أَلاَcome now! عاطِنِيهاpass her to me بِنْتَdaughter كَرْمٍa vine تَزَوَّجَتْshe married
أَلاَ عاطِنِيها بِنْتَ كَرْمٍ تَزَوَّجَتْ
عَلَىto the accompaniment of نَغَماتِmelodies الْعُودِthe oud بِابْنِto a son سَمَاءِthe sky
عَلَى نَغَماتِ الْعُودِ بِابْنِ سَمَاءِ
Come, pass her to me—the vine’s daughter, who was wed
Behold she who was given in marriage
To a son of the sky, amid the melodies of the oud.
To the strains of the lute and heaven’s heir,
أَتَتْcame حِقَبٌages مِنْfrom دُونِهاbefore her فَتَهدَّمَتْso she crumbled
أَتَتْ حِقَبٌ مِنْ دُونِها فَتَهدَّمَتْ
سِوَىexcept رَدْعِa stain لَوْنٍcolor أَوْor رَفِيفِa flutter ذَمَاءِlingering life
سِوَى رَدْعِ لَوْنٍ أَوْ رَفِيفِ ذَمَاءِ
Ages have passed before her, and she has wasted away,
There came one after her who then perished
Save for a stain of color or a last flicker of life.
Save the hue of a cheek or a lock of hair.
إِذاwhen اتَّقَدَتْshe blazed فيin الْكَأْسِthe cup خِلْتَyou thought وَمِيضَهَاher gleam
إِذا اتَّقَدَتْ في الْكَأْسِ خِلْتَ وَمِيضَهَا
عَلَىupon وَتَراتِthe finger-webs الْكَفِّthe hand نَضْحَa spatter دِمَاءِblood
عَلَى وَتَراتِ الْكَفِّ نَضْحَ دِمَاءِ
When she blazes in the cup, you would take her gleam
When it kindles in the cup, I see its flash
On the webbing of the hand for a spatter of blood.
On the strings of the hand the blood of vair,
فَهَاتِso bring it وَخُذْand take وَاشْرَبْand drink وَدُرْand go round وَاسْقِand give drink وَارْتَجِعْand return
فَهَاتِ وَخُذْ وَاشْرَبْ وَدُرْ وَاسْقِ وَارْتَجِعْ
إِلَىto الدَّوْرِthe round مِنْfrom بَدْءٍthe beginning عَلَىamong النُّدَمَاءِthe drinking companions
إِلَى الدَّوْرِ مِنْ بَدْءٍ عَلَى النُّدَمَاءِ
So bring it, take, drink, go round, give drink, and return
So give me that I may drink deep and cry
To the round, starting afresh among the drinking companions.
For a repeat “to the house” from but a prayer;
وَدَعْنِيand spare me مِنْfrom ذِكْرِmention الْوَقَارِdignity فَإِنَّنِيfor indeed I
وَدَعْنِي مِنْ ذِكْرِ الْوَقَارِ فَإِنَّنِي
عَلَىin سَرَفٍexcess مِنْof بِغْضَةِhatred الحُلَمَاءِthe sober-minded
عَلَى سَرَفٍ مِنْ بِغْضَةِ الحُلَمَاءِ
And spare me talk of dignity, for I
And leave me alone about dignity’s sake
Am immoderate in my hatred of the sober-minded.
For overdoing it I just do not care.
فَمَاfor ... not الْعَيْشُlife إِلَّاexcept ساعَةٌan hour سَوْفَwill تَنْقَضِيpass away
فَمَا الْعَيْشُ إِلَّا ساعَةٌ سَوْفَ تَنْقَضِي
وَذَاand this الدَّهْرُTime فينَاat us مُولَعٌobsessed بِرِماءِwith shooting
وَذَا الدَّهْرُ فينَا مُولَعٌ بِرِماءِ
For life is but an hour that will pass away,
Life is naught but an hour soon to vanish
And this Time is bent on shooting at us.
And Time with us has a tendency to tear.
وَلاand do not تَحْسَبَنَّever suppose المَرءَa man يَبْقَىremains مُخَلَّداًimmortal
وَلا تَحْسَبَنَّ المَرءَ يَبْقَى مُخَلَّداً
فَمَاfor ... not النَّقْصُdecline إِلَّاexcept بَعدَafter كُلِّevery نَماءِgrowth
فَمَا النَّقْصُ إِلَّا بَعدَ كُلِّ نَماءِ
And never think that a man will remain immortal:
Think not man immortal, death undying—
For decline follows every growth.
No thing grows up except loss it must bear.
أَبِيmy father آدَمٌAdam باعَsold الْجِنَانَthe gardens of Paradise بِحَبَّةٍfor a grain
أَبِي آدَمٌ باعَ الْجِنَانَ بِحَبَّةٍ
وَبِعْتُand I sold أَنَاI myself الدُّنْيَاthis world بِجَرْعَةِfor a draught ماءِwater
وَبِعْتُ أَنَا الدُّنْيَا بِجَرْعَةِ ماءِ
My father Adam sold the gardens of Paradise for a grain,
Father Adam for a grain once gave up heaven,
And I myself sold this world for a draught of water.
And I’ve bartered the world away for a bare.
Sol 6.1