أَطْلِقْrelease لِمَدمعِكَto your tears العِنَانَthe reins وَخَلِّهِand let it
أَطْلِقْ لِمَدمعِكَ العِنَانَ وَخَلِّهِ
يَهْميpours down إِلَىuntil أَنْthat يَنْتَهِيceases بِنَفَادِthrough depletion
يَهْمي إِلَى أَنْ يَنْتَهِي بِنَفَادِ
Give your tears free rein, and let them
Let your tears flow freely,
Pour down until they run dry.
Rushing until they run dry.
وَدَعِand let الضُّلُوعَthe ribs تُذِيبهَاmelt them نِيرَانُهَاtheir fires
وَدَعِ الضُّلُوعَ تُذِيبهَا نِيرَانُهَا
حَتَّىuntil تُجَلِّلَهَاcloak them بِثَوْبِin a robe of رَمَادِash
حَتَّى تُجَلِّلَهَا بِثَوْبِ رَمَادِ
And let the fires within your ribs melt them,
Let your ribs melt them down,
Until they cloak them in a robe of ash.
Cloaking all in ash's gown.
أَصْبَحْتَyou are now فِيin بَحْرٍa sea كَقَلْبِكَlike your heart هَائِجٍraging
أَصْبَحْتَ فِي بَحْرٍ كَقَلْبِكَ هَائِجٍ
مُتَوَاصِلِunceasing in الإِرْغَاءِfrothing وَالإِزْبَادِand foaming
مُتَوَاصِلِ الإِرْغَاءِ وَالإِزْبَادِ
You are now on a sea, raging like your heart,
You're in a sea, raging as your heart,
Ceaselessly frothing and foaming,
With endless storms and swells that start,
مُتَلَاطِمِclashing الأَمْوَاجِthe waves تَهْدُرُroar فِيهِwithin it مِنْof
مُتَلَاطِمِ الأَمْوَاجِ تَهْدُرُ فِيهِ مِنْ
هَوجِthe fury of الرِّيَاحِthe winds رَوَائِحٌevening gusts وَغَوَادِيand morning gusts
هَوجِ الرِّيَاحِ رَوَائِحٌ وَغَوَادِي
Its waves clash; within it roar
Winds howling, blows growing hard,
Evening and morning gusts of furious winds.
Bearing scents from afar, wayward.
وَنَأَتْand grew distant دِيَارُthe homes of الأَهْلِthe people عَنْكَfrom you فَلَمْso did not يَعُدْremain
وَنَأَتْ دِيَارُ الأَهْلِ عَنْكَ فَلَمْ يَعُدْ
لَكَfor you مأملٌhope بِرُجُوعِfor the return of عَهْدِthe days of الوَادِيthe valley
لَكَ مأملٌ بِرُجُوعِ عَهْدِ الوَادِي
And your people's homes have grown distant from you; no longer
While home grew distant, no hope stayed
Have you hope of the valley's days returning:
Of returning to past idylls made,
أَيَّامَthe days when كُنْتَyou were بِهِin it وَعَيْشُكَand your life زَاهِرٌflourishing
أَيَّامَ كُنْتَ بِهِ وَعَيْشُكَ زَاهِرٌ
وَهَوَاكَand your love بَسَّامٌsmiling وَفِكْرُكَand your mind هَادِيtranquil
وَهَوَاكَ بَسَّامٌ وَفِكْرُكَ هَادِي
The days when you were there, your life flourishing,
When life was joyful, thoughts were placid,
And your love smiling, and your mind at peace.
And you hunted pleasures, vision vivid.
تَتَصَيَّدُyou hunt اللَّذَّاتِpleasures بَيْنَamong رِيَاضِهِits gardens
تَتَصَيَّدُ اللَّذَّاتِ بَيْنَ رِيَاضِهِ
وَعَلَىand upon جُفُونِكَyour eyelids نَشْوَةُthe rapture of الصَّيَّادِthe hunter
وَعَلَى جُفُونِكَ نَشْوَةُ الصَّيَّادِ
You hunted pleasures among its gardens,
All dreams seemed near, and chances fleet
And on your eyelids lay the hunter's rapture.
To seize them soon, no hour concrete.
وَتَرَىand you see المُنَىwishes تَرْنُوgaze إِلَيْكَat you وَكُلُّهَاand all of them
وَتَرَى المُنَى تَرْنُو إِلَيْكَ وَكُلُّهَا
فُرَصٌopportunities تَفُوزُyou win بِهَاwith them بِلَاwithout ميعَادِan appointed time
فُرَصٌ تَفُوزُ بِهَا بِلَا ميعَادِ
And you saw your wishes gazing at you, all of them
Beauty inspired your words exquisite,
Opportunities you seized without an appointed hour.
And racing heart invention lit.
وَالحُسْنُand beauty يُلْهِمُكَinspires you البَيَانَeloquence فَتَنْثَنِيso you turn back
وَالحُسْنُ يُلْهِمُكَ البَيَانَ فَتَنْثَنِي
وَنُهَاكَand your intellect مُبْتَدِعٌinventive وَقَلْبُكَand your heart شَادِيsinging
وَنُهَاكَ مُبْتَدِعٌ وَقَلْبُكَ شَادِي
And beauty inspired your eloquence, so you turned back,
Sometimes you sang withhill birds sweet,
Your mind inventive, and your heart singing.
Other times moaned, melancholic beat.
حِينًاat times تُغَنِّيyou sing مَعْwith بَلَابِلِthe nightingales of دَوْحِهِits spreading trees
حِينًا تُغَنِّي مَعْ بَلَابِلِ دَوْحِهِ
وَتَئِنُّand you moan حِينًاat times أَنَّةَthe moan of الأَعْوَادِthe lutes
وَتَئِنُّ حِينًا أَنَّةَ الأَعْوَادِ
At times you sang with the nightingales in its spreading trees,
Alas remembrance of days bygone,
And at times you moaned the lament of lutes.
Though past, their return hoped upon.
أَوَّاهُalas مِنْbecause of ذِكْرَىthe memory of القَدِيمِthe past وَحَبَّذَاand how welcome
أَوَّاهُ مِنْ ذِكْرَى القَدِيمِ وَحَبَّذَا
عَوْدُthe return of القَدِيمِthe past وَإِنْand even if عَدَتْهُassailed it عَوَادِيcalamities
عَوْدُ القَدِيمِ وَإِنْ عَدَتْهُ عَوَادِي
Ah, the memory of the past! How welcome would be
Nostalgia of love, however possessed,
The past's return, even if calamities assailed it!
And loving despite all tests.
أَشْتَاقُهُI yearn for it شَوْقَthe longing of المُحِبِّthe lover إِلَىfor الهَوَىlove
أَشْتَاقُهُ شَوْقَ المُحِبِّ إِلَى الهَوَى
مَهْمَاwhatever يَكُنْthere may be فِيهِin it مِنِof اسْتِبْدَادِtyranny
مَهْمَا يَكُنْ فِيهِ مِنِ اسْتِبْدَادِ
I yearn for it as a lover yearns for love,
No matter what my country does,
Whatever tyranny there may be in it.
My people are mine, my native abode.
وَأُحِبُّهُand I love it بِالرغْمِin spite عَمَّاof what نَالَنِيbefell me
وَأُحِبُّهُ بِالرغْمِ عَمَّا نَالَنِي
مِنْهُfrom it وَأُمحِضُهُand offer it sincerely صَحِيحَgenuine وِدَادِيmy affection
مِنْهُ وَأُمحِضُهُ صَحِيحَ وِدَادِي
And I love it in spite of what I have suffered
I mourn their misery, their fate deride,
From it, and give it my unalloyed affection.
With mouth lamenting, with pen I chide.
مَهْمَاhowever much يَجُرْmay act unjustly وَطَنِيmy homeland عَلَيَّagainst me وَأَهْلُهُand its people
مَهْمَا يَجُرْ وَطَنِي عَلَيَّ وَأَهْلُهُ
فَالأَهْلُfor the people أَهْلِيmy people، وَالبِلَادُand the land بِلَادِيmy land
فَالأَهْلُ أَهْلِي، وَالبِلَادُ بِلَادِي
However much my homeland and its people wrong me,
My tongue won't cease speaking of them,
For its people are my people, and the land is my land.
Until my soul's groan makes it hem.
أَرْثيI feel pity لِبُؤْسِهِمُfor their misery فَأَنْدُبُso I lament حَالَهُمْtheir plight
أَرْثي لِبُؤْسِهِمُ فَأَنْدُبُ حَالَهُمْ
بِفَمِيwith my mouth، وَأَرثِيand I mourn حظَّهُمْtheir lot بِمِدَادِيwith my ink
بِفَمِي، وَأَرثِي حظَّهُمْ بِمِدَادِي
I pity their misery, and so lament their plight
I'm in shock when white passes unmourned,
With my mouth, and mourn their lot with my ink.
Without the garb of grief worn.
هَذَاthis لِسَانِيmy tongue لَاnot يَجِيءُcomes بِذِكْرِهِمْwith mention of them
هَذَا لِسَانِي لَا يَجِيءُ بِذِكْرِهِمْ
حَتَّىuntil يُلَعْثِمَهُmakes it stammer أَنِينُthe moaning of فُؤَادِيmy heart
حَتَّى يُلَعْثِمَهُ أَنِينُ فُؤَادِي
This tongue of mine cannot mention them
By God, my soul, thoughts, and all fight
Without my heart's moaning making it stammer.
I gave to stand by them upright.
وَيَرَاعَتِيand my reed pen مَاnot أَنْthat تَمُرَّpasses بِأَبْيَضٍover a white page
وَيَرَاعَتِي مَا أَنْ تَمُرَّ بِأَبْيَضٍ
إِلَّاexcept وَتُلْبِسُهُand it clothes it ثِيَابَgarments of حِدَادِmourning
إِلَّا وَتُلْبِسُهُ ثِيَابَ حِدَادِ
And my reed pen no sooner crosses a white page
In critiquing, my only aim is to lead
Than it clothes it in garments of mourning.
Their steps into the righteous creed.
تَاللهِby God إِنِّيindeed I قَدcertainly وَقَفْتُI devoted عَلَيْهِمُto them
تَاللهِ إِنِّي قَد وَقَفْتُ عَلَيْهِمُ
رُوحِيmy soul وَأَفْكَارِيand my thoughts وَكُلَّand all جِهَادِيmy striving
رُوحِي وَأَفْكَارِي وَكُلَّ جِهَادِي
By God, I have devoted to them
Lost in darkness, no guide lit the way
My soul, my thoughts, and all my striving.
To walk the straight path, go astray they may.
وَإِذَاand if انْتَقَدْتُهُمُI criticize them فَمَاthen no لِيَfor me غَايَةٌaim
وَإِذَا انْتَقَدْتُهُمُ فَمَا لِيَ غَايَةٌ
إِلَّاexcept قِيَادَتُهُمْleading them لِنَهْجِto a path of سَدَادِrectitude
إِلَّا قِيَادَتُهُمْ لِنَهْجِ سَدَادِ
And if I criticize them, I have no aim
Finding slavery sweet, they became
But to lead them along a path of rectitude.
Boasting of shackles, their heads hang in shame.
خَبَطُواthey blundered بِظُلْمَاتِin the darkness of الضَّلَالِerror وَلَمْand did not يَقُمْarise
خَبَطُوا بِظُلْمَاتِ الضَّلَالِ وَلَمْ يَقُمْ
فِيهِمْamong them إِلَىto السُّبْلِthe paths القَوِيمَةِupright هَادِيa guide
فِيهِمْ إِلَى السُّبْلِ القَوِيمَةِ هَادِي
They blundered through the darkness of error; none arose
After an uproar, Lebanon's lion is felled,
Among them to guide them to the upright paths.
Among wolves, no allies upheld.
وَاسْتَعْذَبُواand they found sweet ذُلَّthe humiliation of القُيُودِthe chains فَأَصْبَحُواso they began
وَاسْتَعْذَبُوا ذُلَّ القُيُودِ فَأَصْبَحُوا
يَتَفَاخَرُونَthey boast بِنِيرِof the yoke of الاسْتِعْبَادِenslavement
يَتَفَاخَرُونَ بِنِيرِ الاسْتِعْبَادِ
And they found the humiliation of chains sweet, so they began
They wasted the forefathers' heritage grand,
To boast of slavery's yoke.
So ancestors' wrath was close at hand.
وَغَدَاand became بِهِthrough it لُبْنَانُLebanon بَعْدَafter عَجِيجِهِits roaring
وَغَدَا بِهِ لُبْنَانُ بَعْدَ عَجِيجِهِ
بِالأُسْدِwith lions مَأْسَدَةًa lions' den بِلَاwithout آسَادِlions
بِالأُسْدِ مَأْسَدَةً بِلَا آسَادِ
And through it Lebanon became—after its roaring
By my people I swear, I won't budge
With lions—a lions' den without lions.
From pleasing them, my pillar and judge.
هُمْthey ضَيَّعُواsquandered إِرْثَthe legacy of الجُدُودِthe forefathers فَنَالَهُمْso befell them
هُمْ ضَيَّعُوا إِرْثَ الجُدُودِ فَنَالَهُمْ
غَضَبُthe wrath of الجُدُودِthe forefathers وَلَعْنَةُand the curse of الأَحْفَادِthe descendants
غَضَبُ الجُدُودِ وَلَعْنَةُ الأَحْفَادِ
They squandered their forefathers' legacy, and so incurred
But I refuse to live in my homeland a slave,
Their forefathers' wrath and their descendants' curse.
When I was among nobles, high and brave.
قَسَمًاI swear بِأَهْلِيby my people لَمْdid not أُفَارِقْI part from عَنْout of رِضًىwillingness
قَسَمًا بِأَهْلِي لَمْ أُفَارِقْ عَنْ رِضًى
أَهْلِيmy people وَهُمْand they ذُخْرِيmy treasure وَكُلُّand all عِمَادِيmy support
أَهْلِي وَهُمْ ذُخْرِي وَكُلُّ عِمَادِي
I swear by my people: I did not willingly leave
After them, my fervor will never expire,
My people, who are my treasure and all my support.
Nor will rest come, or tastes I acquire.
لَكِنْbut أَنِفْتُI disdained بِأَنْto أَعِيشَI live بِمَوْطِنِيin my homeland
لَكِنْ أَنِفْتُ بِأَنْ أَعِيشَ بِمَوْطِنِي
عَبْدًاas a slave وَكُنْتُand I was بِهِin it مِنَamong الأَسْيَادِthe masters
عَبْدًا وَكُنْتُ بِهِ مِنَ الأَسْيَادِ
But I disdained to live in my homeland
The sea rages below, flames scorch my chest,
As a slave, when there I had been among the masters.
Water surrounds me, my heart knows no rest.
أَنَاI بَعْدَهُمْafter parting from them لَاnot يَنْتَهِيends شَوْقِيmy longing وَلَاnor
أَنَا بَعْدَهُمْ لَا يَنْتَهِي شَوْقِي وَلَا
يَدْنُوdraws near صفَايَmy peace وَلَاnor يَطِيبُgrows sweet رُقَادِيmy slumber
يَدْنُو صفَايَ وَلَا يَطِيبُ رُقَادِي
Since leaving them, my longing never ends, nor
Does my peace draw near, nor is my slumber sweet.
البَحْرُthe sea تَحْتِيbeneath me وَاللَّظَىand the blaze فِيin أَضْلُعِيmy ribs
البَحْرُ تَحْتِي وَاللَّظَى فِي أَضْلُعِي
وَالمَاءُand the water مِنْfrom حَوْلِيaround me وَقَلْبِيَand my heart صَادِيthirsty
وَالمَاءُ مِنْ حَوْلِي وَقَلْبِيَ صَادِي
The sea is beneath me, and the blaze within my ribs,
And water is all around me, yet my heart is thirsty.
Partial English translation: 50 of 54 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1