خَلِّleave البَدَاوَةَBedouin life رمحَهَاits lance وَحسَامَهَاand its sword
خَلِّ البَدَاوَةَ رمحَهَا وَحسَامَهَا
وَالجاهلِيَّةَand the Age of Ignorance نوقَهَاits she-camels وخيامَهَاand its tents
وَالجاهلِيَّةَ نوقَهَا وخيامَهَا
Leave Bedouin life its lance and its sword,
and the Age of Ignorance its she-camels and its tents.
مَضَتِhave passed العصورُthe ages الخَالِيَاتُbygone فَمَاso what لَنَاfor us
مَضَتِ العصورُ الخَالِيَاتُ فَمَا لَنَا
نَحْيَاwe live بِهَاin them مُتَلَمِّسِينَgroping for ظَلَامَهَاtheir darkness
نَحْيَا بِهَا مُتَلَمِّسِينَ ظَلَامَهَا
The bygone ages have passed; why should we
live in them, groping for their darkness?
أَيَكُونُcan it be عَصْرُthe age of النورِlight طَوْعَat the command of بنانِنَاour fingertips
أَيَكُونُ عَصْرُ النورِ طَوْعَ بنانِنَا
وَنَلُمُّand we gather منfrom تِلْكَthose العُصُورِthe ages حُطَامَهَاtheir wreckage
وَنَلُمُّ من تِلْكَ العُصُورِ حُطَامَهَا
Should the age of light lie at our fingertips,
while we gather the wreckage of those ages?
مَاذَاwhat تُفيدُbenefits الشعرَpoetry وقفةُthe stance of شاعرٍa poet
مَاذَا تُفيدُ الشعرَ وقفةُ شاعرٍ
يَبْكِيhe weeps over الطُّلُولَthe ruins قُعُودَهَاtheir fallen state وَقِيَامَهَاand their standing state
يَبْكِي الطُّلُولَ قُعُودَهَا وَقِيَامَهَا
What does a poet's standing offer poetry,
when he weeps over ruins, fallen or standing?
يَرْثِيhe laments، وَلَاand no طَلَلٌruin هُنَاكَthere وَإِنَّمَاand it is only
يَرْثِي، وَلَا طَلَلٌ هُنَاكَ وَإِنَّمَا
هِيَit عَادَةٌa habit ضَمِنَhas ensured الخُمُولُindolence دَوَامَهَاits continuance
هِيَ عَادَةٌ ضَمِنَ الخُمُولُ دَوَامَهَا
He mourns, though no ruin is there; it is only
a habit whose continuance indolence has ensured.
رَثَّتْhave grown threadbare قَصَائِدُهُhis poems فَمَطْلِعُهَاso their opening «قِفَاstop, you two
رَثَّتْ قَصَائِدُهُ فَمَطْلِعُهَا «قِفَا
نَبْكِlet us weep» الدِّيَارَthe dwellings وَقَدْand perhaps يَكُونُis خِتَامَهَاtheir ending
نَبْكِ» الدِّيَارَ وَقَدْ يَكُونُ خِتَامَهَا
His poems have grown threadbare; they open with “Stop, you two,
let us weep over the dwellings”—and may close with it as well.
شَرْطُthe requirement of البَلَاغَةِeloquence وَضْعُplacing كُلِّevery مَقَالَةٍutterance
شَرْطُ البَلَاغَةِ وَضْعُ كُلِّ مَقَالَةٍ
بِمقَامِهَاin its setting إِمَّاif طلبتَyou seek زِمَامَهَاits reins
بِمقَامِهَا إِمَّا طلبتَ زِمَامَهَا
Eloquence requires placing every utterance
in its proper setting, if you seek to hold its reins.
أَتَكُونُwould you be فِيin الفِرْدَوْسِparadise بَيْنَamong أَزَاهِرٍblossoms
أَتَكُونُ فِي الفِرْدَوْسِ بَيْنَ أَزَاهِرٍ
نَفَحَbreathed upon الغَدِيرُthe pool أَقَاحَهَاtheir daisies وَخُزَامَهَاand their lavender
نَفَحَ الغَدِيرُ أَقَاحَهَا وَخُزَامَهَا
Would you dwell in paradise among blossoms
whose daisies and lavender the pool has breathed upon,
وَتَجِدُّand you toil فِيin الصحراءِthe desert تَطْلُبُyou seek زَهْرَةًa flower
وَتَجِدُّ فِي الصحراءِ تَطْلُبُ زَهْرَةً
مِنْfrom تُرْبَةٍsoil لَفَحَscorched الهَجِيرُthe noonday heat رِغَامَهَاits dust
مِنْ تُرْبَةٍ لَفَحَ الهَجِيرُ رِغَامَهَا
yet toil in the desert seeking a flower
from soil whose dust the noonday heat has scorched?
فَاتْرُكْso abandon تَقَالِيدَthe traditions of القَدِيمِthe old مُهَدِّمًاdemolishing
فَاتْرُكْ تَقَالِيدَ القَدِيمِ مُهَدِّمًا
أَقْدَاسَهَاtheir sacred objects وَمُحَطِّمًاand smashing أَصْنَامَهَاtheir idols
أَقْدَاسَهَا وَمُحَطِّمًا أَصْنَامَهَا
So abandon the traditions of the old, demolishing
their sacred objects and smashing their idols.
بَلِيَhas decayed القَدِيمُthe old بِلىthe decay of عِظَامِthe bones of عِظَامِهِits great men
بَلِيَ القَدِيمُ بِلى عِظَامِ عِظَامِهِ
فَإِلَامَso until when تَنْبُشُwill you dig up فِيin القُبُورِthe graves عِظَامَهَاtheir bones
فَإِلَامَ تَنْبُشُ فِي القُبُورِ عِظَامَهَا
The old has decayed like the bones of its great men;
how long, then, will you rummage in graves for their bones?
وَدَعِand leave السِّيَاسَةَpolitics حَرْبَهَاits war وَسَلَامَهَاand its peace
وَدَعِ السِّيَاسَةَ حَرْبَهَا وَسَلَامَهَا
وَاحْفَظْand preserve لِنَفْسِكَfor yourself فِيin الحَيَاةِlife سَلَامَهَاits peace
وَاحْفَظْ لِنَفْسِكَ فِي الحَيَاةِ سَلَامَهَا
And leave politics its war and its peace,
and preserve for yourself life's peace.
شَطَّlies far away المزَارُthe place to visit فَمَاso not صِيَاحُكَyour shouting نَافِعٌuseful
شَطَّ المزَارُ فَمَا صِيَاحُكَ نَافِعٌ
شَيْئًاanything وَقَدْand already أَلْوَتْhas turned aside بِلَادُكَyour country هَامَهَاits heads
شَيْئًا وَقَدْ أَلْوَتْ بِلَادُكَ هَامَهَا
The place you would visit lies far away; your cries avail
nothing, and your country has turned its heads aside.
أَتَكُونُare you فَارِسَهَاits knight وَتُحْجِمُand you hold back دُونَهَاshort of it
أَتَكُونُ فَارِسَهَا وَتُحْجِمُ دُونَهَا
مُسْتَنْجِدًاseeking help from حورانَهَاits Hauran وَشَآمَهَاand its Sham
مُسْتَنْجِدًا حورانَهَا وَشَآمَهَا
Are you its knight, yet hang back from defending it,
seeking help from its Hauran and its Sham?
والبَحْرُand the sea بَيْنَكَbetween you فِيin الجِهَادِthe struggle وَبَيْنَهَاand between it
والبَحْرُ بَيْنَكَ فِي الجِهَادِ وَبَيْنَهَا
وَقَّاكَshielded you نِيرَانَthe fires of الوَغَىbattle وَسِهَامَهَاand its arrows
وَقَّاكَ نِيرَانَ الوَغَى وَسِهَامَهَا
The sea, between you and it in the struggle,
has shielded you from battle's fires and its arrows.
لِلَّهِto God (in wonder) مِنْof حَرْبٍa war تُثِيرُyou kindle ضِرَامَهَاits blaze
لِلَّهِ مِنْ حَرْبٍ تُثِيرُ ضِرَامَهَا
لِتَرَىso that you see سِوَاكَothers than you وَقِيدَهَاits fuel وَطَعَامَهَاand its food
لِتَرَى سِوَاكَ وَقِيدَهَا وَطَعَامَهَا
What a war, by God, whose blaze you kindle,
only to watch others become its fuel and its food!
إِنَّindeed الأُلَىthose who اسْتَلُّواunsheathed هُنَاhere أَقْلَامَهَاits pens
إِنَّ الأُلَى اسْتَلُّوا هُنَا أَقْلَامَهَا
غَيْرُother than الأُلَىthose who اسْتَلُّواunsheathed هُنَاكَthere حُسَامَهَاits sword
غَيْرُ الأُلَى اسْتَلُّوا هُنَاكَ حُسَامَهَا
Those who unsheathed its pens here
are not those who unsheathed its sword there.
وَالحَامِلُونَand those bearing عَلَىupon الصُّدُورِthe breasts كِلَامَهَاits wounds
وَالحَامِلُونَ عَلَى الصُّدُورِ كِلَامَهَا
غَيْرُother than الرُّوَاةِthe narrators عَنِfrom الصُّدُورِthe breasts كَلَامَهَاtheir words
غَيْرُ الرُّوَاةِ عَنِ الصُّدُورِ كَلَامَهَا
And those who bear its wounds upon their breasts
are not those who recount those breasts' words.
هَذِيthis بِلَادُكَyour country مَاnot نَفَعْتَyou have helped قِيَامَهَاits rising
هَذِي بِلَادُكَ مَا نَفَعْتَ قِيَامَهَا
فِيin مَاwhat نَظَمْتَyou versified وَلَاand not بَعَثْتَyou awakened نِيَامَهَاits sleepers
فِي مَا نَظَمْتَ وَلَا بَعَثْتَ نِيَامَهَا
This is your country: you have not helped its rising
through your verse, nor awakened its sleepers.
هِيَit لَمْhas not تَزَلْceased to be هِيَitself رَغْمَdespite كُلِّevery شَكِيَّةٍcomplaint
هِيَ لَمْ تَزَلْ هِيَ رَغْمَ كُلِّ شَكِيَّةٍ
أَبَدًاforever تسوسُrule ذِئَابُهَاits wolves أَغْنَامَهَاits sheep
أَبَدًا تسوسُ ذِئَابُهَا أَغْنَامَهَا
It is still what it was, despite every complaint;
its wolves forever rule its sheep.
وَمَتَىand when رَأَيْتَyou see كَمَاas تَرَىyou see حُكَّامَهَاits rulers
وَمَتَى رَأَيْتَ كَمَا تَرَى حُكَّامَهَا
فَاحْكُمْthen judge بِفَوْضَىof chaos ضَعْضَعَتْhas undermined أَحْكَامَهَاits laws
فَاحْكُمْ بِفَوْضَى ضَعْضَعَتْ أَحْكَامَهَا
And when you see its rulers as you see them now,
then judge that chaos has undermined its laws.
وَاتْرُكْand leave لِخُدَّامِto the servants of السِّيَاسَةِpolitics أَمْرَهَاits affairs
وَاتْرُكْ لِخُدَّامِ السِّيَاسَةِ أَمْرَهَا
فَهيَfor it الَّتِيis the one that اخْتَارَتْهُمُchose them خُدَّامَهَاits servants
فَهيَ الَّتِي اخْتَارَتْهُمُ خُدَّامَهَا
And leave politics' affairs to its servants,
for it is politics that chose them as its servants.
وَذَوُوand the wielders of السُّيُوفِswords رَعَوْاhonored هُنَاكَthere ذِمَامَهَاits trust
وَذَوُو السُّيُوفِ رَعَوْا هُنَاكَ ذِمَامَهَا
وَلَكَand yours is اليَرَاعَةُthe reed pen فَارْعَso honor أَنْتَyou yourself ذِمَامَهَاits trust
وَلَكَ اليَرَاعَةُ فَارْعَ أَنْتَ ذِمَامَهَا
And the wielders of swords have kept faith with it there;
yours is the pen—keep faith with it yourself.
بَلَدُthe land of البَدَائِعِwonders يَحْتَوِيكَshelters you فَحَيِّهِso greet it
بَلَدُ البَدَائِعِ يَحْتَوِيكَ فَحَيِّهِ
بِبَدَائِعٍwith wonders عَزَّتْwere hard to attain عَلَىfor مَنْwhoever رَامَهَاsought them
بِبَدَائِعٍ عَزَّتْ عَلَى مَنْ رَامَهَا
The land of wonders shelters you: greet it
with wonders hard to attain for those who seek them.
هَذَاthis مُقَامُthe abode of الوَحْيِrevelation فِيin جَنَبَاتِهِits precincts
هَذَا مُقَامُ الوَحْيِ فِي جَنَبَاتِهِ
جَعَلَتْhave made مَلَائِكَةُthe angels of الخَيَالِimagination مُقَامَهَاtheir abode
جَعَلَتْ مَلَائِكَةُ الخَيَالِ مُقَامَهَا
This is revelation's abode; within its precincts
the angels of imagination have made their home.
فَاسْتَوْحِso seek inspiration from سينَاءَthe Sinai of الجَمَالِbeauty قَصِيدَةًa poem
فَاسْتَوْحِ سينَاءَ الجَمَالِ قَصِيدَةً
تُهديoffers as a gift الجمالَbeauty صَلَاتَهَاits prayer وَسَلَامَهَاand its greeting of peace
تُهدي الجمالَ صَلَاتَهَا وَسَلَامَهَا
Draw a poem's inspiration from the Sinai of beauty,
a poem offering beauty its prayer and its greeting of peace.
هِيَit مِنْamong عُيُونِthe gems of الشِّعْرِpoetry نَزَّلَsent down وَحْيَهَاits revelation
هِيَ مِنْ عُيُونِ الشِّعْرِ نَزَّلَ وَحْيَهَا
شِعْرُthe poetry of العُيُونِeyes وَأَنْتَand you صُغْتَfashioned نِظَامَهَاits verse-form
شِعْرُ العُيُونِ وَأَنْتَ صُغْتَ نِظَامَهَا
It is one of poetry's gems; its revelation was sent down
by the poetry of eyes, and you shaped its verse.
حَلَمَتْdreamed بِجَنَّاتِof gardens of النَّعِيمِbliss نُفُوسُنَاour souls
حَلَمَتْ بِجَنَّاتِ النَّعِيمِ نُفُوسُنَا
حَتَّىuntil رَأَتْهُthey saw it فَحَقَّقَتْso they fulfilled أَحْلَامَهَاtheir dreams
حَتَّى رَأَتْهُ فَحَقَّقَتْ أَحْلَامَهَا
Our souls dreamed of gardens of bliss,
until they saw it and fulfilled their dreams.
تَمْشِيwalk الفُصُولُthe seasons عَلَيْهِover it مِشْيَتَهَاtheir gait وَمَاand not
تَمْشِي الفُصُولُ عَلَيْهِ مِشْيَتَهَا وَمَا
بَرِحَceased الرَّبِيعُspring مُرَافِقًاaccompanying أَيَّامَهَاtheir days
بَرِحَ الرَّبِيعُ مُرَافِقًا أَيَّامَهَا
The seasons walk across it in their own gait, and never
has spring ceased to accompany their days.
يُغْوِيكَentices you فِيهِin it البَحْرُthe sea وَهْوَwhile it مُلَمْلِمٌgathers
يُغْوِيكَ فِيهِ البَحْرُ وَهْوَ مُلَمْلِمٌ
أَمْوَاجَهُits waves حَتَّىuntil تَخَافَyou fear زِحَامَهَاtheir throng
أَمْوَاجَهُ حَتَّى تَخَافَ زِحَامَهَا
There the sea entices you as it gathers
its waves until you fear their throng.
مَاnot أَنْthat تَرَىyou see فِيin جَزْرِهِits ebb إِحْجَامَهَاtheir retreat
مَا أَنْ تَرَى فِي جَزْرِهِ إِحْجَامَهَا
حَتَّىuntil تَرَىyou see فِيin مدِّهِits flood tide إِقْدَامَهَاtheir advance
حَتَّى تَرَى فِي مدِّهِ إِقْدَامَهَا
No sooner do you see them draw back with its ebb
than you see them advance with its flow.
وَيرُوعُكَand awes you الجَبَلُthe mountain الأَشَمُّlofty مُعَانِقًاembracing
وَيرُوعُكَ الجَبَلُ الأَشَمُّ مُعَانِقًا
سُحْبَthe clouds of السماءِthe sky مُطَاوِلًاvying in height with أَجْرَامَهَاits heavenly bodies
سُحْبَ السماءِ مُطَاوِلًا أَجْرَامَهَا
And the lofty mountain awes you, embracing
the sky's clouds, vying in height with its heavenly bodies.
خلعَbestowed الخلودُeternity عَلَيْهِupon it ثَوْبَa robe of مَهَابَةٍmajesty
خلعَ الخلودُ عَلَيْهِ ثَوْبَ مَهَابَةٍ
سجدَbowed down الزمانُtime برغمِهِagainst its will قُدَّامَهَاbefore it
سجدَ الزمانُ برغمِهِ قُدَّامَهَا
Eternity clothed it in a robe of majesty;
Time, despite itself, bowed down before that majesty.
أَمَّاas for شَوَاطِئُهُits shores فَكَمْhow many لِيfor me وَقْفَةٌa halt
أَمَّا شَوَاطِئُهُ فَكَمْ لِي وَقْفَةٌ
بِرِحَابِهَاin their expanses مُسْتَنْزِلًاcalling down إِلْهَامَهَاtheir inspiration
بِرِحَابِهَا مُسْتَنْزِلًا إِلْهَامَهَا
As for its shores, how often I have stood
in their expanses, calling down their inspiration!
نَامَتْslept عَلَىon حِضْنِthe lap of المُحِيطِthe ocean فَأَيْقَظَتْso awakened
نَامَتْ عَلَى حِضْنِ المُحِيطِ فَأَيْقَظَتْ
عَيْنَthe eye of المُحِيطِthe ocean فَلَنْso will not تذوقَtaste مَنَامَهَاits slumber
عَيْنَ المُحِيطِ فَلَنْ تذوقَ مَنَامَهَا
They slept in the ocean's lap, but awakened
the ocean's eye, which will never taste its own slumber.
وَشَدَاand sang لَهَاto them بِهَدِيرِهِwith its roar تَهْوِيمَةًa lullaby
وَشَدَا لَهَا بِهَدِيرِهِ تَهْوِيمَةً
أَبَدًاforever يُوَقِّعُbeats out مَوْجُهُits waves أَنْغَامَهَاits melodies
أَبَدًا يُوَقِّعُ مَوْجُهُ أَنْغَامَهَا
And with its roar it sang them a lullaby,
whose melodies its waves forever beat out.
فَعَلَىso upon الأَصِيلِlate afternoon هُنَاكَthere صُفْرَةُa yellow pallor of غَيْرَةٍjealousy
فَعَلَى الأَصِيلِ هُنَاكَ صُفْرَةُ غَيْرَةٍ
فَضَحَتْbetrayed عَوَاطِفَthe feelings of شَمْسِهِits sun وَغَرَامَهَاand her passion
فَضَحَتْ عَوَاطِفَ شَمْسِهِ وَغَرَامَهَا
Late afternoon there wears the yellow pallor of jealousy,
betraying the feelings of its sun and her passion.
فَتُحِسُّso you sense فِيin بَرْدِthe chill of الأَثِيرِthe ether دُمُوعَهَاher tears
فَتُحِسُّ فِي بَرْدِ الأَثِيرِ دُمُوعَهَا
وَتَجِسُّand you feel فِيin بُرْدِthe mantle of النَّسِيمِthe breeze سِقَامَهَاher sickness
وَتَجِسُّ فِي بُرْدِ النَّسِيمِ سِقَامَهَا
You sense her tears in the chill of the ether,
and feel her sickness in the breeze's mantle.
حَتَّىuntil إِذَاwhen هَبَطَdescended الظلامُdarkness وبخَّرَتْand dissipated
حَتَّى إِذَا هَبَطَ الظلامُ وبخَّرَتْ
أَنْفَاسهُits breaths فَوْقَabove الرمالِthe sands ضِرَامَهَاtheir blaze
أَنْفَاسهُ فَوْقَ الرمالِ ضِرَامَهَا
Until, when darkness falls and dispels
with its breaths the blazing heat above the sands,
شاهدتَyou beheld أَجْمَلَthe most beautiful مَنْظَرٍscene فِيin وَصْفِهِdescribing it
شاهدتَ أَجْمَلَ مَنْظَرٍ فِي وَصْفِهِ
يُعْييexhausts اليراعَةَthe reed pen أَنْto تَنَالَattain مَرَامَهَاits aim
يُعْيي اليراعَةَ أَنْ تَنَالَ مَرَامَهَا
you behold the loveliest scene, whose description
defeats the pen's endeavor to attain its aim.
أفُقٌa horizon مِنَof الأَنْوَارِlights شَعَّshone عَلَىupon الثَّرَىthe earth
أفُقٌ مِنَ الأَنْوَارِ شَعَّ عَلَى الثَّرَى
وَدَّتْwished سَمَاؤُكَyour sky لَوْif only كَسَتْهُcould clothe it غَمَامَهَاits clouds
وَدَّتْ سَمَاؤُكَ لَوْ كَسَتْهُ غَمَامَهَا
A horizon of lights shines upon the earth,
which your sky wishes it could clothe in its clouds.
فَتَظُنُّso you think نَفْسَكَyourself ضِمْنَwithin عِقْدِa necklace of لآلئٍpearls
فَتَظُنُّ نَفْسَكَ ضِمْنَ عِقْدِ لآلئٍ
خفِيَتْvanished مَصَابِيحُthe lamps of النُّجُومِthe stars أَمَامَهَاbefore them
خفِيَتْ مَصَابِيحُ النُّجُومِ أَمَامَهَا
You think yourself within a necklace of pearls,
before which the lamps of the stars have vanished.
وَتَخَالُand you imagine فوقَabove البحرِthe sea مِنْfrom أَشْبَاحِهَاtheir shadowy forms
وَتَخَالُ فوقَ البحرِ مِنْ أَشْبَاحِهَا
غِيدًاlithe maidens يُدَغْدِغُtickles مَاؤُهُits water أَجْسَامَهَاtheir bodies
غِيدًا يُدَغْدِغُ مَاؤُهُ أَجْسَامَهَا
And in their shadowy forms above the sea, you imagine
lithe maidens whose bodies its water tickles.
لَمْdid not تَدْرِyou know هَلْwhether جَعَلَتْthey made بِهِin it مِرْآتَهَاtheir mirror
لَمْ تَدْرِ هَلْ جَعَلَتْ بِهِ مِرْآتَهَا
أَمْor أَنَّهَاthat they جَعَلَتْmade بِهِin it حَمَّامَهَاtheir bath؟
أَمْ أَنَّهَا جَعَلَتْ بِهِ حَمَّامَهَا؟
You do not know whether they have made it their mirror,
or whether they have made it their bath.
تِلْكَthose الشَّوَاطِئُshores لَاnot عَدِمْتَyou lose جَمَالَهَاtheir beauty
تِلْكَ الشَّوَاطِئُ لَا عَدِمْتَ جَمَالَهَا
وَجَمَالَand the beauty of غَادَاتٍmaidens حَكَيْنَresembled حَمَامَهَاtheir doves
وَجَمَالَ غَادَاتٍ حَكَيْنَ حَمَامَهَا
Those shores—may you never lose their beauty,
nor the beauty of maidens who resemble their doves!
يَخْطِرْنَthey sway فِيin حُلَلِrobes of الدَّلَالِcoquetry فَهَلْso has ...? رَأَتْseen
يَخْطِرْنَ فِي حُلَلِ الدَّلَالِ فَهَلْ رَأَتْ
فِيin البِيدِthe wastes عَيْنُكَyour eye رِيمَهَاtheir gazelles وَنَعَامَهَاand their ostriches؟
فِي البِيدِ عَيْنُكَ رِيمَهَا وَنَعَامَهَا؟
They sway in robes of coquetry; has your eye ever seen
the desert's gazelles and ostriches in the wastes?
مِنْfrom كُلِّevery سَافِرَةٍunveiled maiden رَمَتْshot فِيinto مُهْجَتِيmy heart
مِنْ كُلِّ سَافِرَةٍ رَمَتْ فِي مُهْجَتِي
سَهْمًاan arrow فَأَقْعَدَهَاso made it sit الهَوَىlove وَأَقَامَهَاand made it stand
سَهْمًا فَأَقْعَدَهَا الهَوَى وَأَقَامَهَا
Every unveiled maiden among them shot into my heart
an arrow; love has cast it down and raised it up.
لَثَمَkissed النسيمُthe breeze خدُودَهَاher cheeks فَتَلَثَّمَتْso she veiled herself
لَثَمَ النسيمُ خدُودَهَا فَتَلَثَّمَتْ
لَكِنَّbut مِنْof وَرْدِthe roses of الحَيَاءِmodesty لثَامَهَاher veil
لَكِنَّ مِنْ وَرْدِ الحَيَاءِ لثَامَهَا
The breeze kissed her cheeks, and she veiled herself,
but her veil is made of the roses of modesty.
خَفَّتْbecame light لِرِقَّةِbecause of the delicacy of رُوحِهَاher spirit فَإِذَاso when خَطَتْshe stepped
خَفَّتْ لِرِقَّةِ رُوحِهَا فَإِذَا خَطَتْ
فَوْقَupon الأَزَاهِرِthe flowers مَاnot لَوَتْshe bent أَكْمَامَهَاtheir calyxes
فَوْقَ الأَزَاهِرِ مَا لَوَتْ أَكْمَامَهَا
Her spirit's delicacy makes her light; when she steps
upon flowers, she does not bend their calyxes.
وَإِذَاand when مَشَتْshe walked بَيْنَamong العُيُونِthe eyes ملمَّةًpassing briefly
وَإِذَا مَشَتْ بَيْنَ العُيُونِ ملمَّةً
كَادَتْalmost جُفُونُكَyour eyelids لَاnot تَعِيperceive إِلْمَامَهَاher passing
كَادَتْ جُفُونُكَ لَا تَعِي إِلْمَامَهَا
And when she passes briefly among the eyes,
your eyelids can scarcely sense her passing.
فُتِنَwas enchanted المُحِيطُthe ocean كَمَاas فُتِنْتُI was enchanted بِحُسْنِهَاby her beauty
فُتِنَ المُحِيطُ كَمَا فُتِنْتُ بِحُسْنِهَا
فَهَوىso bent low يُقَبِّلُkissing مَوْجُهُits waves أَقْدَامَهَاher feet
فَهَوى يُقَبِّلُ مَوْجُهُ أَقْدَامَهَا
The ocean was enchanted, as I was, by her beauty,
so it bowed low, its waves kissing her feet.
رُوحِيmy soul فِدَىa ransom for أَعْطَافِهَاher curves يَاO لَيْتَهَاif only she
رُوحِي فِدَى أَعْطَافِهَا يَا لَيْتَهَا
عَطَفَتْinclined kindly وَقَدْand already عَطَفَhad bent الدَّلَالُcoquetry قوَامَهَاher figure
عَطَفَتْ وَقَدْ عَطَفَ الدَّلَالُ قوَامَهَا
My soul a ransom for her curves! If only she
would incline toward me, as coquetry has bent her figure.
يَاO لَلرُّبُوعِfor the places! الزَّاهِيَاتِradiant مُثِيرَةًstirring
يَا لَلرُّبُوعِ الزَّاهِيَاتِ مُثِيرَةً
ذِكْرَىa memory بِنَفْسِيin my soul حَرَّكَتْawakened آلَامَهَاits pains
ذِكْرَى بِنَفْسِي حَرَّكَتْ آلَامَهَا
Ah, those radiant places, stirring
a memory in my soul that awakened its pains:
ذِكْرَىthe remembrance of الغَرِيبِthe stranger لِأَهْلِهِof his family وَبِلَادِهِand his homeland
ذِكْرَى الغَرِيبِ لِأَهْلِهِ وَبِلَادِهِ
فِيin غُرْبَةٍexile مَلَأَfilled الجَوَىheartache أَعْوَامَهَاits years
فِي غُرْبَةٍ مَلَأَ الجَوَى أَعْوَامَهَا
the stranger's remembrance of his family and his homeland,
in an exile whose years are filled with heartache.
Sol 6.1