ظَنَنْتُI thought أَنَّthat النَّوَىseparation تُخَفِّفlessens مِنْfrom
ظَنَنْتُ أَنَّ النَّوَى تُخَفِّف مِنْ
وَجْدِيmy longing قَلِيلاًa little فَزَادَso it increased مَاwhat أَجِدُI feel
وَجْدِي قَلِيلاً فَزَادَ مَا أَجِدُ
I thought separation would lessen
I thought yearning would lessen my anguish a little, but it only increased what I feel
my longing a little, but what I feel only grew.
O comfort of the soul, he who is parted from you, what comfort can he find?
يَاO رَاحَةَsolace الرُّوحِthe soul مَنْone who تُفَارِقُهُforsakes him
يَا رَاحَةَ الرُّوحِ مَنْ تُفَارِقُهُ
رَاحَتُهُhis solace أَيَّwhat غُنْيَةٍa sufficient substitute يَجِدُhe finds
رَاحَتُهُ أَيَّ غُنْيَةٍ يَجِدُ
O solace of the soul, one who is forsaken
What can I do about a love that enchains me? Is there any escape when my heart is fettered?
by his solace—what substitute can he find?
If I disobey His commands one day, my repentance to Him is guaranteed tomorrow
مَاwhat حِيلَتِيmy recourse فِيin هَوىًpassionate love يَصَفِّدُنِيfetters me
مَا حِيلَتِي فِي هَوىً يَصَفِّدُنِي
هَلْis there مِنْany نَجَاةٍescape وَقَلْبِيَwhile my heart الصَّفدُthe fetter
هَلْ مِنْ نَجَاةٍ وَقَلْبِيَ الصَّفدُ
What remedy have I for a love that fetters me?
O cupbearer, pass around the cups amongst the companions, let them sparkle
Is there any escape, when my heart itself is the fetter?
And o companions, drink your pleasures in uncountable draughts
إِذَاif عَصَىdisobeyed بِيَthrough me يَوْمِيmy day أَوَامِرَهُhis commands
إِذَا عَصَى بِيَ يَوْمِي أَوَامِرَهُ
فَكَافِلٌthen a guarantor تَوْبَتِيmy repentance إِلَيْهِto him غَدُtomorrow
فَكَافِلٌ تَوْبَتِي إِلَيْهِ غَدُ
If my day, through me, disobeys his commands,
For I relish your enjoyment, my thirstiest organ being my liver
then tomorrow guarantees my repentance to him.
I have returned to Him who holds my soul, though I will not taste it, for loyalty is what I promise
أَيْO سَاقِيَcupbearer الرَّاحِwine أَجْرِهَاlet it flow وَأَدِرْand pass around
أَيْ سَاقِيَ الرَّاحِ أَجْرِهَا وَأَدِرْ
عَلَىamong الرِّفَاقِthe companions الأَقْدَاحَthe cups تَتَّقدُare ablaze
عَلَى الرِّفَاقِ الأَقْدَاحَ تَتَّقدُ
O wine-bearer, let it flow, and pass around
And I promised I would yearn to see a group suffering from thirst like me, if they ever come to water
the blazing cups among the companions.
They said the madness of the epileptics lies in their desires, but it is reason for those who yearn and keep away
وَيَاand O رِفَاقُcompanions اشْرَبُواdrink نُخُوبَكمُyour toasts
وَيَا رِفَاقُ اشْرَبُوا نُخُوبَكمُ
شُرْباًdrinking دِرَاكاًin rapid succession لاَnot يُحْصِهَاcounts them عَدَدُa number
شُرْباً دِرَاكاً لاَ يُحْصِهَا عَدَدُ
And, companions, drink your toasts,
That is reason, but it is ignorance when the body weakens and the skin stretches thin
in draughts in swift succession, beyond all counting.
O my friends, life is all regret over what is missed, and all misery
فَإِنَّنيfor indeed I أَنْتَشِيbecome intoxicated بِنَشْوَتِكُمْwith your intoxication
فَإِنَّني أَنْتَشِي بِنَشْوَتِكُمْ
أَظْمَأَthirstiest مَاthat بَاتَspent the night مِنِّيof me الكَبِدُthe liver
أَظْمَأَ مَا بَاتَ مِنِّي الكَبِدُ
For I grow drunk on your drunkenness,
So drown your preoccupations in the night, for its darkness will not save them from dissipation
while my liver passes the night thirstier than ever.
Oh, how excellent is the setback of worries when the cup foams with a wave that expels them
وَعَدْتُI promised مَنْthe one who فِيin يَدَيْهِhis two hands رُوْحِيَmy soul لاَnot
وَعَدْتُ مَنْ فِي يَدَيْهِ رُوْحِيَ لاَ
أَذُوقُهَاI taste it والْوَفَاءُand keeping faith مَاwhat أَعِدُI promise
أَذُوقُهَا والْوَفَاءُ مَا أَعِدُ
I promised the one in whose hands my soul lies: I would not
It is a cup, the sea overflowing with joy, while the cupbearers of sorrow walk in chains
taste it; and keeping faith is what I promise.
With what words can I explain my darkness which startles me amidst the groves?
وَعُدْتُand I returned أَشْتَاقُI yearn أَنْto أَرَىI see زُمَراًgroups
وَعُدْتُ أَشْتَاقُ أَنْ أَرَى زُمَراً
تَعُبُّهاgulp it كَالْعِطَاشِlike the thirsty إِنْwhen وَرَدُواthey reach water
تَعُبُّها كَالْعِطَاشِ إِنْ وَرَدُوا
And again I yearned to see groups
I seek eloquence for what troubles me, but I have no skill in making it clear
gulping it like the thirsty when they come to water.
I have a youthful folly and ingratitude is its nature. Woe to the hearts from the evil they beget!
قَالُواthey said جُنُونُmadness الصَّرْعَىthose laid low بِشَهْوَتِهِمْby their desire
قَالُوا جُنُونُ الصَّرْعَى بِشَهْوَتِهِمْ
عَقْلٌwisdom لِمَنْfor one who يَشْتَهِيdesires وَيَبْتَعِدُand keeps away
عَقْلٌ لِمَنْ يَشْتَهِي وَيَبْتَعِدُ
They said: the madness of those felled by their desire
If my heart intended to destroy it in anger, it advised me that life does not last
is wisdom for one who desires yet keeps away.
ذَلِكَthat عَقْلٌwisdom لَكِنَّهbut it is سَفَهٌfolly
ذَلِكَ عَقْلٌ لَكِنَّه سَفَهٌ
إِذَاwhen وَهَىweakened الجِسْمُthe body وَانْتَهَىand ended الجَلَدُendurance
إِذَا وَهَى الجِسْمُ وَانْتَهَى الجَلَدُ
That is wisdom, yet it is folly
when the body weakens and endurance runs out.
يَاO صَحْبِيَmy companions العُمْرُlife كُلُّهُall of it أَسَفٌregret
يَا صَحْبِيَ العُمْرُ كُلُّهُ أَسَفٌ
عَلَىover فَوَاتٍwhat was missed وَكُلُّهُand all of it نَكَدُmisery
عَلَى فَوَاتٍ وَكُلُّهُ نَكَدُ
O my companions, all of life is regret
for what has slipped away, and all of it is misery.
فَغَرِّقُواso drown فِيin الطِّلاَwine شَوَاغِلَكُمْyour cares
فَغَرِّقُوا فِي الطِّلاَ شَوَاغِلَكُمْ
لاَlet not يُنْجِهَاrescue them مِنْfrom ثُبُورِهَاtheir doom مَدَدُaid
لاَ يُنْجِهَا مِنْ ثُبُورِهَا مَدَدُ
So drown your cares in wine;
let no aid rescue them from their doom.
يَاah حَبَّذَاhow welcome نَكْبَةُdownfall الهُمُومِcares وَقَدْand already
يَا حَبَّذَا نَكْبَةُ الهُمُومِ وَقَدْ
حُفَّتhave been encircled بِمَوْجٍby waves فِيin الكَأْسِthe cup يَطَّرِدُflows continuously
حُفَّت بِمَوْجٍ فِي الكَأْسِ يَطَّرِدُ
Ah, how welcome the downfall of cares, now that they
have been ringed by waves flowing ceaselessly in the cup!
كَأْسٌa cup هِيَit الْبَحْرُthe sea بِالسُّرُورِwith joy طَغَىoverflowed
كَأْسٌ هِيَ الْبَحْرُ بِالسُّرُورِ طَغَى
وَجَارِيَاتُand the ships الأَسَىsorrow بِهِin it قِدَدُshreds
وَجَارِيَاتُ الأَسَى بِهِ قِدَدُ
A cup—it is the sea, overflowing with joy,
and the ships of sorrow within it are in shreds.
بِأَيِّwith what لَفظٍword أَبُثُّI voice مَظْلَمَتِيmy grievance
بِأَيِّ لَفظٍ أَبُثُّ مَظْلَمَتِي
يَرَاعَتِيmy reed pen فِيin البَنَانِthe fingertips تَرْتَعِدُtrembles
يَرَاعَتِي فِي البَنَانِ تَرْتَعِدُ
With what words can I voice my grievance?
My reed pen trembles in my fingers.
أَبْغِيI seek بَيَاناًexpression لِمَاfor what يُخَامِرُنِيpervades me
أَبْغِي بَيَاناً لِمَا يُخَامِرُنِي
مِنْهَاfrom it وَمَالِيand I have no فِيin أَنْto أُبِينَI make clear يَدُpower
مِنْهَا وَمَالِي فِي أَنْ أُبِينَ يَدُ
I seek expression for what pervades me
from it, yet I have no power to make it plain.
بِيwithin me صَبْوَةٌa passionate yearning وَالعُقُوقُand filial ingratitude شِيمَتُهَاits nature
بِي صَبْوَةٌ وَالعُقُوقُ شِيمَتُهَا
وَيْحَalas for قُلُوبٍhearts مِنْfrom شَرِّevil مَاwhat تَلِدُthey give birth to
وَيْحَ قُلُوبٍ مِنْ شَرِّ مَا تَلِدُ
I harbor a passion, and filial ingratitude is its nature;
alas for hearts, for the evil of what they bear!
إِنْif هَمَّresolved قَلْبيmy heart بوَأْدِهَاby burying it alive حَنِقاًin anger
إِنْ هَمَّ قَلْبي بوَأْدِهَا حَنِقاً
نَهَاهُrestrained it أَنَّthat الحَيَاةَlife مَاwhat يَئِدُit buries alive
نَهَاهُ أَنَّ الحَيَاةَ مَا يَئِدُ
If my heart, in anger, resolves to bury it alive,
the thought that it would be burying life holds it back.
Partial English translation: 19 of 38 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1