يَاO طَلْعَةَvisage الشُّومِof ill omen التَّيwhich مَهْمَاwhenever بَدَتْappeared
يَا طَلْعَةَ الشُّومِ التَّي مَهْمَا بَدَتْ
يَئِسَتْdespaired عُفَاةُseekers النُّجْحِof success مِنْof أَسْبَابِهِits means
يَئِسَتْ عُفَاةُ النُّجْحِ مِنْ أَسْبَابِهِ
O ill-omened visage, whose every appearance
O dawn of ill omens that no matter how it seems
Makes seekers of success despair of the means to attain it.
The means of success have despaired of its causes
يَاO وَقْفَةَthe halt النَّاعِيِof the death-announcer بِمَقْتَلwith news of a killing وَاحِدٍone person
يَا وَقْفَةَ النَّاعِيِ بِمَقْتَل وَاحِدٍ
أَذْكَىkindled عَلَىupon الأَحْشَاءِthe entrails حَرَّthe heat مُصَابِهِof his loss
أَذْكَى عَلَى الأَحْشَاءِ حَرَّ مُصَابِهِ
O halt of the death-announcer reporting one slain,
O pausing of the mourner for the death of one
Kindling in the entrails the burning grief of his loss.
That revived in the entrails the heat of his affliction
يَاO زَوْرَةَvisitation الأَلَمِof pain الَّذِيwhich مَهْمَاwhenever يُرَىis seen
يَا زَوْرَةَ الأَلَمِ الَّذِي مَهْمَا يُرَى
جَاءَتْcame رِكَابُthe riding camels الْمَوْتِof death فِيin أَعْقَابِهِits wake
جَاءَتْ رِكَابُ الْمَوْتِ فِي أَعْقَابِهِ
O visitation of pain, whenever it is seen,
O blossoming of pain that no matter how much it is seen
Death's riding camels arrive in its wake.
The feet of death came in its aftermath
يَاO فُرْقَةَparting from السَّكَنِthe beloved الَّذِيwho لاَnot تَرْتَجِيhopes for
يَا فُرْقَةَ السَّكَنِ الَّذِي لاَ تَرْتَجِي
يَوْمَon the day الْودَاعof farewell النَّفْسُthe soul يَوْمَthe day إِيَابِهِof his return
يَوْمَ الْودَاع النَّفْسُ يَوْمَ إِيَابِهِ
O parting from the beloved, with no hope
O parting of dwelling that does not shudder
In the soul, on farewell's day, for the day of his return.
The soul on the day of farewell, the day of its return
يَاO صِبْغَةَthe tint الشَّيْبِof gray hair الْمُلِمّsettling بِعَارِضon a cheek
يَا صِبْغَةَ الشَّيْبِ الْمُلِمّ بِعَارِض
زَجَرَتْdrove off حَمَائِمُهُhis doves غُرَابَthe raven شَبَابِهِof his youth
زَجَرَتْ حَمَائِمُهُ غُرَابَ شَبَابِهِ
O tint of gray hair settling on a cheek,
O dyeing of hoary hair that blamed
Whose doves have driven off the raven of his youth.
Its doves drove away the crows of its youth
يَاO مَوْقِعَthe impact الْفَقْرِof poverty الشَّدِيدِsevere عَلَىupon الْغِنَىwealth
يَا مَوْقِعَ الْفَقْرِ الشَّدِيدِ عَلَى الْغِنَى
مِنْof ذِيone with ضَنىًwasting sickness تُغْرِيyou incite الْفَلاَthe wastelands بِرِكَابِهِagainst his riding camels
مِنْ ذِي ضَنىً تُغْرِي الْفَلاَ بِرِكَابِهِ
O dire poverty's blow upon the wealth
O position of severe poverty over wealth
Of a sickly man—you incite the wastelands against his camels.
From one of misery that entices destinations with its stirrups
يَاO وَقفةَthe waiting الَطُّلاَّبِof petitioners فِيat بَابِthe door امْرِئٍof a man
يَا وَقفةَ الَطُّلاَّبِ فِي بَابِ امْرِئٍ
تُخْزَىare shamed سِبَالُهُمْtheir mustaches لَدَىbefore بَوَّابِهِhis doorkeeper
تُخْزَى سِبَالُهُمْ لَدَى بَوَّابِهِ
O the petitioners' waiting at a man's door,
O stopping of students at the door of a lord
Their mustaches are shamed before his doorkeeper.
Their sword belts are humiliated at his doorkeeper
يَاO خَجْلَةًa humiliation مِنْfrom ضَارِطٍone who farts فِيin مَحْفِلٍa gathering
يَا خَجْلَةً مِنْ ضَارِطٍ فِي مَحْفِلٍ
تَبْقَىremains غَضَاضَتُهَاits disgrace عَلَىupon أَعْقَابِهِhis descendants
تَبْقَى غَضَاضَتُهَا عَلَى أَعْقَابِهِ
O the shame of one who farts in a gathering,
O shame from one who breaks wind in a gathering
Its disgrace remains upon his descendants.
Its embarrassment remains after it
وَفَضِيحَةَand the disgrace الْخَوَّانِof the habitual betrayer لَمَّاwhen أَلْفِيَتْwere found
وَفَضِيحَةَ الْخَوَّانِ لَمَّا أَلْفِيَتْ
أَسْبَابُbelongings مَنْof one who يَبْغِيهِseeks him تَحْتَbeneath ثيَابِهِhis clothes
أَسْبَابُ مَنْ يَبْغِيهِ تَحْتَ ثيَابِهِ
And the betrayer's disgrace, when there were found
And the disgrace of the deceitful when
Beneath his clothes, the belongings of the one seeking him.
The causes of one who seeks it are found under his clothes
يَاO مَنْone whose تَشَكَّىcomplained عَصْرُهُhis age مِنْof عَارِهِhis disgrace
يَا مَنْ تَشَكَّى عَصْرُهُ مِنْ عَارِهِ
يَاO مَنْone whose تَبَرَّمَgrew weary دَهْرُهُhis era مِنْof عَابِهِhis blemish
يَا مَنْ تَبَرَّمَ دَهْرُهُ مِنْ عَابِهِ
O you whose age complained of your disgrace,
O one whom his time complained of his shame
O you whose era grew weary of your blemish,
O one whom his world blamed for his fault
يَاO مَنْone whom يَغَصُّchokes بِهِon him الزَّمَانُTime نَدَامَةًout of remorse
يَا مَنْ يَغَصُّ بِهِ الزَّمَانُ نَدَامَةً
مِنْbecause of كَفِّهِits hand وَتَرَاهُand you see it قَارِعَstriking نَابِهِits fang
مِنْ كَفِّهِ وَتَرَاهُ قَارِعَ نَابِهِ
O you on whom Time chokes in remorse
O one whom time chokes with regret
For its own handiwork; you see it striking its fang.
For his palm and sees him battering his fangs
وَيَغُضُّand lowers مِنْout of فَرْطِexcess الْحَيَاءِshame جُفُونَهُits eyelids
وَيَغُضُّ مِنْ فَرْطِ الْحَيَاءِ جُفُونَهُ
مِنْbecause of سُوءِthe evil of مَاwhat قَدْalready جَاءَهُdid it وَأَتَىand came بِهِwith it
مِنْ سُوءِ مَا قَدْ جَاءَهُ وَأَتَى بِهِ
And it lowers its eyelids out of excessive shame,
And whose eyelids crease from intense shame
At the evil of what it has done and brought forth.
At the evil of what came to him and he brought
يَاO مَنْone who تَجَمَّلَadorned himself بِالْحَرَامِwith the unlawful وَإِنَّمَاand only
يَا مَنْ تَجَمَّلَ بِالْحَرَامِ وَإِنَّمَا
قَدْرُthe worth الْفَتَىof a young man مَاwhat كَانَis تَحْتَbeneath إِهَابِهِhis skin
قَدْرُ الْفَتَى مَا كَانَ تَحْتَ إِهَابِهِ
O you who adorn yourself with the unlawful—yet
O one who beautified himself with the forbidden, indeed
A man's worth is only what lies beneath his skin.
The worth of a young man is what was under his turban
هَلاَّwhy not ذَكَرْتَyou remembered وَكَيْفَand how وَهْيَand it is فَضِيلَةٌa virtue
هَلاَّ ذَكَرْتَ وَكَيْفَ وَهْيَ فَضِيلَةٌ
مَاnot إِنْemphatic particle يَضُرُّharms الْعَضْبَthe keen sword لَوْنُthe color قِرَابِهِof its sheath
مَا إِنْ يَضُرُّ الْعَضْبَ لَوْنُ قِرَابِهِ
Why did you not recall—and how could you, when it is a virtue—
Why did you not remember how a virtue is
That the keen sword is not harmed by the color of its sheath?
That if virtuous does not harm the color of its jugular vein
Sol 6.1