عَرْشُthe throne of العُلاَglory مُنْهَدِمٌcrumbled مُؤْتَفِكْoverturned
عَرْشُ العُلاَ مُنْهَدِمٌ مُؤْتَفِكْ
مُذْsince جَاوَرَdwelt beside الأَجْدَاثَthe graves عَبْدُAbd (servant) المَلِكْal-Malik (the King)
مُذْ جَاوَرَ الأَجْدَاثَ عَبْدُ المَلِكْ
The throne of glory has crumbled, overturned,
Since Abd al-Malik came to dwell among the graves.
هَاتِيْكَthere is شِمْسُthe sun of المَجْدِglory مَكْسُوفَةٌeclipsed
هَاتِيْكَ شِمْسُ المَجْدِ مَكْسُوفَةٌ
وَإِِنَّمَاthough only تُكْسَفُis eclipsed شَمْسُthe sun of الفَلَكْthe firmament
وَإِِنَّمَا تُكْسَفُ شَمْسُ الفَلَكْ
There is the sun of glory, eclipsed,
Though only the sun of heaven suffers eclipse.
مَاnot هِيَit عَيْنٌan eye سَفَكَتْspilled مَاءَهَاits water
مَا هِيَ عَيْنٌ سَفَكَتْ مَاءَهَا
عَلَيْهِover him بَلْrather أَرْوَاحُنَاour souls تَنْسَفِكْspill out
عَلَيْهِ بَلْ أَرْوَاحُنَا تَنْسَفِكْ
It is no eye that has spilled its water
Over him; rather, our souls are spilling out.
كَأَنَّنَاas though we إِذْwhen رَاعَنَاterrified us هُلْكُهُhis death
كَأَنَّنَا إِذْ رَاعَنَا هُلْكُهُ
لَمْnot تَرَyou saw مَخْلُوقَاًa creature سِوَاهُother than him هَلَكْperished
لَمْ تَرَ مَخْلُوقَاً سِوَاهُ هَلَكْ
As though, when his death struck us with dread,
No creature but him had ever been seen to die.
حِيْنَwhen تَثَنَّىswayed لِلْنَّدَىtoward generosity غُصْنُهُhis bough
حِيْنَ تَثَنَّى لِلْنَّدَى غُصْنُهُ
وَانْتَظَمَand became ordered الأَمْرُthe affairs لَهُfor him وَاحْتَنَكْand became firmly established
وَانْتَظَمَ الأَمْرُ لَهُ وَاحْتَنَكْ
When his bough swayed toward generosity,
And his affairs fell into order and grew firm,
وَاهْتَزَّand swayed كَالسَّيْفِlike a sword وَأَرْبِيand rose higher عَلَىthan الthe
وَاهْتَزَّ كَالسَّيْفِ وَأَرْبِي عَلَى ال
أَقْرَانِpeers فِيin المَحْفِلِthe assembly والمُعْتَرَكْand the battlefield
أَقْرَانِ فِي المَحْفِلِ والمُعْتَرَكْ
And he swayed like a sword and rose above the
Peers in the assembly and the battlefield,
وَبَانَand stood apart عَنْfrom أَكْفَائِهِhis equals مُفْرَدَاًsingled out
وَبَانَ عَنْ أَكْفَائِهِ مُفْرَدَاً
بِالْحَمْدِfor praise فِيin إِحْسَانِهِhis beneficence المُشْتَرَكْshared by all
بِالْحَمْدِ فِي إِحْسَانِهِ المُشْتَرَكْ
And stood apart from his equals, singled out
For praise for the beneficence he shared with all,
وَآضَand became رُكْنَاًa pillar لِبَنِيfor the sons of هَاشِمٍHashim
وَآضَ رُكْنَاً لِبَنِي هَاشِمٍ
وَصَارِمَاًand a keen sword إِنْif مَسَّit touched شَيْئِاًanything بَتَكْit severed
وَصَارِمَاً إِنْ مَسَّ شَيْئِاً بَتَكْ
And became a pillar for the sons of Hashim,
And a keen blade that severed whatever it touched,
وَصَارَand became لِلنُّبْلِthrough nobility إِذَاwhen مَاemphatic particle بَدَاhe appeared
وَصَارَ لِلنُّبْلِ إِذَا مَا بَدَا
قِيْلَit was said أَهَذَاis this بَشَرٌa human أَمْor مَلَكْan angel
قِيْلَ أَهَذَا بَشَرٌ أَمْ مَلَكْ
And such was his nobility that, whenever he appeared,
It was said: Is this a human or an angel?
وَالَand [said; text uncertain] مَوْلاَهُhis patron وَأَعْدَاؤُهُand his enemies
وَالَ مَوْلاَهُ وَأَعْدَاؤُهُ
تَبَارَكَblessed be الرَّحْمَنُthe All-Merciful مَاhow أَكَمْلَكْperfect you are
تَبَارَكَ الرَّحْمَنُ مَا أَكَمْلَكْ
And his patron and his enemies alike [said]:
Blessed be the All-Merciful! How perfect you are!
رَاحَcame عَلَيْهِupon him لِلرَّدَىfor death رَائِحٌa passing traveler
رَاحَ عَلَيْهِ لِلرَّدَى رَائِحٌ
وَكُلُّand every حَيٍّliving being سَالِكٌwill tread مَاwhat سَلَكْhe trod
وَكُلُّ حَيٍّ سَالِكٌ مَا سَلَكْ
A visitant of death came upon him,
And every living being follows the path he took.
يَاO جَبَلاًmountain أَرْسِىwas set firmly عَلَىupon نَعْشِهِhis bier
يَا جَبَلاً أَرْسِى عَلَى نَعْشِهِ
كَيْفَhow أَطَاقَwas able النَّعْشُthe bier أَنْto يَحْمِلَكْcarry you
كَيْفَ أَطَاقَ النَّعْشُ أَنْ يَحْمِلَكْ
O mountain set upon his bier,
How did the bier find strength to carry you?
وَشَامِلَand one encompassing الآمَالِall hopes مِنْfrom بَعْدِهِafter him
وَشَامِلَ الآمَالِ مِنْ بَعْدِهِ
بَتَّكَcut short عُمْرِيmy life عُمْرُكَyour life المُنْبَتِكْcut short
بَتَّكَ عُمْرِي عُمْرُكَ المُنْبَتِكْ
And you who embraced all hopes—after his passing,
Your life, cut short, has cut short mine.
أَبْكِيْهِI mourn him لِلخَصْمِfor facing the foe إِذَاwhen ماemphatic particle احْتَبَىhe sat with knees drawn up
أَبْكِيْهِ لِلخَصْمِ إِذَا ما احْتَبَى
لِحُجَّةٍto make a case فِيin مَجْلِسٍan assembly أَوْor بَرَكْknelt
لِحُجَّةٍ فِي مَجْلِسٍ أَوْ بَرَكْ
I mourn him for facing the foe, when he sat with knees drawn up
To make his case in an assembly, or knelt.
أَبْكِيْهِI mourn him لِلأدَابِfor letters بَلْrather لِلْنُّهَىfor wisdom
أَبْكِيْهِ لِلأدَابِ بَلْ لِلْنُّهَى
بَلْrather لاِجْتِلاَءِfor clearly discerning الحَقِّthe truth فِيon يَوْمِa day of شَكْdoubt
بَلْ لاِجْتِلاَءِ الحَقِّ فِي يَوْمِ شَكْ
I mourn him for letters—rather, for wisdom,
Rather, for discerning truth on a day of doubt.
أَبْكِيْهِI mourn him لاnot لِلْكَأسِfor the winecup بَلْrather لِلْنَّدَىfor generosity
أَبْكِيْهِ لا لِلْكَأسِ بَلْ لِلْنَّدَى
وَالْبَاسِand valor وَالْفَتْكِand deadly force إِذَاwhen مَاemphatic particle فَتَكْhe struck lethally
وَالْبَاسِ وَالْفَتْكِ إِذَا مَا فَتَكْ
I mourn him not for the winecup, but for generosity,
And valor, and deadly force whenever he struck.
أَبْكِيْهِI mourn him لِلشَّمْلِfor the company الشَّتِيْتِscattered الَّذِيwhose
أَبْكِيْهِ لِلشَّمْلِ الشَّتِيْتِ الَّذِي
حَرِيْمُهُits sanctuary مِنْfrom بَعْدِهِafter him مُنْهَتِكْviolated
حَرِيْمُهُ مِنْ بَعْدِهِ مُنْهَتِكْ
I mourn him for the scattered company whose
Sanctuary, since his passing, lies violated.
أَبْكِيI mourn فَتًىa youth تَبْكِيweeps لِفِقْدَانِهِfor his loss الغَbeginning of 'the dust-colored earth'
أَبْكِي فَتًى تَبْكِي لِفِقْدَانِهِ الغَ
بْرَاءُcompletion of 'the dust-colored earth' وَالخَضَرَاءُand the green heaven ذَاتُpossessing الحُبُكْwoven paths
بْرَاءُ وَالخَضَرَاءُ ذَاتُ الحُبُكْ
I mourn a youth whose loss is mourned by the dust-
Colored earth and the green heaven with its woven paths.
أَبْكِيI mourn كَرِيْمَاًa generous man لَوْif رُزِيwere bereaved مِثْلُهُone like him
أَبْكِي كَرِيْمَاً لَوْ رُزِي مِثْلُهُ
ثُمَّthen رَأَىhe saw طَلْعَةَthe face of ضَيْفٍa guest ضَحِكْhe smiled
ثُمَّ رَأَى طَلْعَةَ ضَيْفٍ ضَحِكْ
I mourn a generous man whose like, if bereaved,
Would smile if he then saw a guest's face.
نَادِبَهُyou who mourn him قُلْsay فِيْهِabout him مَاwhatever شِئْتَyou wish لَنْwill not
نَادِبَهُ قُلْ فِيْهِ مَا شِئْتَ لَنْ
يَجْحَدَكَdeny you القَالِيthe hater وَلَنْand will not يَكْذَبَكْbelie you
يَجْحَدَكَ القَالِي وَلَنْ يَكْذَبَكْ
You who mourn him, say of him what you wish; no
Hater will deny you or call you false.
يَاO سَاكِنَstill of الأَطْرَافِlimbs أَيْنَwhere الَّذِيthat which
يَا سَاكِنَ الأَطْرَافِ أَيْنَ الَّذِي
أَعْهَدُهُI knew it مِنْof حُسْنِthe beauty of ذَاكَthat الحَرَكْmovement
أَعْهَدُهُ مِنْ حُسْنِ ذَاكَ الحَرَكْ
O you whose limbs lie still, where is what
I once knew of the grace of that movement?
يَاO لاَبِسَwearer of الأَكْفَانِshrouds قُلْsay لِيto me لِمَنْfor whom
يَا لاَبِسَ الأَكْفَانِ قُلْ لِي لِمَنْ
تَرَكْتَyou left مِنْfrom بَعْدِكَafter you لُبْسَthe wearing of الشِّكَكْarmor
تَرَكْتَ مِنْ بَعْدِكَ لُبْسَ الشِّكَكْ
O wearer of shrouds, tell me: for whom
Have you left the wearing of armor after your passing?
وَيَاand O هِلاَلاًcrescent مَحَقَتْeffaced نُورَهُits light
وَيَا هِلاَلاً مَحَقَتْ نُورَهُ
أَيْدِيthe hands of الْبِلَىdecay مَاhow أَوْحَشَdesolate is الْمَجْدَglory لَكْfor you
أَيْدِي الْبِلَى مَا أَوْحَشَ الْمَجْدَ لَكْ
And O crescent whose light has been effaced
By the hands of decay—how desolate glory is without you!
زَهِدْتَyou grew indifferent فِيto الْعَيْشِlife وَقَبَّحْتَهُand made it ugly
زَهِدْتَ فِي الْعَيْشِ وَقَبَّحْتَهُ
عِنْدِيin my eyes فَمَاso there is no فِيin العَيْشِlife لِيfor me مِنْany دَرَكْattainment
عِنْدِي فَمَا فِي العَيْشِ لِي مِنْ دَرَكْ
You renounced life and made it ugly
In my eyes; so there is nothing for me to gain in life.
Sol 6.1