لِمَنwhose طَلَلٌa ruined campsite أَبصَرتُهُI saw it فَشَجانيso it saddened me
لِمَن طَلَلٌ أَبصَرتُهُ فَشَجاني
كَخَطِّlike the script of زَبورٍa written book فيon عَسيبِa palm stalk يَمانِYemeni
كَخَطِّ زَبورٍ في عَسيبِ يَمانِ
Whose are the ruins I saw, which stirred my grief,
For whom is a ruin I saw that made me yearn
Like a book's script on a Yemeni palm stalk?
Like the stroke of a bee in the valley of Yemen’s streams
دِيارٌdwellings لِهِندٍbelonging to Hind وَالرَبابِand al-Rabab وَفَرتَنيand Fartana
دِيارٌ لِهِندٍ وَالرَبابِ وَفَرتَني
لَيالِيَناour nights بِالنَعفِon the slope مِنof بَدَلانِBadalan
لَيالِيَنا بِالنَعفِ مِن بَدَلانِ
The dwellings of Hind, al-Rabab, and Fartana,
A land of music, the rebec's wail turned me aside
In our nights on the slope of Badalan—
Our nights with the flute of changes from the rain clouds
لَيالِيَnights when يَدعونيcalls me الهَوىdesire فَأُجيبَهُso I answer it
لَيالِيَ يَدعوني الهَوى فَأُجيبَهُ
وَأَعيُنُand the eyes مَنthe one whom أَهوىI love إِلَيَّtoward me رَوانيgazing
وَأَعيُنُ مَن أَهوى إِلَيَّ رَواني
Nights when desire called me and I answered it,
Nights whose passion calls me and I respond
And the eyes of the one I loved gazed toward me.
And the eyes of her I love turn to me in comfort
فَإِنso if أُمسِI reach evening مَكروباًdistressed فَياthen oh رُبَّmany a بَهمَةٍdire ordeal
فَإِن أُمسِ مَكروباً فَيا رُبَّ بَهمَةٍ
كَشَفتُI dispelled إِذاwhen ماever (emphatic) اِسوَدَّgrew dark وَجهُthe face of جَبانِa coward
كَشَفتُ إِذا ما اِسوَدَّ وَجهُ جَبانِ
So if evening finds me distressed—ah, how many a dire ordeal
So if I spend a day in sorrow, oh Lord of glorious splendor
I have dispelled when a coward's face grew dark!
I dispel it when the dark face of misfortune frowns
وَإِنand if أُمسِI reach evening مَكروباًdistressed فَياthen oh رُبَّmany a قَينَةٍsinging-girl
وَإِن أُمسِ مَكروباً فَيا رُبَّ قَينَةٍ
مُنَعَّمَةٍpampered أَعمَلتُهاI set her to work بِكِرانِwith a lute
مُنَعَّمَةٍ أَعمَلتُها بِكِرانِ
And if evening finds me distressed—ah, how many a singing-girl,
And if I spend a day in sorrow, oh Lord of a docile she-camel
Pampered, I have set to playing a lute!
Whose saddle I fitted out with fringes
لَهاshe has مِزهَرٌa lute يَعلوrises above الخَميسَthe army بِصَوتِهِwith its voice
لَها مِزهَرٌ يَعلو الخَميسَ بِصَوتِهِ
أَجَشُّhusky-voiced إِذاwhen ماever (emphatic) حَرَّكَتهُset it moving اليَدانِthe two hands
أَجَشُّ إِذا ما حَرَّكَتهُ اليَدانِ
She has a lute whose voice rises above an army,
She has a warbling voice that rises over the camel-litter on Thursday
Husky when the two hands set it vibrating.
More plaintive when you excite her with your hands
وَإِنand if أُمسِI reach evening مَكروباًdistressed فَياthen oh رُبَّmany a غارَةٍraid
وَإِن أُمسِ مَكروباً فَيا رُبَّ غارَةٍ
شَهِدتُI took part عَلىupon أَقَبِّa lean-bellied horse رَخوِsupple of اللَبانِthe breast
شَهِدتُ عَلى أَقَبِّ رَخوِ اللَبانِ
And if evening finds me distressed—ah, how many a raid
And if I spend a day in sorrow, oh Lord of a cave I frequented
I have joined on a lean-bellied, supple-chested horse,
Witness to the bending neck of the pliant sand-dune
عَلىupon رَبَذٍa swift horse يَزدادُincreases عَفواًwithout urging إِذاwhen جَرىhe runs
عَلى رَبَذٍ يَزدادُ عَفواً إِذا جَرى
مِسَحٍّswift-running حَثيثِrapid in الرَكضِgalloping وَالزَأَلانِand brisk trotting
مِسَحٍّ حَثيثِ الرَكضِ وَالزَأَلانِ
On a swift one, gaining speed unbidden as he runs,
On a smooth floor increasingly sleek when you pour on it
Fleet-footed, swift in galloping and brisk trotting.
Copious ablution water rushing wildly down
وَيَخديand he runs swiftly عَلىon صُمٍّsolid صِلابٍhard مَلاطِسٍhammer-like
وَيَخدي عَلى صُمٍّ صِلابٍ مَلاطِسٍ
شَديداتِstrong in عَقدٍjoints لَيِّناتِsupple in مَتانِsinews
شَديداتِ عَقدٍ لَيِّناتِ مَتانِ
And he races on solid, hard, hammer-like hooves,
It rides upon deaf boulders cemented stout
Firm in their joints, supple in their sinews.
With strong noded ropes all flexibly intertwined
وَغَيثٍand a rain-fed pasture مِنَfrom الوَسمِيِّthe first autumn rains حُوٍّdark green تِلاعُهُits gullies
وَغَيثٍ مِنَ الوَسمِيِّ حُوٍّ تِلاعُهُ
تَبَطَّنتُهُI traversed its heart بِشيظَمٍon a tall horse صَلِتانِvigorous and swift
تَبَطَّنتُهُ بِشيظَمٍ صَلِتانِ
And many a pasture fed by autumn's first rains, its gullies dark green,
And rain from storm clouds hotly recoiling
I have ridden through its heart on a tall, vigorous steed,
Whose drizzle I take cover from with a robe of Yemeni broadcloth
مِكَرٍّever charging مِفَرٍّever retreating مُقبِلٍadvancing مُدبِرٍwithdrawing مَعاًall at once
مِكَرٍّ مِفَرٍّ مُقبِلٍ مُدبِرٍ مَعاً
كَتَيسِlike a buck of ظِباءِgazelles الحُلَّبِhullab (a grazing plant) الغَذَوانِfleet-footed
كَتَيسِ ظِباءِ الحُلَّبِ الغَذَوانِ
Charging, retreating, advancing, withdrawing—all at once,
Retreating, advancing, wheeling round together
Like the fleet buck of the hullab-grazing gazelles.
Like a white wild cow with horns tossing high
إِذاwhen ماever (emphatic) جَنَبناهُwe led him alongside تَأَوَّدَswayed مَتنُهُhis back
إِذا ما جَنَبناهُ تَأَوَّدَ مَتنُهُ
كَعِرقِlike a root of الرُخامىrukhama (a supple plant) اِهتَزَّtrembled فيin الهَطَلانِthe downpour
كَعِرقِ الرُخامى اِهتَزَّ في الهَطَلانِ
When we led him beside us, his back swayed,
When we startle it, its flank quivers
Like a rukhama root trembling in the downpour.
Like marble veins shuddering from the pouring rain
تَمَتَّعenjoy مِنَfrom الدُنياthis world فَإِنَّكَfor you are فانيmortal
تَمَتَّع مِنَ الدُنيا فَإِنَّكَ فاني
مِنَfrom النَشَواتِwine's exhilarations وَالنِساءِand women الحِسانِbeautiful
مِنَ النَشَواتِ وَالنِساءِ الحِسانِ
Take pleasure in this world, for you are mortal—
Take your pleasure in life, for you will pass away
In wine's exhilarations and beautiful women,
From delights and beautiful women
مِنَfrom البيضِfair-skinned women كَالآرامِlike white antelopes وَالأُدمِand dusky women كَالدُمىlike figurines
مِنَ البيضِ كَالآرامِ وَالأُدمِ كَالدُمى
حَواصِنُهاthe chaste among them وَالمُبرِقاتِand the dazzling women الرَوانيthe gazing ones
حَواصِنُها وَالمُبرِقاتِ الرَواني
In fair-skinned women like white antelopes, and dusky ones like figurines,
In white like the Aramis, in red like the ruddy
The chaste among them, and the dazzling ones who gaze.
Their breasts an enclosure, their waists so slender
أَمِنis it from ذِكرِremembering نَبهانِيَّةٍa woman of Nabhan حَلَّsettled أَهلُهاher people
أَمِن ذِكرِ نَبهانِيَّةٍ حَلَّ أَهلُها
بِجِزعِat the valley bend of المَلاal-Mala عَيناكَyour two eyes تَبتَدِرانِrace to shed tears
بِجِزعِ المَلا عَيناكَ تَبتَدِرانِ
Is it from remembering a woman of Nabhan, whose people settled
Does the memory of Nabhaniyyah move you? Its people
At the valley bend of al-Mala, that your two eyes race to weep?
Wept copiously, your eyes begin to weep
فَدَمعُهُماso their tears سَكبٌa flood وَسَحٌّand a torrent وَدَيمَةٌand steady rain
فَدَمعُهُما سَكبٌ وَسَحٌّ وَدَيمَةٌ
وَرَشٌّand spray وَتَوكافٌand dripping وَتَنهَمِلانِand both stream
وَرَشٌّ وَتَوكافٌ وَتَنهَمِلانِ
So their tears are a flood, a torrent, a steady rain,
Their tears a downpour, a torrent, an outpouring
And spray, and dripping—and both eyes stream.
A sprinkle, a shedding, a welling up
كَأَنَّهُماas though the two were مَزادَتاtwo waterskins of مُتَعَجِّلٍa hasty man
كَأَنَّهُما مَزادَتا مُتَعَجِّلٍ
فَرِيّانِboth freshly cut لَمّاnot yet تُسلَقاhave been boiled بِدِهانِwith oil
فَرِيّانِ لَمّا تُسلَقا بِدِهانِ
As though they were a hasty man's two waterskins,
As if competing to hasten from their source
Freshly cut, not yet boiled with oil.
When boiled out from their pupils by emotion
Sol 6.1