بُخلاًmiserliness! بِهَذاin this الدَهرِage لَستُI am not أَراكِseeing you
بُخلاً بِهَذا الدَهرِ لَستُ أَراكِ
وَإِذاand if سَلاforgot his love أَحَدٌanyone فَلَستُthen I am not كَذاكِlike that
وَإِذا سَلا أَحَدٌ فَلَستُ كَذاكِ
How miserly this age is—I do not see you!
With this life I see you no more, though others beg I deny ever knowing you.
And if anyone forgets his love, I am not so.
You left one sick with love, beware of blood like his, beware!
غادَرتِyou left ذاone with سَقمٍillness بِحُبُّكِthrough love for you مُدنَفاًwasted by illness
غادَرتِ ذا سَقمٍ بِحُبُّكِ مُدنَفاً
إِيّاكِbeware! مِنof دَمِthe blood مِثلِهِone like him إِيّاكِbeware!
إِيّاكِ مِن دَمِ مِثلِهِ إِيّاكِ
You left a sick man wasting away with love for you.
The eyes of singing girls have enchanted and killed, none has done like yours to me.
Beware of shedding the blood of one like him—beware!
They would not cease till my blood flowed red from theirarrows, I was counted among your victims.
سَحَرَتbewitched عُيونُthe eyes الغانِياتِof beautiful women وَقَتَّلَتand slaughtered
سَحَرَت عُيونُ الغانِياتِ وَقَتَّلَت
لاnot مِثلَlike ماwhat فَعَلَتdid بِهِto him عَيناكِyour two eyes
لا مِثلَ ما فَعَلَت بِهِ عَيناكِ
The eyes of beautiful women have bewitched and slain,
The new moon sang her to sleep, and dawn found her like the rising sun, stringing pearls with your name.
But not as your two eyes have done to him.
No abode like Duwaira, O house of Jadak! Showersand irrigation are yours.
لَمnot تُقلِعاthey both desisted حَتّىuntil تَخَضَّبَbecame stained مِنwith دَميmy blood
لَم تُقلِعا حَتّى تَخَضَّبَ مِن دَمي
سَهماهُماtheir two arrows وَحُسِبتُand I was counted مِنamong قَتلاكِyour slain
سَهماهُما وَحُسِبتُ مِن قَتلاكِ
They did not desist until my blood had stained
Woe to a time whose turns have parted us. Passion for you will not be erased from my heart nor you from my mind.
Their two arrows, and I was counted among your slain.
Since you left no sight has been beautiful, all homes are miserable except yours.
باتَتshe spent the night يُغَنّيهاsang to her الحِليُّthe jewelry وَأَصبَحَتand at dawn she was
باتَت يُغَنّيها الحِليُّ وَأَصبَحَت
كَالشَمسِlike the sun تَنظِمُshe strings جَوهَراًjewels بِأَراكِwith an arak twig
كَالشَمسِ تَنظِمُ جَوهَراً بِأَراكِ
She spent the night with her jewelry singing to her, and at dawn was
Which haunt of yours shall I mourn, your touch at dusk or your pillow at dawn?
Like the sun, stringing jewels with an arak twig.
Or the cool of your shadow, your eyes and your life, or your land of sweet basil and bay tree?
لاno مِثلَlike مَنزِلَةِthe dwelling-place الدُوَيرَةِal-Duwayra مَنزِلٌa dwelling
لا مِثلَ مَنزِلَةِ الدُوَيرَةِ مَنزِلٌ
ياO دارُdwelling جادَكِmay it shower you generously وابِلٌa downpour وَسَقاكِand may it water you
يا دارُ جادَكِ وابِلٌ وَسَقاكِ
No dwelling is like the abode at al-Duwayra.
As if the dice of amber fell from your hands, or musk burst from its pod on your carpet.
O dwelling, may a downpour lavish rain upon you and water you!
As if the pebbles of your earth were pearls, and dew of flowers were tears you shed.
بُؤساًwoe! لِدَهرٍto an age غَيَّرَتكِchanged you صُروفُهُits vicissitudes
بُؤساً لِدَهرٍ غَيَّرَتكِ صُروفُهُ
لَمnot يَمحُerase مِنfrom قَلبيmy heart الهَوىlove وَمَحاكِand erased you
لَم يَمحُ مِن قَلبي الهَوى وَمَحاكِ
Woe to an age whose vicissitudes have changed you!
As if the hands of spring had scattered their blossoms over your porch as an offering.
It has not erased love from my heart, yet has erased you.
As if a coat of mail wrought of silver were the water of the pool flowing over it.
لَمnot يَحلُbe pleasing لِلعَينَينِto the two eyes بَعدَكِafter you مَنظَرٌa sight
لَم يَحلُ لِلعَينَينِ بَعدَكِ مَنظَرٌ
ذُمَّbe reviled المَنازِلُthe dwellings كُلُّهُنَّall of them سِواكِexcept you
ذُمَّ المَنازِلُ كُلُّهُنَّ سِواكِ
After you, no sight has pleased my eyes.
May all dwellings be reviled, every one but you.
أَيَّwhich المَعاهِدِfamiliar haunts مِنكِof yours أَندُبُI lament طيبَهُits sweetness
أَيَّ المَعاهِدِ مِنكِ أَندُبُ طيبَهُ
مُمساكِyour evening haunt فيin الآصالِlate afternoons أَمor مَغداكِyour morning haunt
مُمساكِ في الآصالِ أَم مَغداكِ
Which of your familiar haunts shall I mourn for its sweetness—
Your evening haunt at eventide, or your morning haunt?
أَمor بَردُcoolness ظِلِّكَyour shade ذيwith العُيونِsprings وَذيand with الحَياrain
أَم بَردُ ظِلِّكَ ذي العُيونِ وَذي الحَيا
أَمor أَرضُكِyour ground المَيثاءُsoft أَمor رَيّاكِyour fragrance
أَم أَرضُكِ المَيثاءُ أَم رَيّاكِ
Or the coolness of your shade, with springs and rain,
Or your soft ground, or your fragrance?
فَكَأَنَّماfor it is as though سَقَطَتfell مَجامِرُcensers عَنبَرٍof ambergris
فَكَأَنَّما سَقَطَت مَجامِرُ عَنبَرٍ
أَوor فُتَّwere crumbled فَأرُpods المِسكِof musk فَوقَover ثَراكِyour soil
أَو فُتَّ فَأرُ المِسكِ فَوقَ ثَراكِ
For it is as though censers of ambergris had fallen,
Or musk pods had been crumbled over your soil;
وَكَأَنَّماand as though حَصباءُthe pebbles أَرضِكِof your ground جَوهَرٌjewels
وَكَأَنَّما حَصباءُ أَرضِكِ جَوهَرٌ
وَكَأَنَّand as though ماءَthe water الوَردِof roses دَمعُthe tears نَداكِof your dew
وَكَأَنَّ ماءَ الوَردِ دَمعُ نَداكِ
And as though the pebbles of your ground were jewels,
And as though rosewater were the tears of your dew;
وَكَأَنَّماand as though أَيديthe hands الرَبيعِof spring ضُحَيَّةًat midmorning
وَكَأَنَّما أَيدي الرَبيعِ ضُحَيَّةً
نَثَرَتscattered ثِيابَgarments الوَشيِof brocade فَوقَover رُباكِyour hills
نَثَرَت ثِيابَ الوَشيِ فَوقَ رُباكِ
And as though the hands of spring, at midmorning,
Had scattered brocade garments over your hills;
وَكَأَنَّand as though دِرعاًa coat of mail مُفرَغاًcast مِنfrom فِضَّةٍsilver
وَكَأَنَّ دِرعاً مُفرَغاً مِن فِضَّةٍ
ماءُthe water الغَديرِof the pool جَرَتpassed عَلَيهِover it صِباكِyour east wind
ماءُ الغَديرِ جَرَت عَلَيهِ صِباكِ
And as though a coat of mail cast from silver
Were the pool's water, over which your east wind passed.
Partial English translation: 14 of 28 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1