ضَيَّعتُI squandered فيin هِضَبِthe hills of الهَوىpassion رُشديmy sound judgment
ضَيَّعتُ في هِضَبِ الهَوى رُشدي
وَفَقَدتُand I lost ماwhat أَبقىhad left الحجىreason عِنديwith me
وَفَقَدتُ ما أَبقى الحجى عِندي
I squandered my judgment in the hills of passion,
I lost my sanity in love's plateau
And lost what reason had left me.
And lost what reason had sustained in me
وَسَعَيتُand I strove نَحوَtoward المَجدِglory مُجتَهِداًdiligently
وَسَعَيتُ نَحوَ المَجدِ مُجتَهِداً
فَهَويتُso I fell دونshort of مدارِكthe heights of المَجدِglory
فَهَويتُ دون مدارِك المَجدِ
And strove diligently toward glory,
And strove for glory with great diligence
Yet fell short of glory's heights.
Yet tumbled short of reaching glory's keep
أَجدُI find الشَبابَyouth يَلوحُappears مُنتَعِشاًfull of vigor
أَجدُ الشَبابَ يَلوحُ مُنتَعِشاً
وَأَناwhile I نَحيلٌgaunt أَصفَرُsallow الخَدِّthe cheek
وَأَنا نَحيلٌ أَصفَرُ الخَدِّ
I see youth appear full of vigor,
I see youth gleaming, rejuvenated
While I am gaunt and sallow-cheeked.
While I am frail and sallow-cheeked
فيin كُلِّevery لَيلٍnight جارwas oppressive أَسودهُits darkness
في كُلِّ لَيلٍ جار أَسودهُ
يَبنيbuilds الرَدىdeath حَجَرَينِtwo stones منof لحديmy grave
يَبني الرَدى حَجَرَينِ من لحدي
In every night whose darkness oppresses,
Each night my dark-cloaked neighbor
Death adds two stones to my grave.
Adds two stones toward my tomb from quarry's heap
بَعُدَhas grown distant الكَرىsleep عَنfrom مُقلَتَيَّmy two eyes كَماjust as
بَعُدَ الكَرى عَن مُقلَتَيَّ كَما
بَعُدَis far الفَتىthe youth الصاديthirsty عَنfrom الوِردِthe watering place
بَعُدَ الفَتى الصادي عَن الوِردِ
Sleep has withdrawn from my eyes, just as
As distant are the stars from my poor eyes
The thirsty youth is far from the watering place.
As distant as the horseman from the rose
فَكَأَنَّso, as though أَهدابيmy eyelashes ظَبيًsword blades بَرَزَتhave emerged
فَكَأَنَّ أَهدابي ظَبيً بَرَزَت
لِتحولَto stand as a barrier دونَbefore النَومِsleep بِالسَهدِwith sleeplessness
لِتحولَ دونَ النَومِ بِالسَهدِ
So my lashes seem like sword blades thrust forth,
My lids like a gazelle have come to be
To bar sleep with sleeplessness.
To bar the way 'gainst sleep with their repose
لَوif كنتَyou were تَعلَمُyou know ياO أَبيmy father وَأَناwhile I
لَو كنتَ تَعلَمُ يا أَبي وَأَنا
طِفلٌa child مَصيريmy fate العادمَdevoid of السَعدِhappiness
طِفلٌ مَصيري العادمَ السَعدِ
Had you known, Father, while I was
If you had known, my father, when I was
A child, my fate bereft of happiness,
A babe, my fate would be devoid of bliss
لَبَكيتَyou would have wept عِندَat وِلادَتيmy birth نَدَماًin regret
لَبَكيتَ عِندَ وِلادَتي نَدَماً
وَخنَقتَنيand you strangled me وَأَناwhile I عَلىon مَهديmy cradle
وَخنَقتَني وَأَنا عَلى مَهدي
You would have wept in regret at my birth,
You would have wept when I was born in woe
And strangled me as I lay in my cradle.
And choked me while I lay in cradle's midst
يَتَهامَسونَthey whisper to one another عَلَيَّabout me منout of أَسَفٍsorrow
يَتَهامَسونَ عَلَيَّ من أَسَفٍ
هوhe سَيفa sword عَقلٍintellect مُرهَفُsharpened الحَدِّthe edge
هو سَيف عَقلٍ مُرهَفُ الحَدِّ
They whisper about me out of sorrow:
They whisper of me in despair
“He is a keen-edged sword of intellect.”
"He is a sword of keen and piercing wit"
إِنif كنتI am سَيفاًa sword لِلحجىof reason فَأَناthen I
إِن كنت سَيفاً لِلحجى فَأَنا
لَمhas not يَمتَشِقنيdrawn me الدَهرُTime منfrom غَمديmy sheath
لَم يَمتَشِقني الدَهرُ من غَمدي
If I am a sword of reason, then I
If I'm a sword of reason, then I am
Have never been drawn by Time from my sheath.
A blade not yet unsheathed from out its slit
أَرَدتَنيَstruck me down الأَيّامُthe days طاعِنَةًstabbing
أَرَدتَنيَ الأَيّامُ طاعِنَةً
صَدريmy breast بِأَسيافٍwith swords لَهاof theirs تُرديbring death
صَدري بِأَسيافٍ لَها تُردي
The days struck me down, stabbing
The days desired to stab me
My breast with their death-dealing swords.
My chest with swords that have no clue to quit
وَأَناwhile I فَتىًa youth ماnot زِلتُI have ceased أَجمَعُI gather منfrom
وَأَنا فَتىً ما زِلتُ أَجمَعُ من
رَوضِthe garden of الصَبابَةِlonging وَالهَوىand passion عَقديmy necklace
رَوضِ الصَبابَةِ وَالهَوى عَقدي
While I, a youth, am still gathering from
While I, a lad, still gather in a knot
The garden of longing and passion my necklace.
From meadows of my youth the rose's wit
عاثَتravaged صُروفvicissitudes of الدَهرِTime فيin جَسَديmy body
عاثَت صُروف الدَهرِ في جَسَدي
بِمَخالِبٍwith claws كَمَخالِبِlike the claws of الأُسدِlions
بِمَخالِبٍ كَمَخالِبِ الأُسدِ
Time's vicissitudes have ravaged my body
The turns of fate clawed savagely my frame
With claws like the claws of lions.
With talons like the talons of the beast
وَيلاهُalas for me! أَشباحspecters of الرَدىdeath قَربتhave drawn near
وَيلاهُ أَشباح الرَدى قَربت
ماذاwhat سعادSuad تَصيرwill become منfrom بَعديafter me
ماذا سعاد تَصير من بَعدي
Alas! The specters of death have drawn near.
Alas, specters of doom have come so close
What will become of Suad after me?
What will Saada's fate be after my decease?
أُمّاهُO my mother أَينَwhere أَبيmy father فَإِنَّfor indeed لَهُfor him
أُمّاهُ أَينَ أَبي فَإِنَّ لَهُ
عِنديI have شُؤوناًmatters ضَيَّعَتhave ruined رُشديmy sound judgment
عِندي شُؤوناً ضَيَّعَت رُشدي
Mother, where is my father? For with him
Mother! Where is my father, for with him
I have matters that have robbed me of my judgment.
Are matters lost that stole away my wit
أَأَبيO my father رَعاكmay He protect you اللَهُGod كيفَhow تَرىdo you think
أَأَبي رَعاك اللَهُ كيفَ تَرى
خَلَّفتَنيyou left me behind وَتَرَكتَنيand you left me وَحديalone
خَلَّفتَني وَتَرَكتَني وَحدي
O Father, may God protect you—how, tell me,
My father, may God grant you peace, how can it be
Did you leave me behind and abandon me alone?
You left me and abandoned me, fending alone?
هَلwhether كُنتَyou were مِثليlike me يائِساًdespairing تَعِباًweary
هَل كُنتَ مِثلي يائِساً تَعِباً
فَعَثيتَand so you wreaked havoc فيin الدُنياthe world عَلىupon جَدّيmy fortune
فَعَثيتَ في الدُنيا عَلى جَدّي
Were you, like me, despairing and weary,
Were you like me, despairing and fatigued,
And did you thus wreak havoc in this world upon my fortune?
So you roamed the world pursuing your own deed?
لاno بَأسَharm نَمsleep وَالروحُand the soul طاهِرَةٌpure
لا بَأسَ نَم وَالروحُ طاهِرَةٌ
فاليكَso, to you وَجديmy grief لَمhas not يَزَلceased وَجديmy grief
فاليكَ وَجدي لَم يَزَل وَجدي
No matter; sleep, with your soul pure.
No matter, sleep, and let the soul be pure
So my grief is for you; my grief has not ceased.
For to you my passion has always cleaved.
Sol 6.1