning light,
See disgrace - the greatest disgrace - in envying the rival!
When the night grows weary of battling the morning light,
it wishes that morning would dawn black.
For what is in the body must inevitably pass away
It wishes that the dawn itself would turn to blackness.
عَلىdespite أَنَّنيthat I وَالداءُwhile disease يَأكُلُdevours مُهجَتيmy life's blood
عَلى أَنَّني وَالداءُ يَأكُلُ مُهجَتي
أَرىconsider العارَshame كُلَّall العارِthe shame أَنto أَحسُدَenvy العِدىthe enemies
أَرى العارَ كُلَّ العارِ أَن أَحسُدَ العِدى
Yet I, though disease devours my life's blood,
While what is in the nature cannot cease forever.
Yet, even as the disease devours my very lifeblood,
see utter shame in envying my enemies.
If the rabble gather around me and are vulgar
I deem it the utmost shame to bear envy toward my foes.
فَإِنَّfor indeed الَّذيwhat بِالجِسمِin the body لاno بُدَّescape زائِلُpassing away
فَإِنَّ الَّذي بِالجِسمِ لا بُدَّ زائِلُ
وَلَكِنَّbut ماnot بِالطَبعِin one's character يَنفَكُّceases سَرمَداever
وَلَكِنَّ ما بِالطَبعِ يَنفَكُّ سَرمَدا
For what afflicts the body must pass away,
How many vilified Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad!
For that which afflicts the body must surely pass,
but in one's character it never ceases.
It is no wonder if an ignoramus hates the free
But that which is ingrained in one's nature remains eternal.
لَئِنeven if أَجلَبَraise a clamor الغَوغاءُthe rabble حَوليaround me وَأَفحَشواand speak obscenely
لَئِن أَجلَبَ الغَوغاءُ حَولي وَأَفحَشوا
فَكَمthen how often شَتَمواthey reviled موسىMoses وَعيسىand Jesus وَأَحمَداand Ahmad
فَكَم شَتَموا موسى وَعيسى وَأَحمَدا
Even if the rabble clamor around me and speak obscenely,
When the owl is angered by the warbling of the songbird.
Though the rabble may clamor around me with obscenities,
how often have they reviled Moses, Jesus, and Ahmad!
In suppressing the foe and his evil
Did they not revile Moses, Jesus, and Ahmad before me?
وَلاand no عَجَبٌwonder أَنthat يُبغِضَhates الحُرَّthe free man جاهِلٌan ignorant man
وَلا عَجَبٌ أَن يُبغِضَ الحُرَّ جاهِلٌ
مَتىwhen عَشِقَhas loved البومُthe owl الهَزارَthe nightingale المُغَرِّداsinging
مَتى عَشِقَ البومُ الهَزارَ المُغَرِّدا
It is no wonder that an ignorant man hates the free man;
I tread the smooth, paved road,
It is no wonder that the ignorant despise the free spirit;
when did the owl ever love the singing nightingale?
But I pardon, and anger has a rein
For when has the owl ever loved the singing nightingale?
وَإِنِّيَand I فيin كَبتِsubduing العُداةthe enemies وَكَيدِهِمand outwitting them
وَإِنِّيَ في كَبتِ العُداة وَكَيدِهِم
كَمَنlike one who يَسلُكُtravels الدَربَthe road القَصيرَshort المُعَبَّداpaved
كَمَن يَسلُكُ الدَربَ القَصيرَ المُعَبَّدا
And in subduing my enemies and outwitting them, I
With which I train my enemies in clemency and bounty.
And regarding the suppression of foes and their schemes,
am like one who takes a short, paved road.
Oh, how much rancor harbored doubt in itself
I am like one treading a short, well-paved path.
وَلَكِنَّنيbut I أَعفوforgive وَلِلغَيظِthough anger has سَورَةٌa surge
وَلَكِنَّني أَعفو وَلِلغَيظِ سَورَةٌ
أُعَلِّمُI teach أَعدائيmy enemies المُروأَةnobility وَالنَدىand generosity
أُعَلِّمُ أَعدائي المُروأَة وَالنَدى
But I forgive, though anger has its surge,
But when it saw me it saw the sea raging!
Yet I choose to forgive, though rage has its flare,
teaching my enemies nobility and generosity.
So it began to fear me though I was silent
To teach my enemies the meaning of chivalry and grace.
أَلاah رُبَّmany a غِرٍّnaïve man خامَرَpossessed الشَكُّdoubt نَفسَهُhis soul
أَلا رُبَّ غِرٍّ خامَرَ الشَكُّ نَفسَهُ
فَلَمّاthen when رَآنيhe saw me أَبصَرَhe beheld البَحرَthe sea مُزبَداfoaming
فَلَمّا رَآني أَبصَرَ البَحرَ مُزبَدا
Ah, many a naïve man whose soul was seized by doubt,
As it used to fear me when I was chanting,
How many a deluded soul, infected by doubt regarding me,
when he saw me, beheld a foaming sea.
And my name terrifies it if mentioned in its hearing
Beheld the foaming sea when finally he faced me?
فَأَصبَحَso he became يَخشانيfears me وَقَدalthough already بِتُّI remained ساكِتاًsilent
فَأَصبَحَ يَخشاني وَقَد بِتُّ ساكِتاً
كَماas كانَhe used to يَخشانيfear me وَقَدwhile already كُنتُI was مُنشِداreciting verse
كَما كانَ يَخشاني وَقَد كُنتُ مُنشِدا
So he came to fear me, though I remained silent,
As the hyena dreads the strongly redoubled letter.
He came to fear me even while I remained silent,
as he feared me when I was reciting verse.
He who gained the sword bare of blade
Just as he feared me when I raised my voice in verse.
وَيَرهَبُand he dreads إِسميmy name أَنthat يَطيفَmight pass بِسَمعِهِby his hearing
وَيَرهَبُ إِسمي أَن يَطيفَ بِسَمعِهِ
كَماas تَتَّقيavoids الدَرداءَthe toothless woman حَرفاًa consonant مُشَدَّداdoubled
كَما تَتَّقي الدَرداءَ حَرفاً مُشَدَّدا
And he fears that my name might touch his hearing,
Fears to cast his glance at the sheathed sword.
He dreads the very echo of my name in his ears,
as a toothless woman avoids a doubled consonant.
I love the noble free man who bears no malice,
As a toothless crone dreads a hard, stressed consonant.
وَمَنand whoever نالَstruck مِنهُat him السَيفthe sword وَهوَwhile it is مُجَرَّدٌdrawn
وَمَن نالَ مِنهُ السَيف وَهوَ مُجَرَّدٌ
تَهَيَّبَfeared أَنto يَرنوgaze إِلىat السَيفِthe sword مُغمَداsheathed
تَهَيَّبَ أَن يَرنو إِلى السَيفِ مُغمَدا
And whoever was struck by the sword when it was drawn
And disdain the abject vile of spirit however intimate.
For he who has felt the bite of the drawn sword,
fears even to gaze at the sword when sheathed.
And between my ribs is a heart that has not
Trembles to look upon it even when sheathed.
أُحِبُّI love الأَبِيَّthe proud man الحُرَّfree لاno وُدَّaffection عِندَهُin him
أُحِبُّ الأَبِيَّ الحُرَّ لا وُدَّ عِندَهُ
وَأَقلىand I loathe الذَليلَthe abject one النَفسِin soul مَهماhowever much تَوَدَّداhe shows affection
وَأَقلى الذَليلَ النَفسِ مَهما تَوَدَّدا
I love the proud, free man, though he has no affection for me,
Rebelled against the daughters of fate except with rebellion.
I admire the proud, free soul, even if he holds no love,
and loathe the abject soul, however much affection he shows.
And if she I love prolonged her coquetry
And I loathe the servile spirit, no matter how he fawns.
وَبَينَand between ضُلوعيmy ribs قُلَّبٌa restless heart ماnot تَمَرَّدَتrebelled
وَبَينَ ضُلوعي قُلَّبٌ ما تَمَرَّدَت
عَلَيهِagainst it بَناتُthe daughters الدَهرِof time إِلّاexcept that تَمَرَّداit rebelled
عَلَيهِ بَناتُ الدَهرِ إِلّا تَمَرَّدا
And between my ribs is a restless heart: never has rebellion risen
I would forbid her love to go beyond bounds with me.
Within my ribs beats a heart; never have the calamities of Time rebelled against it,
against it from the daughters of time without its rebelling in turn.
Let fate vie with fate with me, for I
Without it rising in greater rebellion against them.
وَلَوand if أَنَّthat مَنthe one whom أَهوىI love أَطالَprolonged دَلالَهُhis coyness
وَلَو أَنَّ مَن أَهوى أَطالَ دَلالَهُ
مَنَعتُI would prevent هَواهُlove for him أَنfrom يَجوزَpassing beyond بِيَwith me المَدىthe bounds
مَنَعتُ هَواهُ أَن يَجوزَ بِيَ المَدى
And if the one I love prolonged his coyness,
Have left sport and lovemaking to those who want them.
And were the one I desire to prolong their coy disdain,
I would not let love for him carry me beyond bounds.
I would forbid my passion to exceed its bounds.
لِتَرمِlet hurl العَواديthe adversities بِيَat me العَواديthe adversities فَإِنَّنيfor I
لِتَرمِ العَوادي بِيَ العَوادي فَإِنَّني
تَرَكتُI have left لِمَنto whoever يَهواهُماloves them both اللَهوamusement وَالدَداand play
تَرَكتُ لِمَن يَهواهُما اللَهو وَالدَدا
Let adversities hurl adversities at me, for I
Let the winds of misfortune cast me where they may, for I—
have left amusement and play to whoever loves them both.
Have left trivial amusements and play to those who desire them.
Partial English translation: 85 of 88 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1