يَاO مَنْyou who شَهَدْنَاwe have testified أَنَّهthat he is كَاتِبٌa writer
يَا مَنْ شَهَدْنَا أَنَّه كَاتِبٌ
لَهُhis is المَكَانُthe standing الأَدَبِيُّliterary الرَّفِيعْlofty
لَهُ المَكَانُ الأَدَبِيُّ الرَّفِيعْ
O you whom we have acknowledged as a writer,
Whose literary standing is exalted:
لَمْdid not تَقْرِضِyou compose الشَّعرِpoetry قَدِيماًformerly فَهَلْso did…?
لَمْ تَقْرِضِ الشَّعرِ قَدِيماً فَهَلْ
وَاتَاكَcame readily to you عَفْواًspontaneously سَهْلُهُits easy parts وَالَمنِيعْand the difficult ones
وَاتَاكَ عَفْواً سَهْلُهُ وَالَمنِيعْ
You had not composed verse before—did
Its easy and its difficult strains come to you unbidden?
أَعْجَبْmarvel بِمَاat what أَوْحَىinspired إِلَيْكَto you الْهَوَىlove
أَعْجَبْ بِمَا أَوْحَى إِلَيْكَ الْهَوَى
مِنْof نَغَمٍmelody مُشْبَحٍplaintive (uncertain reading) وَبَثٍّand an outpouring وَجِيعْanguished
مِنْ نَغَمٍ مُشْبَحٍ وَبَثٍّ وَجِيعْ
Marvel at what love has inspired in you:
Of plaintive melody and anguished lament.
سَجْعُكَyour rhyming لمْwas not يُلْهَمْinspired with أَفَانِينَهُits varied arts
سَجْعُكَ لمْ يُلْهَمْ أَفَانِينَهُ
صَادِحُa songbird أَيْكٍa grove فِيat وَدَاعِthe farewell to الرَّبِيعْspring
صَادِحُ أَيْكٍ فِي وَدَاعِ الرَّبِيعْ
The varied strains of your rhymes were never inspired in
A grove's songbird bidding farewell to spring.
كَانَتْshe was رَبِيعاًa springtime لَكَfor you تِلْكَshe الَّتِيwho
كَانَتْ رَبِيعاً لَكَ تِلْكَ الَّتِي
تَبْكِيyou mourn نَوَاهَاseparation from her بِحَرَارِwith burning الدُّمُوعْtears
تَبْكِي نَوَاهَا بِحَرَارِ الدُّمُوعْ
She was your springtime, she whose
Parting you mourn with burning tears.
كَيْفُhow عَفَتfaded أَزْهَارُهَاher blossoms وَانْقَضَتْand came to an end
كَيْفُ عَفَت أَزْهَارُهَا وَانْقَضَتْ
سَعَادَةُthe happiness الشَّمْلِthe union الهَنِيءِblissful الجَميعْunited
سَعَادَةُ الشَّمْلِ الهَنِيءِ الجَميعْ
How her blossoms have faded! And gone is
The joy of that sweet, unbroken union.
مِنْof طِيبِthe sweetness رَيَّاهاher fragrance وَمِنْand of حُسْنِهَاher beauty
مِنْ طِيبِ رَيَّاها وَمِنْ حُسْنِهَا
لَمْhas not يَبْقَremained إلاَّexcept ذِكْرَيَاتٌmemories تَضُوعْwaft fragrance
لَمْ يَبْقَ إلاَّ ذِكْرَيَاتٌ تَضُوعْ
Of her sweet fragrance and of her beauty,
Nothing remains but memories that breathe fragrance.
لِلهِto God (in admiration) إبْدَاعُكَyour artistry فِيin وَصْفِهَاdescribing her
لِلهِ إبْدَاعُكَ فِي وَصْفِهَا
تَصُوغُهُyou fashion it صَوْغَthe fashioning of الصَّائغِthe goldsmith الضَّليعْhighly skilled
تَصُوغُهُ صَوْغَ الصَّائغِ الضَّليعْ
God, what artistry in your portrayal of her!
You fashion it as a master goldsmith would.
خَلَّدْتَyou immortalized بِالشَّعرِthrough poetry لَهَاfor her صُورَةًan image
خَلَّدْتَ بِالشَّعرِ لَهَا صُورَةً
مِنَof الطِّرَازِthe kind العَبْقرِيِّinspired البَدِيعْexquisite
مِنَ الطِّرَازِ العَبْقرِيِّ البَدِيعْ
In verse you immortalized an image of her,
Of a kind both inspired and exquisite.
Sol 6.1