سَلِask الدِيارَthe dwellings عنabout أهَيلِthe dear folk of نَجدNajd
سَلِ الدِيارَ عن أهَيلِ نَجد
إِنif كانَis تسآلُquestioning الدِيارِthe dwellings يُجديis useful
إِن كانَ تسآلُ الدِيارِ يُجدي
Ask the dwellings about the dear folk of Najd,
Ask the abodes about the people of Nejd,
If questioning the dwellings is of any use.
If asking the abodes avails,
وَقِفand stand بهاتيكbeside those الرُسومthe traces ساعةًa while
وَقِف بهاتيك الرُسوم ساعةً
لَعَلَّهperhaps it يُطفيquenches لَهيبَthe blaze وَجديmy longing
لَعَلَّه يُطفي لَهيبَ وَجدي
And stand a while beside those traces;
Stand awhile by these ruins,
Perhaps it will quench the blaze of my longing.
Haply it may quench the fires of my ardour.
منازِلٌdwellings قدalready حزتُI attained فيهاin them أَرَبيmy desire
منازِلٌ قد حزتُ فيها أَرَبي
وَنِلتُand I gained سؤليmy wish وَقَضيتُand I fulfilled وَعديmy promise
وَنِلتُ سؤلي وَقَضيتُ وَعدي
Dwellings where I attained my desire,
Abodes wherein I dwelt with my loved ones,
And gained my wish and fulfilled my promise.
And attained my wish and fulfilled my promise.
ماnot عنَّarose ليto me ذِكرُremembrance of زَمانٍa time قدalready مَضىpassed
ما عنَّ لي ذِكرُ زَمانٍ قد مَضى
بظلِّهاin their shade إِلّاexcept وَهاجَand flared up وَقديmy fire
بظلِّها إِلّا وَهاجَ وَقدي
No memory comes to me of a time gone by
No mention is made to me of a bygone age,
In their shade without my fire flaring up.
In their shades, but it kindles my fires anew.
أَصبوI yearn منfrom الهندIndia إِلىtoward نَجدٍNajd هَوىًout of love
أَصبو من الهند إِلى نَجدٍ هَوىً
وأَينَand where نَجدٌNajd منfrom ديارthe lands of الهِندِIndia
وأَينَ نَجدٌ من ديار الهِندِ
From India I yearn for Najd out of love—
I roamed from India to Nejd, smitten with love,
And how far Najd lies from the lands of India!
While Nejd is far from the land of India.
وألتقيand I meet كلَّevery رياحٍwinds خطرَتpassed by
وألتقي كلَّ رياحٍ خطرَت
أَحسَبُهاI take it to be لَيلاًat night نَسيمَthe breeze of نَجدِNajd
أَحسَبُها لَيلاً نَسيمَ نَجدِ
And I meet every wind that passes;
And I met every breeze that blew,
At night I take it for the breeze of Najd.
Deeming it at night the zephyr of Nejd.
آهِah منbecause of البَينparting المُشِتِّthat scatters وَالنَوىand distance
آهِ من البَين المُشِتِّ وَالنَوى
كَمhow many قرَّحاthey both made sore منof كبِدٍa liver وَخَدِّand a cheek
كَم قرَّحا من كبِدٍ وَخَدِّ
Ah, for parting that scatters us, and for distance!
Alas! The severity of parting and passion!
How many livers and cheeks they have made sore!
How they have ulcerated my liver and cheek!
فهلso do ترىyou think ينتَظِمُbe reunited الشَملُthe company الَّذيwhich
فهل ترى ينتَظِمُ الشَملُ الَّذي
قدalready نَثرتهُscattered it البينُparting نثرَthe scattering of العِقدِthe necklace
قد نَثرتهُ البينُ نثرَ العِقدِ
So do you think the company can be reunited—
Can the union, which separation has shattered like beads,
The company parting scattered like beads from a necklace?
Be cemented together again?
وَهَلand is there لأَيّامfor the days of الصِباyouth منany رَجعَةٍa return
وَهَل لأَيّام الصِبا من رَجعَةٍ
أَمor هَلis there لأَيّامfor the days of النَوىseparation منany بُعدِremoteness
أَم هَل لأَيّام النَوى من بُعدِ
And can the days of youth ever return?
Can the days of youth return,
Or can the days of separation ever recede?
Or the departed days of passion?
أَنوحُI lament ماwhenever ناحَlamented الحَمامُthe doves غُدوَةًat dawn
أَنوحُ ما ناحَ الحَمامُ غُدوَةً
هَيهاتَhow far apart ماnot قصدُthe purpose of الحَمامthe doves قَصديmy purpose
هَيهاتَ ما قصدُ الحَمام قَصدي
I lament whenever the doves lament at dawn;
I moan as the dove moans at dawn,
How far apart! The doves' purpose is not mine.
Vainly, for the dove's intent is not mine.
أَبكيI weep وَتَبكيand they weep لَوعةًin anguish وطَرَباًand in delight
أَبكي وَتَبكي لَوعةً وطَرَباً
وماand not بُكاءُthe weeping of الهزلِplay مِثلُlike الجدِّearnestness
وما بُكاءُ الهزلِ مِثلُ الجدِّ
I weep in anguish, and they weep in delight;
I weep in sadness and confusion,
And weeping in play is not like weeping in earnest.
Not like the tears of jest.
ظنَّتthey supposed حَماماتُthe doves of اللِوىal-Liwa عشيَّةًone evening
ظنَّت حَماماتُ اللِوى عشيَّةً
فيin الحُبِّlove أَنَّthat عندهاthey have ماwhat عِنديI have
في الحُبِّ أَنَّ عندها ما عِندي
One evening, the doves of al-Liwa supposed
The wild doves in the thicket thought at eve
That, in love, they had what I have.
That I possessed what they possessed of love.
تَلهوthey frolic عَلىon غُصونِهاtheir branches وَمُهجَتيand my heart
تَلهو عَلى غُصونِها وَمُهجَتي
تَصبوyearns إِلىfor تلكthose القُدودِthe figures المُلدِsupple
تَصبو إِلى تلك القُدودِ المُلدِ
They frolic on their branches, while my heart
They sport on its boughs while my heart
Yearns for those supple figures.
Yearns after those slender waists.
شَتّانَhow far apart ماwhat بينbetween جَوٍa lovesick person وَفَرِحٍand a joyful person
شَتّانَ ما بين جَوٍ وَفَرِحٍ
وَبينand between مُخفٍone concealing سِرَّهhis secret وَمُبدِand one revealing
وَبين مُخفٍ سِرَّه وَمُبدِ
How far apart are the lovesick and the joyful,
Great is the difference between joy and gaiety,
And one who hides his secret and one who reveals it!
And a secret anguish and hidden pain.
ماnot مَشرَبيmy drink صافٍclear وإِنand even if ساغit went down easily ولاnor
ما مَشرَبي صافٍ وإِن ساغ ولا
عيشيَmy life مِنfrom بَعدafter النَوىseparation برَغدِin ease
عيشيَ مِن بَعد النَوى برَغدِ
My drink is not clear, though it goes down smoothly, nor
My drink is pure though it tastes sweet,
Has my life been easy since separation.
Nor is my life happy after loss of love.
سلask أَدمُعيmy tears عَمّاabout what تُجنُّconceal أَضلُعيmy ribs
سل أَدمُعي عَمّا تُجنُّ أَضلُعي
فالقَلبُfor the heart يُخفيconceals والدُموعand the tears تُبديreveal
فالقَلبُ يُخفي والدُموع تُبدي
Ask my tears about what my ribs conceal;
Ask my tears what my ribs conceal,
For the heart conceals, and tears reveal.
For the heart hides while the tears reveal.
كمhow often أَنشدُI recite to الرَوضَthe garden إذاwhen هبِّتblew صباًan east wind
كم أَنشدُ الرَوضَ إذا هبِّت صباً
تنبَّهيawaken ياO عذباتِbranch-tips of الرَندِthe laurel
تنبَّهي يا عذباتِ الرَندِ
How often I recite to the garden when an east wind blows:
How oft I recite verse when the zephyr blows,
Awake, O laurel sprigs!
Awaken, O languid ones of Nejd!
Sol 6.1