تَأَمَّلتُI reflected ماwhat أَفنيتI used up مِنof طُولthe length of مُدَتيmy lifetime
تَأَمَّلتُ ما أَفنيت مِن طُول مُدَتي
فلمand did not أَرَهُsee it إِلاexcept كلمحةِlike a glance ناظِرِof an onlooker
فلم أَرَهُ إِلا كلمحةِ ناظِرِ
I reflected on what I had spent of my long lifetime,
and saw it as no more than an onlooker's glance.
وحَصَّلْتُand I reckoned up ماwhat أَدركْتُI attained مِنfrom طُولthe duration of لِذَّتيmy pleasure
وحَصَّلْتُ ما أَدركْتُ مِن طُول لِذَّتي
فلمand did not أُلْفِهِfind it إِلَّاexcept كصَفْقةِlike a bargain خاسِرِof a loser
فلم أُلْفِهِ إِلَّا كصَفْقةِ خاسِرِ
And I reckoned up what I had gained from my long enjoyment,
and found it no more than a loser's bargain.
وَماand not أَناI إِلاexcept رَهْنُheld in pledge for ماwhat قَدَّمَتْsent ahead يَديmy hand
وَما أَنا إِلا رَهْنُ ما قَدَّمَتْ يَدي
إِذاwhen غادَرُونيthey leave me بَيْنَamong أَهْلِthe dwellers of المَقابِرِthe graves
إِذا غادَرُوني بَيْنَ أَهْلِ المَقابِرِ
And I am but held in pledge for what my hand has sent ahead,
when they leave me among the dwellers of the graves.
سَقَىmay water اللَّهُGod فتْياناًyoung men كأَنّas though وُجُوهَهُمْtheir faces
سَقَى اللَّهُ فتْياناً كأَنّ وُجُوهَهُمْ
وُجُوهُthe faces of مَصَابِيحِthe lamps of النُّجُومِthe stars الزَّواهِرِradiant
وُجُوهُ مَصَابِيحِ النُّجُومِ الزَّواهِرِ
May God water young men whose faces seem
like the faces of the lamps of the radiant stars.
إِذاwhen ذَكَرُونيthey remember me والثَّرَىwhile the soil فَوْقَabove أَعْظُمِيmy bones
إِذا ذَكَرُوني والثَّرَى فَوْقَ أَعْظُمِي
بكَواthey weep بعُيُونٍwith eyes كالسَّحابِlike the clouds المواطِرِpouring rain
بكَوا بعُيُونٍ كالسَّحابِ المواطِرِ
When they remember me, with the soil above my bones,
they weep with eyes like clouds pouring rain.
يَقُولُونَthey say قدindeed أَوْدَىhas perished أَبُوfather of عامِرِAmir العُلاlofty glory
يَقُولُونَ قد أَوْدَى أَبُو عامِرِ العُلا
أَقِلُّواlament less فقِدْماًfor long ago ماتَdied آباءُthe fathers of عامِرِAmir
أَقِلُّوا فقِدْماً ماتَ آباءُ عامِرِ
They say, 'Abu Amir of lofty glory has perished.'
Lament less: Amir's fathers died long ago.
هوit is المَوْتُdeath لمnot يُعْرَفْbe known بأَجْراِسby the tones of خاطِبٍan orator
هو المَوْتُ لم يُعْرَفْ بأَجْراِس خاطِبٍ
بَلِيغٍeloquent ولمand not يُعطَفْbe swayed بأَنْفاسِby the breaths of شاعِرِa poet
بَلِيغٍ ولم يُعطَفْ بأَنْفاسِ شاعِرِ
It is death, not known through the tones of an orator,
however eloquent, nor swayed by a poet's breath.
ولمand not يَجْتَنِبْspare للبَطْشِbecause of might مُهْجةَthe lifeblood of قادِرٍa powerful man
ولم يَجْتَنِبْ للبَطْشِ مُهْجةَ قادِرٍ
قوىٍّstrong ولاnor للضَّعْفِbecause of weakness مُهْجةَthe lifeblood of صافِرِa timid whistler
قوىٍّ ولا للضَّعْفِ مُهْجةَ صافِرِ
Nor has it spared, for his might, the lifeblood of a powerful man,
however strong, nor, for weakness, the lifeblood of a timid whistler.
يَحُلُّit loosens عُرَىthe bonds of الجَبَّارthe mighty ruler فيin دارِthe seat of مُلْكِهِhis dominion
يَحُلُّ عُرَى الجَبَّار في دارِ مُلْكِهِ
ويهفُوand flies off بنَفْسِwith the soul of الشارِبِthe drinker المتساكِرِfeigning drunkenness
ويهفُو بنَفْسِ الشارِبِ المتساكِرِ
It loosens the mighty ruler's bonds in the seat of his dominion,
and flies off with the soul of the drinker feigning drunkenness.
ولَيْسَand it is not عَجِيباًstrange أَنthat تدانَتْhas drawn near منيّتيmy death
ولَيْسَ عَجِيباً أَن تدانَتْ منيّتي
يُصَدقُconfirms فيهاin it أَوليmy beginning أَمْرthe fate of آخِريmy end
يُصَدقُ فيها أَولي أَمْر آخِري
It is no wonder that my death has drawn near;
in it, my beginning confirms the fate of my end.
وَلَكِنْand yet عَجِيباًstrange أَنthat بَيْنَbetween جَوانِحِيmy ribs
وَلَكِنْ عَجِيباً أَن بَيْنَ جَوانِحِي
هَوىa passion كَشَرَارِlike the sparks of الجمْرةِthe glowing coal المتطايِرِflying about
هَوى كَشَرَارِ الجمْرةِ المتطايِرِ
But it is a wonder that between my ribs
lies a passion like the flying sparks of a glowing coal:
يحرِّكُنيit stirs me والمَوْتُwhile death يَحْفُرُdigs into مُهجتيmy lifeblood
يحرِّكُني والمَوْتُ يَحْفُرُ مُهجتي
ويهتاجُنيand rouses me والنَّفْسُwhile the soul عِنْدَat حناجريmy throats
ويهتاجُني والنَّفْسُ عِنْدَ حناجري
it stirs me while death digs into my lifeblood,
and rouses me while my soul is at my throat.
Sol 6.1