تَرَحَّلَhe departed مِنْfrom وَادِيthe valley of الأَرَاكَةِal-Araka بِالْوَجْدِwith yearning
تَرَحَّلَ مِنْ وَادِي الأَرَاكَةِ بِالْوَجْدِ
فَبَاتَso he spent the night سَقِيماًailing لاnot يُعِيدُrepeating a word وَلاand not يُبْدِيuttering a first word
فَبَاتَ سَقِيماً لا يُعِيدُ وَلا يُبْدِي
He departed the valley of al-Araka, burdened with yearning,
He departed from the valley of Arrakah lovesick,
and lay ailing through the night, saying nothing at all.
And spent the night ill, unable to express or reveal.
سَقِيماًailing تَظَلُّremain الْعَائِدَاتُthe women visiting the sick حَوَانِياًbending tenderly
سَقِيماً تَظَلُّ الْعَائِدَاتُ حَوَانِياً
عَلَيْهِover him بِإِشْفَاقٍwith pity وَإِنْeven if كَانَit was لاnot يُجْدِيhelpful
عَلَيْهِ بِإِشْفَاقٍ وَإِنْ كَانَ لا يُجْدِي
Ailing, with women visitors ever bending tenderly
Ill, while the returning women hover over him
over him in pity, though it brings no help.
With sympathy, though it will not avail.
يَخَلْنَthey suppose بِهِin him مَسَّاًa touch of madness أَصَابَstruck فُؤَادَهُhis heart
يَخَلْنَ بِهِ مَسَّاً أَصَابَ فُؤَادَهُ
وَلَيْسَand there is not بِهِin him مَسٌّmadness سِوَىexcept حُرَقِthe burning pains of الْوَجْدِyearning
وَلَيْسَ بِهِ مَسٌّ سِوَى حُرَقِ الْوَجْدِ
They suppose some madness has struck his heart,
They think some affliction has struck his heart,
yet no madness afflicts him, only the burning pains of yearning.
Yet he suffers nothing but the scorching of passion.
بِهِhe has عِلَّةٌan illness إِنْif لَمْnot تُصِبْهَاreaches it سَلامَةٌhealing
بِهِ عِلَّةٌ إِنْ لَمْ تُصِبْهَا سَلامَةٌ
مِنَfrom اللهِGod كَادَتْalmost نَفْسthe soul of حَامِلِهَاits bearer تُرْدِيdestroys
مِنَ اللهِ كَادَتْ نَفْس حَامِلِهَا تُرْدِي
He has an illness that, unless healing reaches it
He has a malady that, unless healed
from God, all but destroys the soul of its bearer.
By God, would have cast down the soul of its bearer.
وَمِنْand among عَجَبِthe wonders of الأَيَّامِthe days أَنِّيthat I مُولَعٌam enamored
وَمِنْ عَجَبِ الأَيَّامِ أَنِّي مُولَعٌ
بِمَنْof one who لَيْسَnot يَعْنِيهِconcerns him بُكَائِيmy weeping وَلاnor سُهْدِيmy sleeplessness
بِمَنْ لَيْسَ يَعْنِيهِ بُكَائِي وَلا سُهْدِي
Among the wonders of the days is that I am enamored
How strange the days, that I am obsessed
of one who cares neither for my weeping nor my sleeplessness.
With one who cares not for my tears or ardors!
أَبِيتُI spend the night عَلِيلاًailing فيin سَرَنْدِيبَSerendib سَاهِرَاًwakeful
أَبِيتُ عَلِيلاً في سَرَنْدِيبَ سَاهِرَاً
أُعَالِجُI struggle with مَاwhat أَلْقَاهُI encounter مِنْof لَوْعَتِيmy anguish وَحْدِيalone
أُعَالِجُ مَا أَلْقَاهُ مِنْ لَوْعَتِي وَحْدِي
I spend my nights in Serendib, sick and wakeful,
I pass the night lovesick in Sarandib, awake,
struggling alone with the anguish I endure.
Bearing alone the torment my passion has kindled.
أَدُورُI turn about بِعَيْنِيwith my eyes لاnot أَرَىI see وَجْهَthe face of صَاحِبٍa friend
أَدُورُ بِعَيْنِي لا أَرَى وَجْهَ صَاحِبٍ
يَرِيعُresponds لِصَوْتِيto my voice أَوْor يَرِقُّsoftens لِمَاat what أُبْدِيI reveal
يَرِيعُ لِصَوْتِي أَوْ يَرِقُّ لِمَا أُبْدِي
I turn my eyes about, seeing no friend's face
I turn my eyes, and see no friend’s face
that answers my voice or softens at what I reveal.
That stirs at my voice or softens at my plaints.
وَمِمَّاand among what شَجَانِيsaddened me بَارِقٌa lightning flash طَارَflew مَوْهِناًlate at night
وَمِمَّا شَجَانِي بَارِقٌ طَارَ مَوْهِناً
كَمَاas طَارَflew مُنْبَثُّthe scattered الشَّرَارِsparks مِنَfrom الزَّنْدِthe fire-stick
كَمَا طَارَ مُنْبَثُّ الشَّرَارِ مِنَ الزَّنْدِ
Among what grieved me was a lightning flash that flew late at night,
And what has pained me is a lightning bolt that flashed
as scattered sparks fly from a fire-stick.
And was gone, like sparks scattered from flint.
يُمَزِّقُrends أَسْتَارَthe veils of الدُّجُنَّةِdeep darkness ضَوْؤُهُits light
يُمَزِّقُ أَسْتَارَ الدُّجُنَّةِ ضَوْؤُهُ
فَيَنْسِلُهَاthen unravels them مَاthe stretch بَيْنَbetween غَورٍlowland إِلَىto نَجْدِhighland
فَيَنْسِلُهَا مَا بَيْنَ غَورٍ إِلَى نَجْدِ
Its light rends the veils of deep darkness,
Its glare tears apart the veils of darkness
then unravels them from lowland to highland.
And lays bare what lies between gorge and tract.
أَرِقْتُI lay awake لَهُbecause of it وَالشُّهْبُand the bright stars حَيْرَىbewildered كَلِيلَةٌweary
أَرِقْتُ لَهُ وَالشُّهْبُ حَيْرَى كَلِيلَةٌ
مِنَfrom السَّيْرِtravel وَالآفَاقُand the horizons حَالِكَةُpitch-black الْبُرْدِin cloak
مِنَ السَّيْرِ وَالآفَاقُ حَالِكَةُ الْبُرْدِ
I lay awake because of it, while the bright stars were bewildered and weary
I lay sleepless for it while the meteors wandered,
from their journey, and the horizons wore pitch-black cloaks.
Bewildered, and the horizons seethed with cold.
فَبِتُّso I spent the night كَأَنِّيas though I بَيْنَbetween أَنْيَابِthe fangs of حَيَّةٍa serpent
فَبِتُّ كَأَنِّي بَيْنَ أَنْيَابِ حَيَّةٍ
مِنَof الرُّقْطِthe speckled kind أَوْor فيin بُرْثُنَيْthe two clawed paws of أَسَدٍa lion وَرْدِtawny
مِنَ الرُّقْطِ أَوْ في بُرْثُنَيْ أَسَدٍ وَرْدِ
So I passed the night as though between a serpent's fangs,
I remain as if between the fangs of a serpent
one of the speckled kind, or in the two clawed paws of a tawny lion.
Made of plaited withes, or in a lion’s den.
أُقَلِّبُI turn طَرْفِيmy gaze وَالنُّجُومُand the stars كَأَنَّهاas though they
أُقَلِّبُ طَرْفِي وَالنُّجُومُ كَأَنَّها
قَتِيرٌmail rivets مِنَof الْيَاقُوتِruby يَلْمَعُgleaming فِيin سَرْدِchain mail
قَتِيرٌ مِنَ الْيَاقُوتِ يَلْمَعُ فِي سَرْدِ
I turn my gaze, while the stars seem like
I turn over, and the stars seem
ruby rivets gleaming in chain mail.
Scattered gems of ruby glowing in a necklace.
وَلاand no صَاحِبٌcompanion غَيْرُexcept الْحُسامِthe keen sword مَنُوطَةٌhung
وَلا صَاحِبٌ غَيْرُ الْحُسامِ مَنُوطَةٌ
حَمَائِلُهُits straps مِنِّيof mine عَلَىon عَاتِقٍa shoulder صَلْدِfirm
حَمَائِلُهُ مِنِّي عَلَى عَاتِقٍ صَلْدِ
No companion but my keen sword, hanging
I have no friend but the sword, its strap
by its straps upon my sturdy shoulder.
Slung over my shoulder in the desolate waste.
إِذَاwhen حَرَّكَتْهُstirs it رَاحَتيmy palm لِمُلِمَّةٍfor a calamity
إِذَا حَرَّكَتْهُ رَاحَتي لِمُلِمَّةٍ
تَطَلَّعَit peers نَحْوِيtoward me يَشْرَئِبُّcranes its neck مِنَfrom الْغِمْدِthe sheath
تَطَلَّعَ نَحْوِي يَشْرَئِبُّ مِنَ الْغِمْدِ
When my palm stirs it to meet a calamity,
When my hand stirs it for battle, it glares
it peers toward me, craning its neck from the sheath.
Toward me, snarling, from its sheath.
أَشَدُّgreater مَضَاءًin keenness مِنْthan فُؤَادِيmy heart عَلَىagainst الْعِداthe enemies
أَشَدُّ مَضَاءً مِنْ فُؤَادِي عَلَى الْعِدا
وَأَبْطَأُand slower نَصْرِيin aiding me عَلَىagainst الشَّوْقِlonging مِنْthan فِنْدِa great rock
وَأَبْطَأُ نَصْرِي عَلَى الشَّوْقِ مِنْ فِنْدِ
Keener than my heart against enemies,
It shines more brightly than my heart against the foe,
yet slower than a great rock to aid me against longing.
Yet is slower to assuage my passion than a blade.
أَقُولُI say لَهُto it وَالْجَفْنُand the eyelid يَكْسُوclothes نِجَادَهُits sword-belt
أَقُولُ لَهُ وَالْجَفْنُ يَكْسُو نِجَادَهُ
دُمُوعاًwith tears كَمُرْفَضِّlike scattered الْجُمَانِpearls مِنَfrom الْعِقْدِthe necklace
دُمُوعاً كَمُرْفَضِّ الْجُمَانِ مِنَ الْعِقْدِ
I say to it, while my eyelid clothes its sword-belt
I say to it, as tears flood its burnished surface
in tears, like pearls spilling from a necklace:
Like the drip of carnelian beads from a necklace:
لَقَدْindeed كُنْتَyou were لِيfor me عَوْنَاًa helper عَلَىagainst الدَّهْرِfate مَرَّةًonce
لَقَدْ كُنْتَ لِي عَوْنَاً عَلَى الدَّهْرِ مَرَّةً
فَمَاso why لِيfor me أَرَاكَI see you الْيَوْمَtoday مُنْثَلِمَchipped الْحَدِّin edge
فَمَا لِي أَرَاكَ الْيَوْمَ مُنْثَلِمَ الْحَدِّ
“You once were my ally against fate;
“Once you aided me against Fate,
why do I see you today with a chipped edge?”
Why do I see you powerless today?”
فَقَالَthen it said إِذَاif لَمْnot تَسْتَطِعْyou can withstand سَوْرَةَthe surge of الْهَوَىlove
فَقَالَ إِذَا لَمْ تَسْتَطِعْ سَوْرَةَ الْهَوَى
وَأَنْتَand you جَلِيدُthe stalwart of الْقَوْمِthe people مَاnot أَنَاI بِالْجَلْدِat all strong
وَأَنْتَ جَلِيدُ الْقَوْمِ مَا أَنَا بِالْجَلْدِ
It replied: “If you cannot withstand love's surge,
It answered: “If you cannot endure the woeful state
though you are your people's stalwart, I am not strong.
Of passion, and you are the most stouthearted of men, I cannot be stout.
وَهَلْand am أَنَاI إِلَّاanything but شِقَّةٌa strip مِنْof حَدِيدَةٍa piece of iron
وَهَلْ أَنَا إِلَّا شِقَّةٌ مِنْ حَدِيدَةٍ
أَلَحَّworked relentlessly عَلَيْهَاon it الْقَيْنُthe smith بِالطَّرْقِby hammering وَالْحَدِّand sharpening
أَلَحَّ عَلَيْهَا الْقَيْنُ بِالطَّرْقِ وَالْحَدِّ
Am I anything but a strip of iron,
I am but a piece of hardened iron
on which the smith labored relentlessly, hammering and sharpening?
Beaten upon by the hammer and chisel.
فَمَاso not كُنْتُwould I be لَوْلاwere it not that إِنَّنِيindeed I وَاهِنُweak الْقُوَىin strength
فَمَا كُنْتُ لَوْلا إِنَّنِي وَاهِنُ الْقُوَى
أُعَلَّقُI am hung فِيon خَيْطٍa thread وَأُحْبَسُand I am confined فيin جِلْدِleather
أُعَلَّقُ فِي خَيْطٍ وَأُحْبَسُ في جِلْدِ
For if my strength were not so feeble, I would not be
Were I not weak in strength
hung on a thread and imprisoned in leather.
I would hang myself by a thread or store myself in a sheath.
فَدُونَكَso take for yourself غَيْرِيsomeone other than me فَاسْتَعِنْهُthen seek his help عَلَىagainst الجَوَىlove's anguish
فَدُونَكَ غَيْرِي فَاسْتَعِنْهُ عَلَى الجَوَى
وَدَعْنِيand spare me مِنَfrom الشَّكْوَىcomplaint فَدَاءُfor the illness of الْهَوَىlove يُعْدِيis contagious
وَدَعْنِي مِنَ الشَّكْوَى فَدَاءُ الْهَوَى يُعْدِي
So take someone else and seek his help against love's anguish,
Find someone other than me to aid you against passion
and spare me your complaints: love's sickness is contagious.”
And leave me be, for the cure of passion is to indulge it.
خَلِيلَيَّmy two friends هَذَاthis الشَوْقُlonging لاno شَكَّdoubt قَاتِلِيmy killer
خَلِيلَيَّ هَذَا الشَوْقُ لا شَكَّ قَاتِلِي
فَمِيلاso turn, both of you إِلَىtoward الْمِقْيَاسِthe Nilometer إِنْif خِفْتُمَاyou both fear فَقْدِيlosing me
فَمِيلا إِلَى الْمِقْيَاسِ إِنْ خِفْتُمَا فَقْدِي
My two friends, this longing will surely kill me;
My friend, this passion will surely kill me,
so turn toward the Nilometer if you fear losing me.
So turn to moderation, if you fear my loss.”
فَفِيfor in ذَلِكَthat الْوَادِيvalley الَّذِيwhich أَنْبَتَmade grow الْهَوَىlove
فَفِي ذَلِكَ الْوَادِي الَّذِي أَنْبَتَ الْهَوَى
شِفَائِيmy healing مِنْfrom سُقْمِيmy sickness وَبُرْئِيَand my recovery مِنْfrom وَجْدِيmy yearning
شِفَائِي مِنْ سُقْمِي وَبُرْئِيَ مِنْ وَجْدِي
For in that valley that made love grow
In that valley where passion took root
lie my healing from sickness and my recovery from yearning.
Lies my cure from my sickness and relief from my torment.
مَلاعِبُplaygrounds لَهْوٍof pleasure طَالَمَاso often سِرْتُI walked بَيْنَهَاamong them
مَلاعِبُ لَهْوٍ طَالَمَا سِرْتُ بَيْنَهَا
عَلَىon أَثَرِthe trail اللَّذَّاتِof delights فِيin عِيشَةٍa life رَغْدِof ease
عَلَى أَثَرِ اللَّذَّاتِ فِي عِيشَةٍ رَغْدِ
Pleasure grounds among which I so often wandered,
Places of merry dalliance, where often I wandered
on the trail of delights, in a life of ease.
After worldly pleasures, in a life of ease.
إِذَاwhen ذَكَرَتْهَاrecalls them النَّفْسُthe soul سَالَتْflows مِنَfrom الأَسَىsorrow
إِذَا ذَكَرَتْهَا النَّفْسُ سَالَتْ مِنَ الأَسَى
مَعَwith الدَّمْعِthe tears حَتَّىuntil لاnot تُنَهْنَهُis restrained بِالرَّدِّby being checked
مَعَ الدَّمْعِ حَتَّى لا تُنَهْنَهُ بِالرَّدِّ
When my soul recalls them, it flows from grief
When the soul recalls them, it sheds tears of sorrow
with the tears, beyond all restraint.
Along with weeping, so it cannot check its flow.
فَيَاso O مَنْزِلاًdwelling زَقْرَقْتُI poured out ماءَthe water شَبيبَتِيof my youth
فَيَا مَنْزِلاً زَقْرَقْتُ ماءَ شَبيبَتِي
بِأَفْنَائِهِin its courtyards بَيْنَbetween الأَرَاكَةِthe arak tree والرَّنْدِand the laurel
بِأَفْنَائِهِ بَيْنَ الأَرَاكَةِ والرَّنْدِ
O dwelling, where I poured the water of my youth
O dwelling where I squandered my youth
in its courtyards, between the arak tree and the laurel,
Between Arrakah and Rend, in its valleys,
سَرَتْstole forth سَحَراًbefore dawn فَاسْتَقْبَلَتْكَthen greeted you يَدُthe hand الصَّبَاof the east wind
سَرَتْ سَحَراً فَاسْتَقْبَلَتْكَ يَدُ الصَّبَا
بِأَنْفَاسِهَاwith its breaths وَانْشَقَّand broke open فَجْرُكَyour dawn بِالْحَمْدِwith praise
بِأَنْفَاسِهَا وَانْشَقَّ فَجْرُكَ بِالْحَمْدِ
the east wind's hand stole forth before dawn and greeted you
The dawn breeze stole forth toward you at daybreak,
with its breaths, and your dawn broke in praise.
Greeted by its breath, and your dawn shone with praise.
وَزَرَّand fastened عَلَيْكَaround you الأُفْقُthe horizon طَوْقَa collar غَمَامَةٍof cloud
وَزَرَّ عَلَيْكَ الأُفْقُ طَوْقَ غَمَامَةٍ
خَضِيبَةِdyed كَفِّin hand الْبَرْقِof lightning حَنَّانَةِtenderly moaning الرَّعْدِin thunder
خَضِيبَةِ كَفِّ الْبَرْقِ حَنَّانَةِ الرَّعْدِ
And the horizon fastened around you a collar of cloud,
The horizon clothed you in a necklace of cloud,
its lightning-hand dyed, its thunder tenderly moaning.
Hands tinted like lightning’s grip, thunderous.
فَلَسْتُfor I am not بِنَاسٍforgetful لَيْلَةًa night سَلَفَتْthat passed لَنَاfor us
فَلَسْتُ بِنَاسٍ لَيْلَةً سَلَفَتْ لَنَا
بِوَادِيهِin its valley والدُّنْيَاwhile the world تَغُرُّbeguiles بِمَاwith what تُسْدِيit bestows
بِوَادِيهِ والدُّنْيَا تَغُرُّ بِمَا تُسْدِي
For I have not forgotten a night we shared
I cannot forget a night we spent there,
in its valley, while the world beguiled us with its gifts,
While the world tempted with the bounty it bestows.
إِذِwhen الْعَيْشُlife رَيَّانُlush الأَمَالِيدِin tender shoots وَالْهَوَىand love
إِذِ الْعَيْشُ رَيَّانُ الأَمَالِيدِ وَالْهَوَى
جَدِيدٌnew وَإِذْand when لَمْيَاءُa dark-lipped maiden صَافِيَةُpure الْوُدِّin affection
جَدِيدٌ وَإِذْ لَمْيَاءُ صَافِيَةُ الْوُدِّ
when life's tender shoots were lush, and love
When life was fresh, and passion new,
was new, and a dark-lipped maiden was pure in affection.
And the valley’s waters were limpid and loving.
مُنَعَّمَةٌdelicately nurtured لِلْبَدْرِto the full moon مَاwhat فِيwithin قِنَاعِهَاher veil
مُنَعَّمَةٌ لِلْبَدْرِ مَا فِي قِنَاعِهَا
وَلِلْغُصْنِand to the bough ماwhat دَارَتْencircled بِهِaround it عُقْدَةُthe knot الْبَنْدِof the sash
وَلِلْغُصْنِ ما دَارَتْ بِهِ عُقْدَةُ الْبَنْدِ
Delicately nurtured, with a full moon beneath her veil,
A refuge for the moon through its veil,
and a bough within the knot of her sash.
And the branch through the knot in its band.
سَبَتْنِيshe captivated me بِعَيْنَيْهَاwith her eyes وَقَالَتْand she said لِتِرْبِهَاto her female age-mate
سَبَتْنِي بِعَيْنَيْهَا وَقَالَتْ لِتِرْبِهَا
أَلاah مَاwhat لِهَذاwith this الْغِرِّinexperienced youth يَتْبَعُنِيfollows me قَصْدِيmy course
أَلا مَا لِهَذا الْغِرِّ يَتْبَعُنِي قَصْدِي
She captivated me with her eyes and said to her age-mate:
She teased me with her eyes and said to the soil:
“Ah, what ails this innocent, following me where I am bound?”
“Look at this lanky fellow following me on purpose!”
وَلَمْand did not تَدْرِknow ذَاتُshe with الخَالِthe beauty mark وَالْحُبُّand love فَاضِحٌreveals secrets
وَلَمْ تَدْرِ ذَاتُ الخَالِ وَالْحُبُّ فَاضِحٌ
بِأَنَّof the fact that الَّذِيwhat أُخْفِيهِI conceal it غَيْرُdifferent from الَّذِيwhat أُبْدِيI reveal
بِأَنَّ الَّذِي أُخْفِيهِ غَيْرُ الَّذِي أُبْدِي
The beauty-marked maiden did not know—though love exposes us—
Not knowing the mole and love cannot be hidden—
that what I hide is different from what I show.
What I conceal is not what I divulge.
حَنَانَيْكِyour mercy, again and again إِنَّindeed الرَّأْيَreason حَارَgrew bewildered دَلِيلُهُits guide
حَنَانَيْكِ إِنَّ الرَّأْيَ حَارَ دَلِيلُهُ
فَضَلَّso it strayed وَعادَand turned الْهَزْلُjest فِيكِconcerning you إِلَىto الْجِدِّearnestness
فَضَلَّ وَعادَ الْهَزْلُ فِيكِ إِلَى الْجِدِّ
Have mercy! Reason's guide grew bewildered,
My gazelle, reason itself went astray as a guide
so it strayed, and jesting over you turned to earnestness.
And erred, while jest in you turned serious.
فَلاso do not تَسْأَلِيask مِنِّيof me الزِّيَادَةَmore فيin الْهَوَىlove
فَلا تَسْأَلِي مِنِّي الزِّيَادَةَ في الْهَوَى
رُوَيْداًgently فَهَذَاfor this الْوَجْدُyearning آخِرُthe utmost مَاof what عِنْدِيI have
رُوَيْداً فَهَذَا الْوَجْدُ آخِرُ مَا عِنْدِي
So ask no more love of me;
Do not ask me for more passion, gently,
gently—this yearning is all I have to give.
For this torment is the last I can bear.
وَهَأَنَاand here I am مُنْقَادٌobedient كَمَاas حَكَمَdecreed الْهَوَىlove
وَهَأَنَا مُنْقَادٌ كَمَا حَكَمَ الْهَوَى
لأَمْرِكِto your command فَاخْشَيْso revere حُرْمَةَthe sanctity اللهِof God وَالْمَجْدِand of honor
لأَمْرِكِ فَاخْشَيْ حُرْمَةَ اللهِ وَالْمَجْدِ
Here I am, obedient, as love has decreed,
And your command. So fear God and glory!
to your command; so respect the sanctity of God and honor.
For if you said “Arise and climb a lofty peak,
فَلَوْso if قُلْتِyou said قُمْrise فَاصْعَدْthen climb إِلَىto رَأْسthe summit شَاهِقٍof a lofty peak
فَلَوْ قُلْتِ قُمْ فَاصْعَدْ إِلَى رَأْس شَاهِقٍ
وَأَلْقِand cast إِذَاwhen أَشْرَفْتَyou look down نَفْسَكَyourself لِلْوَهْدِinto the hollow
وَأَلْقِ إِذَا أَشْرَفْتَ نَفْسَكَ لِلْوَهْدِ
Were you to say, “Rise and climb to a lofty summit,
And when you reach the top, hurl yourself into the abyss,”
and, once you look down, fling yourself into the hollow,”
I would cast myself in willingly, so that afterward
لأَلْقَيْتُهَاI would surely cast it طَوْعاًwillingly لَعَلَّكِperhaps you بَعْدَهاafter it
لأَلْقَيْتُهَا طَوْعاً لَعَلَّكِ بَعْدَها
تَقُولِينَyou would say حَيَّاmay He bless اللهُGod عَهْدَكَyour pledge مِنْwhat a عَهْدِpledge
تَقُولِينَ حَيَّا اللهُ عَهْدَكَ مِنْ عَهْدِ
I would throw myself willingly, hoping that afterward
You might say: “God keep the pact you made!”
you might say, “May God bless your pledge—what a pledge!”
A soul that does not betray its friend
سَجِيَّةُthe nature نَفْسٍof a soul لاnot تَخُونُbetrays خَلِيلَهَاits companion
سَجِيَّةُ نَفْسٍ لا تَخُونُ خَلِيلَهَا
وَلاand not تَرْكَبُbraves الأَهْوَالَterrors إِلَّاexcept عَلَىwith عَمْدِdeliberate intent
وَلا تَرْكَبُ الأَهْوَالَ إِلَّا عَلَى عَمْدِ
Such is the nature of a soul that never betrays its companion,
And courts peril only with purposeful intent,
and never braves terrors save deliberately.
I am bold in the face of horror and havoc
وَإِنِّيand indeed I لَمِقْدَامٌam truly intrepid عَلَىin facing الْهَوْلِterror وَالرَّدَىand death
وَإِنِّي لَمِقْدَامٌ عَلَى الْهَوْلِ وَالرَّدَى
بِنَفْسِيwith my own life وَفِيand in الإِقْدَامِventuring بِالنَّفْسِwith one's life مَاwhat يُرْدِيdestroys
بِنَفْسِي وَفِي الإِقْدَامِ بِالنَّفْسِ مَا يُرْدِي
Indeed I am bold in facing terror and death,
With my life, and in valor with one’s life lies destruction.
with my own life—and risking one's life can bring destruction.
I speak truly when the right way is obscured
وَإِنِّيand indeed I لَقَوَّالٌam truly outspoken إِذَاwhen الْتَبَسَgrew confused الْهُدَىguidance
وَإِنِّي لَقَوَّالٌ إِذَا الْتَبَسَ الْهُدَى
وَجَارَتْand strayed حُلُومُthe judgments الْقَوْمِof the people عَنْfrom سَنَنِthe path الْقَصْدِof rectitude
وَجَارَتْ حُلُومُ الْقَوْمِ عَنْ سَنَنِ الْقَصْدِ
And I am indeed outspoken when guidance grows confused
And the people’s minds turn from the path of propriety.
and people's judgments stray from the path of rectitude.
If I make peace, the Quraysh mock me,
فَإِنْso if صُلْتُI charge فَدَّانِيransoms me الْكَمِيُّthe armored warrior بِنَفْسِهِwith his own life
فَإِنْ صُلْتُ فَدَّانِي الْكَمِيُّ بِنَفْسِهِ
وَإِنْand if قُلْتُI speak لَبَّانِيanswers me الْوَلِيدُthe newborn مِنَfrom الْمَهْدِthe cradle
وَإِنْ قُلْتُ لَبَّانِي الْوَلِيدُ مِنَ الْمَهْدِ
If I charge, the armored warrior offers his life in ransom for me;
And if I talk, the Banu Waleed mock me from the cradle.
and if I speak, the newborn answers me from the cradle.
Every smooth ancient ode is strange to me
وَلِيand mine is كُلُّevery مَلْسَاءِsmooth الْمُتُونِin its surfaces غَرِيبَةٍrare
وَلِي كُلُّ مَلْسَاءِ الْمُتُونِ غَرِيبَةٍ
إِذَاwhen أُنْشِدَتْit is recited أَفْضَتْleads لِذِكْرِto mention of بَنِيthe sons of سَعْدِSa'd
إِذَا أُنْشِدَتْ أَفْضَتْ لِذِكْرِ بَنِي سَعْدِ
And mine is every rare, smooth-backed poem
When recited, save those that tell of Banu Sa’d.
that, when recited, calls Banu Sa'd to mind,
Gentler to the ears than the melody of the lute,
أَخَفُّlighter عَلَىon الأَسْمَاعِthe ears مِنْthan نَغَمِthe melody الْحُدَاof camel-driving song
أَخَفُّ عَلَى الأَسْمَاعِ مِنْ نَغَمِ الْحُدَا
وَأَلْطَفُand lovelier عِنْدَto الْنَّفْسِthe soul مِنْthan زَمَنِthe season الْوَرْدِof roses
وَأَلْطَفُ عِنْدَ الْنَّفْسِ مِنْ زَمَنِ الْوَرْدِ
lighter on the ears than the melodies of camel-driving songs,
And pleasanter to the soul than the season of roses,
and lovelier to the soul than the season of roses.
Effacing with its sleeves’ trails the compositions
مُخَدَّرَةٌa secluded maiden تَمْحُوerases بِأَذْيَالِwith the trailing hems حُسْنِهَاof her beauty
مُخَدَّرَةٌ تَمْحُو بِأَذْيَالِ حُسْنِهَا
أَسَاطِيرَthe writings مَنْof those قَبْلِيbefore me وَتُعْجِزُand defeats مَنْthose بَعْدِيafter me
أَسَاطِيرَ مَنْ قَبْلِي وَتُعْجِزُ مَنْ بَعْدِي
A secluded maiden, whose beauty's trailing hems erase
Of those before and after me, and humbling them.
the writings of those before me and defeat those after me.
Thus am I, saying and then doing—
كَذَلِكَthus إِنِّيindeed I قَائِلٌone who speaks ثُمَّthen فَاعِلٌone who acts
كَذَلِكَ إِنِّي قَائِلٌ ثُمَّ فَاعِلٌ
فِعَالِيmy deeds وَغَيرِيand someone other than me قَدْmay يُنِيرُreadies the loom's heddles وَلاbut does not يُسْدِيlay the warp
فِعَالِي وَغَيرِي قَدْ يُنِيرُ وَلا يُسْدِي
Thus I speak, and then carry out
My actions and those of others may elucidate or obscure.
my deeds; another may ready the heddles, yet lay no warp.
Partial English translation: 91 of 92 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1