أَشِعَّةٌrays منfrom مُقلَتَيكَyour two eyes مُلهِبَهscorching
أَشِعَّةٌ من مُقلَتَيكَ مُلهِبَه
ياO أَلَميmy pain تَجعَلُmake نَفسيmy soul طَرِبَهjoyful
يا أَلَمي تَجعَلُ نَفسي طَرِبَه
Scorching rays from your two eyes,
Rays from your eyelashes inflame me,
O my pain, they make my soul rejoice.
Oh my pain that makes my soul tremble!
أَشرِقshine عَلىupon قَلبيmy heart بِهيّاًsplendid نيِّراradiant
أَشرِق عَلى قَلبي بِهيّاً نيِّرا
فَيورِقَso it may leaf الشَوكُthe thorns بِهِin it وَيُزهِراand blossom
فَيورِقَ الشَوكُ بِهِ وَيُزهِرا
Shine upon my heart, splendid and radiant,
Dawn upon my heart radiantly and purely,
So that the thorns may leaf and blossom in it.
So that the thorns may bloom and flourish.
ياO هَيكَلاa temple كُهّانُهُits priests القلوبُthe hearts
يا هَيكَلا كُهّانُهُ القلوبُ
بَخورُهُits incense الأَدمُعُthe tears وَالشُحوبُand pallor
بَخورُهُ الأَدمُعُ وَالشُحوبُ
O temple whose priests are hearts,
O temple whose priests are hearts,
Whose incense is tears and pallor,
Its incense tears and pallor.
أَسمَعُI hear أَجراسَكَyour bells منfrom بَعيدafar
أَسمَعُ أَجراسَكَ من بَعيد
فَهيfor they تُنادينيcall me إِلىto السُجودِprostration
فَهي تُناديني إِلى السُجودِ
I hear your bells from afar;
I hear your bells from afar
For they call me to prostrate myself.
Calling me to prostrate.
وَدَقَّand struck نِصفُthe middle اللَيلِof the night فيin السُكونِthe stillness
وَدَقَّ نِصفُ اللَيلِ في السُكونِ
فَاِختَلَجَso trembled الشاعِرُthe poet كَالظُنونِlike doubts
فَاِختَلَجَ الشاعِرُ كَالظُنونِ
And midnight struck in the stillness,
And midnight tolled in the stillness,
And the poet trembled like doubts,
Stirring the poet like suspicions.
وَقالَand said إِنَّindeed تَعَبَthe weariness الضَميرِof conscience
وَقالَ إِنَّ تَعَبَ الضَميرِ
يَصعَدُrises منfrom مَجاهِلِthe unknown depths القُبورِof graves
يَصعَدُ من مَجاهِلِ القُبورِ
And said: “The weariness of conscience
He said, the conscience's fatigue
Rises from the unknown depths of graves.
Rises from the dark graves.
ياO لَيلُnight ياO مَسارِبَchannels الفَواجِعِof calamities
يا لَيلُ يا مَسارِبَ الفَواجِعِ
ياO قِرَبَwaterskins الدِماءِof blood وَالمَدامِعِand tears
يا قِرَبَ الدِماءِ وَالمَدامِعِ
O night, O channels of calamity,
O night, o passages of calamities,
O waterskins of blood and tears!
O breacher of blood and tears.
كَمhow many منof خِلِيٍّa carefree person فيكَin you يَستَريحُrests
كَم من خِلِيٍّ فيكَ يَستَريحُ
وَكَمand how many شَقِيٍّan unhappy person بائِسٍwretched يَنوحُlaments
وَكَم شَقِيٍّ بائِسٍ يَنوحُ
How many a carefree soul rests in you,
How many friends rest in you
And how many a miserable wretch laments!
While how many miserable wretches weep!
أُرقُدsleep قَريرَuntroubled العَينِthe eye ياO خِلِيُّcarefree one
أُرقُد قَريرَ العَينِ يا خِلِيُّ
وَانتَand you فَاِشقَthen suffer أَيُّهاO you الشَقِيُّunhappy one
وَانتَ فَاِشقَ أَيُّها الشَقِيُّ
Sleep with untroubled eyes, O carefree one,
I sleep easy, o friend,
And you, unhappy one, suffer!
While you stay up, o wretched one.
فَاللَيلُfor the night مِلكُthe possession of المُترفِthe pampered one السَعيدِthe happy one
فَاللَيلُ مِلكُ المُترفِ السَعيدِ
وَمِلكُand the possession of كُلذِevery (apparent typo) تَعِسٍwretched شَريداoutcast
وَمِلكُ كُلذِ تَعِسٍ شَريدا
For night belongs to the pampered, happy man,
For night is the kingdom of the happy prosperous
And to every wretched outcast.
And every miserable vagrant's kingdom.
غَلواءُGhalwa ياO نِبراسَbeacon قَلبيmy heart البائِسِwretched
غَلواءُ يا نِبراسَ قَلبي البائِسِ
ياO أَمَلّاhope فيin ظُلُماتِdarkness اليائِسِof the despairing one
يا أَمَلّا في ظُلُماتِ اليائِسِ
Ghalwa, O beacon of my wretched heart,
Glowing one, o torch of my wretched heart,
O hope in the despairing one's darkness,
O hope in the darkness of the desperate.
ياO مَرهَماًa balm لِقَلبِيَfor my heart المَوجوعِaching
يا مَرهَماً لِقَلبِيَ المَوجوعِ
ياO مَلَكاًan angel يَطوفُwanders فيin دُموعيmy tears
يا مَلَكاً يَطوفُ في دُموعي
O balm for my aching heart,
O balm for my aching heart,
O angel who wanders through my tears,
O angel circling in my tears.
أُحبُّI love فيكِin you صورَةًan image عَذراءَvirginal
أُحبُّ فيكِ صورَةً عَذراءَ
وَإِنand even if تَكُنit is أَصباغُهاits colors شَوهاءugly
وَإِن تَكُن أَصباغُها شَوهاء
In you I love a virginal image,
I love in you a maiden's image
Even if its colors are ugly.
Though her colors are distorted.
ياO صورَةًan image تَجريflows بِهاthrough it السَعادَهhappiness
يا صورَةً تَجري بِها السَعادَه
أَلحبُّlove فيهاwithin it دونَهُbeneath it العِبادَهworship
أَلحبُّ فيها دونَهُ العِبادَه
O image through which happiness flows,
O image with which happiness flows,
The love within it surpasses worship.
Do I love her despite her flaws?
ياO أَرَجَfragrance المُروجof the meadows وَالأَكهامِand hillocks
يا أَرَجَ المُروج وَالأَكهامِ
ياO وَتَراًa string أَسمَعَنيlet me hear أَنغاميmy melodies
يا وَتَراً أَسمَعَني أَنغامي
O fragrance of meadows and hillocks,
O most verdant meadows and thickets,
O string that let me hear my melodies,
O string I hear my melodies.
مَجَّدتُI glorified آلامَكِyour pains فيin الزُهورِthe flowers
مَجَّدتُ آلامَكِ في الزُهورِ
فيin وَهَجِthe glow الأَنوارِof the lights فيin الطُيورِthe birds
في وَهَجِ الأَنوارِ في الطُيورِ
I glorified your suffering in the flowers,
I glorified your sorrows in flowers,
In the glow of lights, in the birds,
In the blaze of lights, in birds.
فيin بَسَماتsmiles الصُبحِof morning فيin الأَصائِلthe late afternoons
في بَسَمات الصُبحِ في الأَصائِل
فيin القَمحِthe wheat فيin تَمَوُّجِthe rippling السَنابِلof the ears of grain
في القَمحِ في تَمَوُّجِ السَنابِل
In morning's smiles, in the late afternoons,
In the smiles of dawn, in the steeds,
In wheat, in the rippling ears of grain,
In the wheat, in the waving ears of grain,
فيin أَدمُعِthe tears الأَيِّمِof the widow وَاليَتيمِand the orphan
في أَدمُعِ الأَيِّمِ وَاليَتيمِ
فيin صَرخَةِthe cry البَريءِof the innocent وَالمَظلومِand the oppressed
في صَرخَةِ البَريءِ وَالمَظلومِ
In the tears of the widow and the orphan,
In the tears of the orphan and bereaved,
In the cry of the innocent and the oppressed.
In the scream of the innocent and oppressed.
ياO زَهرَةًa flower تائِبَةًpenitent مقدَّسَهsacred
يا زَهرَةً تائِبَةً مقدَّسَه
ياO خُبرbread (likely intended) قُربانةِof the communion offering نَفسيmy soul التَعِسَهwretched
يا خُبر قُربانةِ نَفسي التَعِسَه
O sacred, penitent flower,
O repentant consecrated flower,
O bread of my wretched soul's communion offering,
O news of the sacrifice of my wretched soul.
أَحمَدُكِI praise you اليَومَtoday كامسِas yesterday وَغَداand tomorrow
أَحمَدُكِ اليَومَ كامسِ وَغَدا
وَكُلّماand whenever غابَvanished النَهارُthe day وَبَداand appeared
وَكُلّما غابَ النَهارُ وَبَدا
I praise you today, as yesterday, and tomorrow,
I praise you today concealed and tomorrow revealed,
And whenever the day vanishes and appears,
And whenever the day fades and night casts its pall,
وَكُلَّماand whenever بَلَّلتُI moistened بِالدُموعِwith tears
وَكُلَّما بَلَّلتُ بِالدُموعِ
شِعراًa poem شَقِيّاًunhappy قُدَّtorn منfrom ضُلوعيmy ribs
شِعراً شَقِيّاً قُدَّ من ضُلوعي
And whenever I moisten with tears
And whenever I wet with tears,
A suffering poem torn from my ribs.”
Wretched poetry plucked from my ribs.
وَقدand had أَحَسَّتshe felt فَترَةًfor a while بِروحِهاof her soul
وَقد أَحَسَّت فَترَةً بِروحِها
تَطَّرِحُcasting off الأَوهامthe illusions منfrom جُروحِهاits wounds
تَطَّرِحُ الأَوهام من جُروحِها
And for a while she had felt her soul
And she felt for a moment with her soul,
Casting illusions out of its wounds,
Casting delusions from her wounds.
وَرَفَعَتand she raised اليهِtoward him عيناًan eye ذائِبَهmelting
وَرَفَعَت اليهِ عيناً ذائِبَه
كَأَنَّهاas though she were صورَةُthe image نَفسٍof a soul تائِبَهpenitent
كَأَنَّها صورَةُ نَفسٍ تائِبَه
And raised to him a melting eye,
And she raised to him a melting eye,
As though she were the image of a penitent soul.
As if it were the image of a repentant soul.
لكِنَّهاbut she عادَتreturned إِلىto جُنونِهاher madness
لكِنَّها عادَت إِلى جُنونِها
وَثارَتand flared النيرانُthe fires فيin عُيونِهاher eyes
وَثارَت النيرانُ في عُيونِها
But she returned to her madness,
But she returned to her madness,
And fires flared in her eyes.
And fires blazed in her eyes.
وَكانَand was قَدalready أَوشَكَwas about أَنto يُقَبِّلاkiss
وَكانَ قَد أَوشَكَ أَن يُقَبِّلا
جَبينَهاher brow المُضطَربَtrembling المُشتَعِلاburning
جَبينَها المُضطَربَ المُشتَعِلا
And he had been about to kiss
And he had almost kissed
Her trembling, burning brow,
Her disturbed flaming forehead,
حينَwhen اِستَحالَتshe turned into جَمرَةًan ember مُلتَهِبَهblazing
حينَ اِستَحالَت جَمرَةً مُلتَهِبَه
تَراجَعَتshe drew back عَنهُfrom him خُطىًsteps مُضطَرِبَهunsteady
تَراجَعَت عَنهُ خُطىً مُضطَرِبَه
When she turned into a blazing ember;
When she turned into a glowing ember,
She drew back from him with unsteady steps.
Retreating from him in disturbed steps.
وَبعدand after فِكرٍthought قالَتِshe said الحَياةُlife
وَبعد فِكرٍ قالَتِ الحَياةُ
عَقارِبٌscorpions منfrom جَسَديmy body تَقتاتُfeed
عَقارِبٌ من جَسَدي تَقتاتُ
And after some thought she said: “Life
And after pondering, life said:
Is scorpions feeding on my body.
Leeches from my body are feeding.
دَعنيleave me فَلاfor not أَبرَحُI cease ياO حَبيبيmy beloved
دَعني فَلا أَبرَحُ يا حَبيبي
أَعيشُI live فيin ماضِيَّmy past فيin ذَنوبيmy sins
أَعيشُ في ماضِيَّ في ذَنوبي
Leave me, for I keep on, my beloved,
Leave me and spare your chaste soul,
Living in my past, in my sins,
A virgin that gloaming does not defile.
فيin حَمأَةِthe mire الضَميرِof conscience فيin اوجاعيmy aches
في حَمأَةِ الضَميرِ في اوجاعي
فيin بُؤرَةِthe pit الديدانِof worms وَالأَفاعيand vipers
في بُؤرَةِ الديدانِ وَالأَفاعي
In the mire of conscience, in my aches,
And take back the kisses from my cheeks,
In the pit of worms and vipers.
Forgiveness is heavy upon me.
أَيَستَطيعُcan it? الطيبُthe perfume فيin القارورَهthe bottle
أَيَستَطيعُ الطيبُ في القارورَه
أَنto يَغسِلَwash away الأَوساخَthe dirt فيin القاذورَهthe refuse heap
أَن يَغسِلَ الأَوساخَ في القاذورَه
Can the perfume in the bottle
So he said, a tear that purifies
Wash away the dirt in the refuse heap?
Can cleanse a soul no matter how filthy.
دَعنيleave me وَخلِّand keep نَفسَكَyour soul العَذراءَvirginal
دَعني وَخلِّ نَفسَكَ العَذراءَ
عَذراءَvirginal لاnot تَرجِسُbecomes defiled فيin غَلواءَGhalwa
عَذراءَ لا تَرجِسُ في غَلواءَ
Leave me, and keep your virgin soul
The tears of repentance and forgiveness
A virgin, undefiled within Ghalwa.
Are holier, o gloaming, than a sacrifice.
وَاِستَرجِعِand take back القُبلاتِthe kisses منfrom خَدَّيّاmy two cheeks
وَاِستَرجِعِ القُبلاتِ من خَدَّيّا
مَغفِرَةٌforgiveness ثَقيلَةٌheavy عَليّاupon me
مَغفِرَةٌ ثَقيلَةٌ عَليّا
And take back the kisses from my cheeks—
For they are the dough of kneaded pain
Forgiveness weighs heavily upon me.”
And the heart's flakes in the eyes.
فَقالَthen he said إِنَّindeed دَمعَةًa tear تَطَهَّرَتbecame pure
فَقالَ إِنَّ دَمعَةً تَطَهَّرَت
تَكفيsuffices لِغَسلِto cleanse النَفسthe soul مَهماhowever قَذِرَتit became filthy
تَكفي لِغَسلِ النَفس مَهما قَذِرَت
Then he said: “A tear made pure
The souls' beads in torment
Suffices to cleanse the soul, however filthy it has become.
Strung on a thread of eyelashes.
فَأَدمُعُfor the tears التَوبَةِof repentance وَالغُفرانِand forgiveness
فَأَدمُعُ التَوبَةِ وَالغُفرانِ
أَقدَسُholier ياO غَلواءَGhalwa منthan القُربانِthe offering
أَقدَسُ يا غَلواءَ من القُربانِ
For tears of repentance and forgiveness
They are juice of pure frankincense
Are holier, O Ghalwa, than the sacrificial offering.
Sorrow congeals in rocks.
فهيfor they خَميرُthe leaven الأَلَمِof pain المَعجونِkneaded
فهي خَميرُ الأَلَمِ المَعجونِ
وَفَلذَةُand a fragment القُلوبِof hearts فيin العُيونthe eyes
وَفَلذَةُ القُلوبِ في العُيون
They are the leaven of kneaded pain,
And pearls in the depth of a sinful sea
And a fragment of hearts within the eyes,
The wave casts onto the coast.
وَسُبحَةُand the rosary النُفوسِof souls فيin العَذابِtorment
وَسُبحَةُ النُفوسِ في العَذابِ
تُجمَعُare gathered فيon سِلكٍa thread منof الأَهدابِeyelashes
تُجمَعُ في سِلكٍ من الأَهدابِ
And the rosary of souls in torment,
Moments passed, all of them dreams,
Strung on a thread of eyelashes.
Uninterrupted by any words.
وَهيand they عَصيرٌan extract منfrom لُبانٍfrankincense طاهِرpure
وَهي عَصيرٌ من لُبانٍ طاهِر
تَعقُدُهُcongeal it الآلامُthe pains فيin المَحاجِرthe eye sockets
تَعقُدُهُ الآلامُ في المَحاجِر
And they are the sap of pure frankincense,
The two listened
Which suffering congeals within the eye sockets,
To the conflict of painful drunkenness.
وَلُؤلوءٌand a pearl فيin قَعرِthe bottom بَحرٍof a sea خاطيsinful
وَلُؤلوءٌ في قَعرِ بَحرٍ خاطي
يَقذِفُهُcasts it الموجُthe waves إِلىonto الشَواطىءthe shores
يَقذِفُهُ الموجُ إِلى الشَواطىء
And a pearl at the bottom of a sinful sea,
Suddenly he said, o gloaming,
Which the waves cast onto the shores.”
This agony, blessed is agony.
مَرَّتpassed ثَوانٍseconds كُلُّهاall of them أَحلامُdreams
مَرَّت ثَوانٍ كُلُّها أَحلامُ
لَمnot يَتَخَلَّلpenetrated سُكرَهاtheir intoxication كَلامُspeech
لَم يَتَخَلَّل سُكرَها كَلامُ
Seconds passed, all of them dreams;
This agony, o glow, o my beloved,
No words penetrated their intoxication.
O sister, o bride, o my companion.
كانwere بِهاduring them الاِثنانِthe two يُصغِيانِlistening
كان بِها الاِثنانِ يُصغِيانِ
إِلأىto نَزاعthe struggle الأَلَمِof pain السَكرانِdrunken
إِلأى نَزاع الأَلَمِ السَكرانِ
During them, the two were listening
This agony in the cleansing crucible
To the struggle of drunken pain,
Is the final limit to the conscience's agony.
إِذاsuddenly بِهِthere he was يَقولُsays ياO غَلواءُGhalwa
إِذا بِهِ يَقولُ يا غَلواءُ
هذاthis الشَقاsuffering تَبارَكَblessed be الشَقاءsuffering
هذا الشَقا تَبارَكَ الشَقاء
When suddenly he said: “O Ghalwa,
Gloaming, paradise of life is here,
This suffering—blessed be suffering!
For you did not commit adultery, but fancy did.
هذاthis الشَقاsuffering ياO غَلوَGhalwa (shortened form) ياO حَبيبَتيmy beloved
هذا الشَقا يا غَلوَ يا حَبيبَتي
ياO أُختِmy sister ياO عَروسسbride ياO رَفيقَتيmy companion
يا أُختِ يا عَروسس يا رَفيقَتي
This suffering, O Ghalwa, O my beloved,
Keep the sanctity of agony's memory,
O my sister, O bride, O my companion,
It is a path to chastity and piety.
هذاthis الشَقاsuffering فيin مَطهَرِthe purgatory التَكفيرِof atonement
هذا الشَقا في مَطهَرِ التَكفيرِ
آخِرُthe last حدٍّlimit لِشَقاof suffering الضَميرof conscience
آخِرُ حدٍّ لِشَقا الضَمير
This suffering, in the purgatory of atonement,
For agony is a ladder to heaven,
Is the final limit of conscience's suffering.
So Eden is the inheritance of those who suffered.
غَلواءُGhalwa فِردوسُthe paradise الحَياةِof life ههناhere
غَلواءُ فِردوسُ الحَياةِ ههنا
فَأَنتِfor you لمnot تَزنيcommit adultery بلrather الوَهمُthe illusion زِنىcommitted adultery (contextual reading)
فَأَنتِ لم تَزني بل الوَهمُ زِنى
Ghalwa, life's paradise is here:
And the price of alluring happiness
For you did not commit adultery; it was illusion that did.
Does not equal the price of gloom.
إِحتَفِظيhold fast بِقُدسِto the sanctity تَذكارِof the memory الشَقاof suffering
إِحتَفِظي بِقُدسِ تَذكارِ الشَقا
فَهوfor it طَريقٌa path لِلعَفافِto chastity وَالتُقىand piety
فَهو طَريقٌ لِلعَفافِ وَالتُقى
Preserve the sanctity of suffering's memory,
And gloaming was cured of her delusions
For it is a path to chastity and piety.
But not of her pain.
إِنَّindeed الشَقاءsuffering سُلَّمٌa ladder إِلىto السَماheaven
إِنَّ الشَقاء سُلَّمٌ إِلى السَما
فَعَدنُfor Eden ميراثٌan inheritance لِمَنfor whoever تَأَلَّماhas suffered
فَعَدنُ ميراثٌ لِمَن تَأَلَّما
Suffering is a ladder to heaven,
For Eden is the inheritance of whoever has suffered.
وَثَمَنُand the price السَعادَةِof happiness الخَلّابَهalluring
وَثَمَنُ السَعادَةِ الخَلّابَه
لَيسَdoes not يُوازيequal ثَمَنَthe price الكَآبَهof melancholy
لَيسَ يُوازي ثَمَنَ الكَآبَه
And the price of alluring happiness
Does not equal the price of melancholy.”
وَشُفيتand was healed غَلواءُGhalwa منof أَوهامِهاher illusions
وَشُفيت غَلواءُ من أَوهامِها
لكِنَّهاbut she لَمnot تُشفَwas healed منof آلامِهاher pains
لكِنَّها لَم تُشفَ من آلامِها
And Ghalwa was healed of her illusions,
But she was not healed of her pain.
Partial English translation: 90 of 96 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1