ياO حارِHarith (shortened vocative) لاdo not تَجهَلact insolently عَلىtoward أَشياخِناour elders
يا حارِ لا تَجهَل عَلى أَشياخِنا
إِنّاindeed we ذَووpossessors of السوراتِfierce might وَالأَحلامِand sound judgment
إِنّا ذَوو السوراتِ وَالأَحلامِ
O Harith, do not behave insolently toward our chiefs.
O Harith, do not be insolent toward our elders.
For we are men of fierce onslaughts and sound judgment.
We are men of fierce might and sound judgment.
مِنّاfrom among us إِذاwhen بَلَغَreaches الصَبِيُّthe boy فِطامَهُhis weaning
مِنّا إِذا بَلَغَ الصَبِيُّ فِطامَهُ
سائِسُa manager of الأُمورِaffairs وَحارِبُand a plunderer of الأَقوامِthe tribes
سائِسُ الأُمورِ وَحارِبُ الأَقوامِ
Among us, as soon as a boy reaches weaning age,
Among us, when a boy reaches his weaning,
he is a master of affairs, a warrior against nations.
He is a master of affairs and a plunderer of tribes.
قَتَلواthey killed كُلَيباًKulayb ثُمَّthen قالواthey said أَربِعواrestrain yourselves
قَتَلوا كُلَيباً ثُمَّ قالوا أَربِعوا
كَذَبواthey lied وَرَبِّby the Lord of الحَلِّthe unconsecrated state وَالإِحرامِand ritual consecration
كَذَبوا وَرَبِّ الحَلِّ وَالإِحرامِ
They killed Kulayb, then said, “Hold back!”
They killed Kulayb, then said, "Hold back!"
They lied—by the Lord of the profane and the sacred.
They lied, by the Lord of the profane and the sacred!
حَتّىuntil نَبيدَwe annihilate قَبيلَةًa tribe وَقَبيلَةًand a tribe
حَتّى نَبيدَ قَبيلَةً وَقَبيلَةً
قَهراًby force وَنَفلِقَand we cleave بِالسُيوفِwith swords الهامِthe skulls
قَهراً وَنَفلِقَ بِالسُيوفِ الهامِ
until we annihilate tribe after tribe,
Until we annihilate tribe after tribe,
by force, and cleave heads with swords,
By force, and cleave skulls with swords,
وَيَقُمنَand they rise رَبّاتُthe ladies of الخُدورِthe secluded chambers حَواسِراًbareheaded
وَيَقُمنَ رَبّاتُ الخُدورِ حَواسِراً
يَمسَحنَthey stroke عَرضَthe breadth of ذَوائِبِthe tresses of الأَيتامِthe orphans
يَمسَحنَ عَرضَ ذَوائِبِ الأَيتامِ
and the ladies of curtained chambers rise bareheaded,
And the ladies of secluded chambers rise bareheaded,
running their hands across the orphans’ locks.
Stroking across the orphans' tresses.
Sol 6.1