لِمَنْ طَلَلٌ دَاثِرٌ آيُهُ

لِمَنْ طَلَلٌ دَاثِرٌ آيُهُ

تَقادَمَ في سَالِفِ الأحْرُسِ

تَقادَمَ في سَالِفِ الأحْرُسِ

Whose is this ruined campsite, its traces effaced,

For whom are those ruins, their glory long gone,

grown old through ages long past?

That have weathered through ages now past?

فَإمّا تَرَيْنيَ بي عُرّةٌ

فَإمّا تَرَيْنيَ بي عُرّةٌ

كَأني نَكِيبٌ مِنَ النِّقْرِسِ

كَأني نَكِيبٌ مِنَ النِّقْرِسِ

So if you see me with a skin affliction,

You may see me clad in tattered robes,

as though I were stricken with gout,

As one bowed under fate’s heavy cast.

وَصَيّرَني القَرْحُ في جُبّةٍ

وَصَيّرَني القَرْحُ في جُبّةٍ

تُخَالُ لَبِيساً وَلَمْ تُلْبَسِ

تُخَالُ لَبِيساً وَلَمْ تُلْبَسِ

and sores have clad me in a robe

My wounds have dressed me in a cloak

that seems worn-out, though never worn,

That seems to be worn but is not mine.

تَرَى أثَرَ القَرْحِ في جِلْدِهِ

تَرَى أثَرَ القَرْحِ في جِلْدِهِ

كَنَقشِ الخَواتِمِ في الجِرْجِسِ

كَنَقشِ الخَواتِمِ في الجِرْجِسِ

you see the marks of sores upon his skin,

You can see the scars borne on my skin

like the impressions of signet rings in wax.

Like engravings on ancient design.