هُوَit is الْبَيْنُparting حَتَّىto the point that لاno سَلامٌgreeting وَلاand no رَدُّreply
هُوَ الْبَيْنُ حَتَّى لا سَلامٌ وَلا رَدُّ
وَلاand no نَظْرَةٌa glance يَقْضِيdischarges بِهَاthrough it حَقَّهُits due الْوَجْدُyearning
وَلا نَظْرَةٌ يَقْضِي بِهَا حَقَّهُ الْوَجْدُ
It is parting—so complete that neither greeting nor reply remains,
He is the separation, no greetings or response
nor a glance to satisfy longing's claim.
No glance to fulfill the right of passion
لَقَدْindeed نَعَبَcroaked الْوَابُورُthe steam engine بِالْبَيْنِof parting بَيْنَهُمْamong them
لَقَدْ نَعَبَ الْوَابُورُ بِالْبَيْنِ بَيْنَهُمْ
فَسَارُواso they departed وَلاand did not زَمُّواthey haltered جِمَالاًcamels وَلاand did not شَدُّواthey secured saddles
فَسَارُوا وَلا زَمُّوا جِمَالاً وَلا شَدُّوا
The steam engine croaked of parting in their midst,
The steamer has set sail with the separation between them
so they departed without haltering camels or securing saddles.
They departed without beauty or pulling of ropes
سَرَىjourneyed by night بِهِمُwith them سَيْرَthe movement of الْغَمَامِthe clouds كَأَنَّمَاas though
سَرَى بِهِمُ سَيْرَ الْغَمَامِ كَأَنَّمَا
لَهُfor it فِيin تَنَائِيthe mutual distancing of كُلِّevery ذِيone possessing خُلَّةٍfriendship قَصْدُan aim
لَهُ فِي تَنَائِي كُلِّ ذِي خُلَّةٍ قَصْدُ
It bore them by night as clouds move, as though
It sailed with them like the sailing of clouds
it meant to sunder everyone bound by friendship.
As if it had the intention to distance all lovers
فَلاso no عَيْنَeye إِلَّاexcept وَهْيَwhile it is عَيْنٌa spring مِنَof الْبُكَىweeping
فَلا عَيْنَ إِلَّا وَهْيَ عَيْنٌ مِنَ الْبُكَى
وَلاand no خَدَّcheek إِلَّاexcept لِلدُّمُوعِfor the tears بِهِon it خَدُّa furrow
وَلا خَدَّ إِلَّا لِلدُّمُوعِ بِهِ خَدُّ
No eye but has become a spring of weeping,
So every eye is an eye of crying
nor a cheek without a furrow scored by tears.
And every cheek has tears upon it
فَيَاso O سَعْدُSa'd حَدِّثْنِيtell me بِأَخْبَارِabout news of مَنْthose who مَضَىdeparted
فَيَا سَعْدُ حَدِّثْنِي بِأَخْبَارِ مَنْ مَضَى
فَأَنْتَfor you خَبِيرٌwell-informed بِالأَحَادِيثِabout the accounts يَاO سَعْدُSa'd
فَأَنْتَ خَبِيرٌ بِالأَحَادِيثِ يَا سَعْدُ
So, Sa'd, tell me news of those who have gone,
So Sa'd, tell me news of those who left
for you are versed in their stories, Sa'd.
You are knowledgeable of stories, O Sa'd
لَعَلَّperhaps حَدِيثَtalk of الشَّوْقِlonging يُطْفِئُquenches لَوْعَةًa burning anguish
لَعَلَّ حَدِيثَ الشَّوْقِ يُطْفِئُ لَوْعَةً
مِنَof الْوَجْدِyearning أَوْor يَقْضِيmakes an end بِصَاحِبِهِof its sufferer الْفَقْدُloss
مِنَ الْوَجْدِ أَوْ يَقْضِي بِصَاحِبِهِ الْفَقْدُ
Perhaps talk of longing will quench a burning pang
Perhaps the talk of longing may extinguish an ember
of yearning—or loss will make an end of its sufferer.
Of passion or may fulfill the loss of the absent one
هُوَit is النَّارُfire فيin الأَحْشَاءِthe entrails لَكِنْyet لِوَقْعِهَاfor its touch
هُوَ النَّارُ في الأَحْشَاءِ لَكِنْ لِوَقْعِهَا
عَلَىupon كَبِدِيmy liver مِمَّاamong what أَلَذُّI delight بِهِin it بَرْدُcoolness
عَلَى كَبِدِي مِمَّا أَلَذُّ بِهِ بَرْدُ
It is fire in the entrails, yet in its touch
It is a fire in the entrails, but for its fall
upon my liver is a coolness that I savor.
Upon my liver, that which cools it is most beloved
لَعَمْرُby the life of الْمَغَانِيthe dwellings وَهْيَand they are عِنْدِيto me عَزِيزَةٌdear
لَعَمْرُ الْمَغَانِي وَهْيَ عِنْدِي عَزِيزَةٌ
بِسَاكِنِهَاfor their inhabitant مَاnot شَاقَنِيcharmed me بَعْدَهَاafter them عَهْدُa time
بِسَاكِنِهَا مَا شَاقَنِي بَعْدَهَا عَهْدُ
By the life of those dwellings, dear to me
By the passions! They are dear to me
for their dweller's sake: no later days have charmed me.
Nothing has troubled me after residing in them
لَكَانَتْindeed they were وَفيهَاand in them مَاwhat تَرَىsees عَيْنُthe eye of نَاظِرٍa beholder
لَكَانَتْ وَفيهَا مَا تَرَى عَيْنُ نَاظِرٍ
وَأَمْسَتْand they became وَمَاand not فِيهاin them لِغَيْرِfor any but الأَسَىgrief وَفْدُa visiting company
وَأَمْسَتْ وَمَا فِيها لِغَيْرِ الأَسَى وَفْدُ
Indeed, they once held all a beholder's eye could see,
If it contained what an onlooker's eye sees
but now no company visits them except grief.
It spent the night without anything but sorrow and visitors
خَلاءٌempty مِنَof الأُلافِintimates إِلَّاexcept عِصَابَةًa band
خَلاءٌ مِنَ الأُلافِ إِلَّا عِصَابَةً
حَدَاهُمْurged them إِلَىtoward عِرْفَانِهَاrecognizing them أَمَلٌa hope فَرْدُsingle
حَدَاهُمْ إِلَى عِرْفَانِهَا أَمَلٌ فَرْدُ
Empty of intimates, save a small band
Emptied of friends, except for a group
whom a single hope urged to seek them out.
Whose hopes led them to know it
دَعَتْهُمْcalled them إِلَيْهَاto them نَفْحَةٌa fragrant breath عَنْبَرِيَّةٌambergris-scented
دَعَتْهُمْ إِلَيْهَا نَفْحَةٌ عَنْبَرِيَّةٌ
وَبِالنَّفْحَةِand by the fragrance الْحَسْنَاءِlovely قَدْmay يُعْرَفُbe recognized الْوَرْدُthe rose
وَبِالنَّفْحَةِ الْحَسْنَاءِ قَدْ يُعْرَفُ الْوَرْدُ
An ambergris-scented breath called them there,
An ambergris breeze called them
and by its lovely fragrance the rose may be known.
And by the beautiful breeze, roses are known
وَقَفْنَاwe halted فَسَلَّمْنَاthen we greeted فَرَدَّتْand they replied بِأَلْسُنٍwith tongues
وَقَفْنَا فَسَلَّمْنَا فَرَدَّتْ بِأَلْسُنٍ
صَوَامِتَsilent إِلَّاexcept أَنَّهَاthat they are أَلْسُنٌtongues لُدُّcontentious
صَوَامِتَ إِلَّا أَنَّهَا أَلْسُنٌ لُدُّ
We halted and greeted them; they answered with tongues
We stopped and greeted with silent tongues
mute, yet fiercely contentious:
Except they are tongues that speak
فَمِنْso from مُقْلَةٍan eye عَبْرَىtearful وَمِنْand from لَفْحِthe scorching breath of زَفْرَةٍa sigh
فَمِنْ مُقْلَةٍ عَبْرَى وَمِنْ لَفْحِ زَفْرَةٍ
لَهَاit has شَرَرٌsparks بَيْنَamid الْحَشَاthe entrails مَاno لَهُfor it زَنْدُa fire-stick
لَهَا شَرَرٌ بَيْنَ الْحَشَا مَا لَهُ زَنْدُ
from a tearful eye, and from a sigh's scorching breath,
From the blinking of an eye and the exhale of a sigh
whose sparks within the entrails have no fire-stick.
That has embers between dignity that has no fire
فَيَاso O قَلْبُheart صَبْرَاًpatience إِنْif أَلَمَّdescends بِكَupon you النَّوَىseparation
فَيَا قَلْبُ صَبْرَاً إِنْ أَلَمَّ بِكَ النَّوَى
فَكُلُّfor every فِراقٍparting أَوْor تَلاقٍmeeting لَهُfor it حَدُّa limit
فَكُلُّ فِراقٍ أَوْ تَلاقٍ لَهُ حَدُّ
So patience, my heart, if separation besets you;
So O heart, be patient if the bier pained you
for every parting or meeting has its limit.
For every separation or meeting has an extent
فَقَدْfor sometimes يُشْعَبُare sundered الإِلْفَانِthe two intimates أَدْنَاهُمَاbrought them both close الْهَوَىlove
فَقَدْ يُشْعَبُ الإِلْفَانِ أَدْنَاهُمَا الْهَوَى
وَيَلْتَئِمُand are united الضِّدَّانِthe two opposites أَقْصَاهُمَاdrove them both apart الْحِقْدُhatred
وَيَلْتَئِمُ الضِّدَّانِ أَقْصَاهُمَا الْحِقْدُ
Two intimates whom love brought close may be sundered,
Passion may divide the closest two
and two foes whom hatred drove apart may unite.
And enmity may join the furthest two
عَلَىaccording to هَذِهِthis تَجْرِيproceed اللَّيَالِيthe nights بِحُكْمِهاby their decree
عَلَى هَذِهِ تَجْرِي اللَّيَالِي بِحُكْمِها
فَآوِنَةًso at times قُرْبٌnearness وَآوِنَةًand at times بُعْدُdistance
فَآوِنَةً قُرْبٌ وَآوِنَةً بُعْدُ
Thus the nights proceed according to their decree:
The nights flow according to their judgment
at times closeness, at times distance.
Once near, another time far
وماand not كُنْتُI was لَوْلاbut for الْحُبُّlove أَخْضَعُI submit لِلَّتيto her who
وما كُنْتُ لَوْلا الْحُبُّ أَخْضَعُ لِلَّتي
تُسِيءُdoes wrong وَلَكِنَّbut الْفَتَىa man لِلْهَوىto passion عَبْدُa slave
تُسِيءُ وَلَكِنَّ الْفَتَى لِلْهَوى عَبْدُ
But for love, I would never submit to her who
I would not have been submissive to she who
does wrong; yet a man is a slave to passion.
Does wrong, but the young man is enslaved to passion
فَعُودِيfor my timber صُلْبٌhard لاnot يَلِينُyields لِغَامِزٍto one who presses
فَعُودِي صُلْبٌ لا يَلِينُ لِغَامِزٍ
وَقَلْبِيَand my heart سَيْفٌa sword لاnot يُفَلُّis blunted لَهُits حَدُّedge
وَقَلْبِيَ سَيْفٌ لا يُفَلُّ لَهُ حَدُّ
For my timber is hard, unyielding to anyone who presses it,
So my determination does not soften to a critic
and my heart is a sword whose edge is never blunted.
And my heart is a sword that has no notched blade
إِبَاءٌunyielding pride كَمَاas شَاءَwilled الفَخَارُhonor وَصَبْوَةٌand passion
إِبَاءٌ كَمَا شَاءَ الفَخَارُ وَصَبْوَةٌ
يَذِلُّis humbled لَهَاbefore it فيin خِيسِهِhis thicket الأَسَدُthe lion الْوَرْدُtawny
يَذِلُّ لَهَا في خِيسِهِ الأَسَدُ الْوَرْدُ
Unbending pride, just as honor would wish, and a passion
Refusal, as the potter willed, and bravery
that humbles the tawny lion in his thicket.
That the meek lion lowers to
وَإِنَّاand we are أُنَاسٌa people لَيْسَthere is not فِينَاamong us مَعَابَةٌa fault
وَإِنَّا أُنَاسٌ لَيْسَ فِينَا مَعَابَةٌ
سِوَىexcept أَنَّthat وادِينَاour valley بِحُكْمِby the decree of الْهَوَىpassion نَجْدُNajd
سِوَى أَنَّ وادِينَا بِحُكْمِ الْهَوَى نَجْدُ
We are a people with no fault among us,
We are people with no disgrace
except that, by passion's decree, our valley is Najd.
Except that our valley judges with passion, we help
نَلِينُwe soften وإِنْeven though كُنَّاwe are أَشِدَّاءَmighty لِلْهَوَىbefore passion
نَلِينُ وإِنْ كُنَّا أَشِدَّاءَ لِلْهَوَى
وَنَغْضَبُand we grow angry فيover شَرْوَىthe equivalent of نَقِيرٍa date-stone's speck فَنَشْتَدُّthen we grow fierce
وَنَغْضَبُ في شَرْوَى نَقِيرٍ فَنَشْتَدُّ
We soften before passion, though we are mighty,
We soften even if we are firm with passion
and rage over a date-stone's speck, then grow fierce.
We rage in the neighing of a stallion and become severe
وَحَسْبُكَand sufficient for you مِنَّاfrom us شِيمَةٌa temperament عَرَبِيَّةٌArab
وَحَسْبُكَ مِنَّا شِيمَةٌ عَرَبِيَّةٌ
هِيَit is الْخَمْرُwine مَاas long as لَمْnot يَأْتِcomes مِنْfrom دُونِهاbefore it حَرْدُwrath
هِيَ الْخَمْرُ مَا لَمْ يَأْتِ مِنْ دُونِها حَرْدُ
An Arab temperament in us is enough for you:
It is enough that you know our Arab nature
it is wine, unless wrath intervenes.
It is wine, if turpentine does not come without it
وَبِيand in me ظَمأٌa thirst لَمْnot يَبْلُغِhas reached الْماءُwater رِيَّهُits quenching
وَبِي ظَمأٌ لَمْ يَبْلُغِ الْماءُ رِيَّهُ
وَفِيand in النَّفْسِthe soul أَمْرٌan aim لَيْسَnot يُدْرِكُهُattains it الْجَهْدُeffort
وَفِي النَّفْسِ أَمْرٌ لَيْسَ يُدْرِكُهُ الْجَهْدُ
I bear a thirst whose quenching water cannot reach,
I have a thirst that water does not quench
and in my soul an aim that effort cannot attain.
And in the soul is a matter that effort cannot attain
أَوَدُّI wish وَماand not وُدُّthe wish of امْرِئٍa man نَافِعٌbeneficial لَهُto him
أَوَدُّ وَما وُدُّ امْرِئٍ نَافِعٌ لَهُ
وإِنْeven if كانَhe is ذَاpossessed of عَقْلٍreason إِذَاif لمnot يَكُنْthere is جَدُّgood fortune
وإِنْ كانَ ذَا عَقْلٍ إِذَا لم يَكُنْ جَدُّ
I wish—but a man's wishing does not profit him,
I love, and the love of a man does not benefit him
even if he is wise, when good fortune is absent.
If he has intellect, when he has no seriousness
وَمَاand not بِيَin me مِنْany فَقْرٍneed لِدُنْيَاfor worldly riches وإِنَّمَاbut only
وَمَا بِيَ مِنْ فَقْرٍ لِدُنْيَا وإِنَّمَا
طِلابُseeking الْعُلاeminence مَجْدٌglory وإِنْeven though كَانَthere is لِيfor me مَجْدُglory
طِلابُ الْعُلا مَجْدٌ وإِنْ كَانَ لِي مَجْدُ
It is no need of worldly riches that troubles me; rather,
I have no poverty of worldly things, but
the pursuit of eminence is glory, though glory is already mine.
Seeking the heights is glory, even if I have glory
وَكَمْand how many مِنْof يَدٍa favor لِلَّهِfrom God عِنْدِيwith me وَنِعْمَةٍand a blessing
وَكَمْ مِنْ يَدٍ لِلَّهِ عِنْدِي وَنِعْمَةٍ
يَعَضُّbites عَلَيْهَاbecause of it كَفَّهُhis hand الْحاسِدُthe envier الْوَغْدُbase
يَعَضُّ عَلَيْهَا كَفَّهُ الْحاسِدُ الْوَغْدُ
How many favors and blessings God has granted me,
How many gifts I have from God
for which the base envier bites his hand!
That the envious malignant person bites his hand over
أَنَاI am الْمَرْءُthe man لاnot يُطْغِيهِmakes him arrogant عِزٌّprestige لِثَرْوَةٍfrom wealth
أَنَا الْمَرْءُ لا يُطْغِيهِ عِزٌّ لِثَرْوَةٍ
أَصَابَhe acquired وَلاnor يُلْوِيwarps بِأَخْلاقِهِhis character الْكَدُّhardship
أَصَابَ وَلا يُلْوِي بِأَخْلاقِهِ الْكَدُّ
I am a man whom prestige from wealth cannot make arrogant—
I am the man whom wealth does not make arrogant
wealth he has gained—nor does hardship warp his character.
Nor does hardship curve his morals
أَصُدُّI turn away عَنِfrom الْمَوفُورِabundant wealth يُدْرِكُهُovertakes it الْخَنَاdisgrace
أَصُدُّ عَنِ الْمَوفُورِ يُدْرِكُهُ الْخَنَا
وَأَقْنَعُand I am content بِالْمَيْسُورِwith what is available يَعْقُبُهُfollows it الْحَمْدُpraise
وَأَقْنَعُ بِالْمَيْسُورِ يَعْقُبُهُ الْحَمْدُ
I turn from abundant riches tainted by disgrace,
My trait is loving loyalty innately
and am content with available means followed by praise.
What good is a heart that has no lasting pact
وَمَنْand whoever كَانَis ذَاpossessed of نَفْسٍa soul كَنَفْسِيlike my soul تَصَدَّعَتْsplit asunder
وَمَنْ كَانَ ذَا نَفْسٍ كَنَفْسِي تَصَدَّعَتْ
لِعِزَّتِهِbefore his might الدُّنْيَاthe world وذَلَّتْand bowed لَهُto him الأُسْدُthe lions
لِعِزَّتِهِ الدُّنْيَا وذَلَّتْ لَهُ الأُسْدُ
For anyone whose soul is like mine, the world splits
But brothers in Egypt and companions
before his might, and lions bow to him.
Who forgot us, no promise or oath from them
وَمَنْand among شِيَمِيmy traits حُبُّlove of الْوَفاءِfaithfulness سَجِيَّةًby nature
وَمَنْ شِيَمِي حُبُّ الْوَفاءِ سَجِيَّةً
وَماand what خَيْرُgood is قَلْبٍa heart لاnot يَدُومُendures لَهُfor it عَهْدُa pledge
وَما خَيْرُ قَلْبٍ لا يَدُومُ لَهُ عَهْدُ
Among my traits is an inborn love of faithfulness;
I yearn for them in longing, though between us
what good is a heart that keeps no lasting pledge?
Are aspirations that weary the closest of relatives
وَلَكِنَّbut إِخْوَاناًbrothers بِمِصْرَin Egypt وَرُفْقَةًand companions
وَلَكِنَّ إِخْوَاناً بِمِصْرَ وَرُفْقَةً
نَسُونَاforgot us فَلاso no عَهْدٌpledge لَدَيْهِمْwith them ولاnor وَعْدُpromise
نَسُونَا فَلا عَهْدٌ لَدَيْهِمْ ولا وَعْدُ
Yet brothers and companions in Egypt
So O dwellers of Fustat, what is with our letters
have forgotten us; they keep neither pledge nor promise.
Lying with you a month without response?
أَحِنُّI yearn لَهُمْfor them شَوْقاًwith longing عَلَىdespite أَنَّthat دُونَنَاbetween us
أَحِنُّ لَهُمْ شَوْقاً عَلَى أَنَّ دُونَنَا
مَهامِهَwildernesses تَعْيَاgrow weary دُونَshort of أَقْرَبِهاthe nearest of them الرُّبْدُdusky ostriches
مَهامِهَ تَعْيَا دُونَ أَقْرَبِها الرُّبْدُ
I yearn for them with longing, though between us lie
Is it true that we remember your pact
wildernesses whose nearest reaches exhaust the dusky ostriches.
While you have no kindness towards us?
فَيَاso O ساكِنِيdwellers of الْفُسطَاطِal-Fustat ماwhat بالُis the matter with كُتْبِنَاour letters
فَيَا ساكِنِي الْفُسطَاطِ ما بالُ كُتْبِنَا
ثَوَتْstayed عِنْدَكُمْwith you شَهْراًa month وَلَيْسَand there is no لهاfor them رَدُّreply
ثَوَتْ عِنْدَكُمْ شَهْراً وَلَيْسَ لها رَدُّ
O dwellers of al-Fustat, why have our letters
So no harm, God will bring about a return
lain with you a month without reply?
That is easy after communication is cut off
أَفِيis it in الْحَقِّwhat is right أَنَّاthat we ذاكِرُونَremembering لِعَهْدِكُمْof your bond
أَفِي الْحَقِّ أَنَّا ذاكِرُونَ لِعَهْدِكُمْ
وَأَنْتُمْwhile you عَلَيْنَاtoward us لَيْسَnot يَعْطِفُكُمْinclines you وُدُّaffection
وَأَنْتُمْ عَلَيْنَا لَيْسَ يَعْطِفُكُمْ وُدُّ
Is it right that we remember our bond with you,
May God reward well whoever rewards me with its like
while no affection inclines you toward us?
In misery, the prime of life flows with it
فَلاso no ضَيْرَharm إِنَّindeed اللهGod يُعْقِبُbrings about عَوْدَةًa return
فَلا ضَيْرَ إِنَّ الله يُعْقِبُ عَوْدَةً
يَهُونُbecomes slight لَهَاbecause of it بَعْدَafter الْمُواصَلَةِreunion الصَّدُّrejection
يَهُونُ لَهَا بَعْدَ الْمُواصَلَةِ الصَّدُّ
No harm: God will bring a return
I spend the night remembering you in it, tossing and turning
that, after reunion, will make rejection seem slight.
As if I am well or the roses turned towards it
جَزَىmay reward اللهُGod خَيْرَاًwith good مَنْwhoever جَزانِيrepaid me بِمِثْلِهِwith its like
جَزَى اللهُ خَيْرَاً مَنْ جَزانِي بِمِثْلِهِ
عَلَىin شُقَّةٍa distant tract غَزْرُabundance of الحَيَاةِlife بِهَاthere ثَمْدُscant water
عَلَى شُقَّةٍ غَزْرُ الحَيَاةِ بِهَا ثَمْدُ
May God reward with good whoever has repaid me in kind,
So do not think me heedless of your affection
in a distant tract where life's abundance is a trickle.
Going slowly, in my mind there is no uncaring stone
أَبِيتُI spend the night لِذكْراكُمْat the thought of you بِهاthere مُتَمَلْمِلاًrestless
أَبِيتُ لِذكْراكُمْ بِها مُتَمَلْمِلاً
كَأَنِّيas if I were سَلِيمٌsnakebitten أَوْor مَشَتْcrept نَحْوَهُtoward him الْوِرْدُrecurring fever
كَأَنِّي سَلِيمٌ أَوْ مَشَتْ نَحْوَهُ الْوِرْدُ
There I pass the night restless with thoughts of you,
It is love, not turned away by distance, and perhaps
as if snakebitten, or stalked by recurring fever.
It softly sighs from the touch of separation
فَلاso do not تَحْسَبُونِيthink me غَافِلاًheedless عَنْof وِدَادِكُمْyour affection
فَلا تَحْسَبُونِي غَافِلاً عَنْ وِدَادِكُمْ
رُوَيداًgently فَمَاfor no فِيin مُهْجَتِيmy heart حَجَرٌstone صَلْدُhard
رُوَيداً فَمَا فِي مُهْجَتِي حَجَرٌ صَلْدُ
Do not think me heedless of your affection;
An estrangement came between you and me and frowned
gently—there is no hard stone in my heart.
At my face, its nature is wretchedness
هُوَit is الْحُبُّlove لاnot يَثْنِيهِturns it aside نَأْيٌdistance وَرُبَّماand sometimes
هُوَ الْحُبُّ لا يَثْنِيهِ نَأْيٌ وَرُبَّما
تَأَرَّجَgrew fragrant مِنْfrom مَسِّthe touch of الضِّرَامِflame لَهُupon it النَّدُّincense
تَأَرَّجَ مِنْ مَسِّ الضِّرَامِ لَهُ النَّدُّ
It is love; distance cannot turn it aside, and sometimes
I look around, I do not see anything but a nation
incense grows fragrant at the touch of flame.
Of blond heads in the Balkans, missed by number
نَأَتْcarried far بِيَme عَنْكُمْfrom you غُرْبَةٌexile وتَجَهَّمَتْand scowled
نَأَتْ بِيَ عَنْكُمْ غُرْبَةٌ وتَجَهَّمَتْ
بِوَجْهِيَin my face أَيَّامٌdays خَلائِقُهَاtheir dispositions نُكْدُharsh
بِوَجْهِيَ أَيَّامٌ خَلائِقُهَا نُكْدُ
Exile has borne me far from you, and scowling
Vagrants on the ridge of mountains for a raid
in my face are days of bitter temper.
The light of dawn chases it when it appears
أَدُورُI turn بِعَيْنِيwith my gaze لاnot أَرَىI see غَيْرَother than أُمَّةٍa host
أَدُورُ بِعَيْنِي لا أَرَى غَيْرَ أُمَّةٍ
مِنَof الرُّوسِthe Russians بِالْبَلْقَانِin the Balkans يُخْطِئُهَاfails to number them الْعَدُّcounting
مِنَ الرُّوسِ بِالْبَلْقَانِ يُخْطِئُهَا الْعَدُّ
I sweep my gaze around and see nothing but a host
When we walk, evil proclaims its name
of Russians in the Balkans, beyond all counting,
And the warrior shouts death and the army draws swords
جَوَاثٍcrouching عَلَىon هَامِthe summits of الْجِبَالِthe mountains لِغَارَةٍfor a raid
جَوَاثٍ عَلَى هَامِ الْجِبَالِ لِغَارَةٍ
يَطِيرُflies بِهَاwith it ضَوْءُthe light of الصَّبَاحِmorning إِذَاwhen يَبْدُوit appears
يَطِيرُ بِهَا ضَوْءُ الصَّبَاحِ إِذَا يَبْدُو
crouched on mountain summits for a raid
So you see between the two crowds a battlefield
that morning's light sets flying as it appears.
In which the brave curly-haired man speaks to himself
إِذَاwhen نَحْنُwe سِرْنَاmarched صَرَّحَdeclared openly الشَّرُّevil بِاسْمِهِby its name
إِذَا نَحْنُ سِرْنَا صَرَّحَ الشَّرُّ بِاسْمِهِ
وَصَاحَand cried out الْقَنَاthe spears بِالْمَوْتِwith death واسْتَقْتَلَand courted death الْجُنْدُthe troops
وَصَاحَ الْقَنَا بِالْمَوْتِ واسْتَقْتَلَ الْجُنْدُ
When we march, evil openly declares its name,
On the ground, from it, streams of blood
the spears cry death, and the troops court death.
And above, from its oozing, stars spill
فَأَنْتَso you تَرَىsee بَيْنَbetween الْفَرِيقَيْنِthe two hosts كَبَّةًa fierce mêlée
فَأَنْتَ تَرَى بَيْنَ الْفَرِيقَيْنِ كَبَّةً
يُحَدِّثُtalks to فيهاwithin it نَفْسَهُhimself الْبَطَلُthe champion الْجَعْدُsturdy
يُحَدِّثُ فيها نَفْسَهُ الْبَطَلُ الْجَعْدُ
You see between the two hosts a furious mêlée,
When they engage, or the march retreats, I see them
where the sturdy champion talks to himself.
As successive seas between ebb and flow
عَلَىon الأَرْضِthe earth مِنْهاfrom it بِالدِّمَاءِwith blood جَدَاوِلٌstreams
عَلَى الأَرْضِ مِنْها بِالدِّمَاءِ جَدَاوِلٌ
وَفَوْقَand above سَرَاةِthe heights of النَّجْمِthe stars مِنْof نَقْعِهَاits dust لِبْدُmatted masses
وَفَوْقَ سَرَاةِ النَّجْمِ مِنْ نَقْعِهَا لِبْدُ
From it, streams of blood run over the earth,
We make them drink the drought of thirst
and above the stars' crests rise thick mats of its dust.
The defiance of quenching and the teasing of the vineyard
إِذَاwhen اشْتَبَكُواthey clash أَوْor رَاجَعُواthey renew الزَّحْفَthe advance خِلْتَهُمْyou would think them
إِذَا اشْتَبَكُوا أَوْ رَاجَعُوا الزَّحْفَ خِلْتَهُمْ
بُحُوراًseas تَوَالَىalternated بَيْنَهاbetween them الْجَزْرُthe ebb والْمَدُّand the flow
بُحُوراً تَوَالَى بَيْنَها الْجَزْرُ والْمَدُّ
When they clash or renew the advance, you would think them
So they are between a dead body laying still, a fugitive
seas between which ebb and flow succeed each other.
Wandering, a captive pulled by armor
نَشُلُّهُمُwe drive them off شَلَّthe driving of الْعِطَاشِthe thirsty beasts وَنَتْwearied بِهَاthem
نَشُلُّهُمُ شَلَّ الْعِطَاشِ وَنَتْ بِهَا
مُرَاغَمَةُthe struggle for السُّقْيَاdrinking water وَمَاطَلَهَاand delayed them الْوِرْدُthe watering
مُرَاغَمَةُ السُّقْيَا وَمَاطَلَهَا الْوِرْدُ
We drive them like thirsty beasts, worn down
We go to council when dusk falls
by the struggle to drink, their turn at water delayed.
And we attack them with deaths when we attack
فَهُمْso they are بَيْنَbetween مَقْتُولٍone slain طَرِيحٍsprawled وَهَارِبٍand one fleeing
فَهُمْ بَيْنَ مَقْتُولٍ طَرِيحٍ وَهَارِبٍ
طَلِيحٍexhausted وَمَأْسُورٍand a captive يُجَاذِبُهُtugs at him الْقِدُّthe rawhide thong
طَلِيحٍ وَمَأْسُورٍ يُجَاذِبُهُ الْقِدُّ
They are either slain and sprawled, or fleeing
And drizzling like the darkness of the sea I stirred up its clouds
exhausted, or captives struggling with rawhide bonds.
With no refuge but blades and coats of mail
نَرُوحُwe go at evening إِلَىto الشُّورَىcounsel إِذَاwhen أَقْبَلَapproaches الدُّجَىdarkness
نَرُوحُ إِلَى الشُّورَى إِذَا أَقْبَلَ الدُّجَى
وَنَغْدُوand we march at dawn عَلَيْهِمْagainst them بِالمَنَايَاwith deaths إِذَاwhen نَغْدُوwe march at dawn
وَنَغْدُو عَلَيْهِمْ بِالمَنَايَا إِذَا نَغْدُو
We turn to counsel when darkness approaches,
I endured it while death sometimes turned red
and when we march at dawn, we march against them with death.
And sometimes melted into the darkness so it blackened
وَنَقْعٍand many a dust cloud كَلُجِّlike the depths of الْبَحْرِthe sea خُضْتُI plunged into غِمَارَهُits depths
وَنَقْعٍ كَلُجِّ الْبَحْرِ خُضْتُ غِمَارَهُ
ولاand no مَعْقِلٌrefuge إِلَّاexcept الْمَنَاصِلُthe sword blades وَالْجُرْدُand sleek steeds
ولا مَعْقِلٌ إِلَّا الْمَنَاصِلُ وَالْجُرْدُ
Many a dust cloud like the sea's depths have I plunged into,
I was none but the lion aroused by the trail
with no refuge but sword blades and sleek steeds.
And none but the sword separated from its sheath
صَبَرْتُI stood firm لَهُagainst it والْمَوْتُwhile death يَحْمَرُّreddens تَارَةًat times
صَبَرْتُ لَهُ والْمَوْتُ يَحْمَرُّ تَارَةً
وَيَنْغَلُّand burrows طَوْراًat other times فِيin الْعَجَاجِthe dust فَيَسْوَدُّso it turns black
وَيَنْغَلُّ طَوْراً فِي الْعَجَاجِ فَيَسْوَدُّ
I stood firm in it while death reddened at times,
Roaring, and for the heroes a whisper from weakness
and at others burrowed into the dust and turned black.
Galloping, while the heart of the spear in his chest runs
فَمَاso not كُنْتُI was إِلَّاbut اللَّيْثَthe lion أَنْهَضَهُroused it الطَّوَىhunger
فَمَا كُنْتُ إِلَّا اللَّيْثَ أَنْهَضَهُ الطَّوَى
ومَاand not كُنْتُI was إِلَّاbut السَّيْفَthe sword فَارَقَهُleft it الْغِمْدُthe sheath
ومَا كُنْتُ إِلَّا السَّيْفَ فَارَقَهُ الْغِمْدُ
I was nothing but the lion roused by hunger,
No mind except that my spear is its conscience
and nothing but the sword parted from its sheath,
No courage except that my sword has its knot
صَؤُولٌfierce in attack وَلِلأَبْطَالِwhile the champions have هَمْسٌa whisper مِنَfrom الْوَنَىexhaustion
صَؤُولٌ وَلِلأَبْطَالِ هَمْسٌ مِنَ الْوَنَى
ضَرُوبٌmighty in striking وقَلْبُwhile the heart of الْقِرْنِthe adversary فيin صَدْرِهِhis chest يَعْدُوraces
ضَرُوبٌ وقَلْبُ الْقِرْنِ في صَدْرِهِ يَعْدُو
fierce in attack while heroes whisper from exhaustion,
Not all who strive attain their soul's request
striking hard while my adversary's heart races in his chest.
Nor does guidance accompany every seeker
فَمَاso no مُهْجَةٌheart إِلَّاexcept وَرُمْحِيand my spear ضَمِيرُهَاits hidden core
فَمَا مُهْجَةٌ إِلَّا وَرُمْحِي ضَمِيرُهَا
ولاand no لَبَّةٌhollow of the throat إِلَّاexcept وَسَيْفِيand my sword لَهَاfor it عِقْدُa necklace
ولا لَبَّةٌ إِلَّا وَسَيْفِي لَهَا عِقْدُ
No heart but has my spear lodged inside it,
If the heart does not support you in every position
nor any throat but wears my sword as its necklace.
Then the sword is but a carried instrument
وَمَاand not كُلُّevery ساعٍstriver بَالِغٌattaining سُؤْلَthe desire of نَفْسِهِhis soul
وَمَا كُلُّ ساعٍ بَالِغٌ سُؤْلَ نَفْسِهِ
وَلاand not كُلُّevery طَلاَّبٍpersistent seeker يُصَاحِبُهُaccompanies him الرُّشْدُsound judgment
وَلا كُلُّ طَلاَّبٍ يُصَاحِبُهُ الرُّشْدُ
Not every striver attains his soul's desire,
If the outcome of everything, even if pure
nor does sound judgment accompany every seeker.
Is annihilation, then the hated annihilation is eternity
إِذَاif الْقَلْبُthe heart لَمْnot يَنْصُرْكَsupports you فِيin كُلِّevery مَوْطِنٍsituation
إِذَا الْقَلْبُ لَمْ يَنْصُرْكَ فِي كُلِّ مَوْطِنٍ
فَمَاthen not السَّيْفُthe sword إِلَّاbut آلَةٌa tool حَمْلُهَاcarrying it إِدُّa grievous burden
فَمَا السَّيْفُ إِلَّا آلَةٌ حَمْلُهَا إِدُّ
If your heart does not support you in every situation,
And immortalizing one's mention after death
a sword is only a tool whose carrying is a grievous burden.
Is life for him, no death reaches it afterward
إِذَاif كَانَis عُقْبَىthe end of كُلِّevery شَيءٍthing وَإِنْeven if زَكَاit flourishes
إِذَا كَانَ عُقْبَى كُلِّ شَيءٍ وَإِنْ زَكَا
فَنَاءٌperishing فَمَكْرُوهُthen the dreaded الْفَنَاءِperishing هُوَis الْخُلْدُimmortality
فَنَاءٌ فَمَكْرُوهُ الْفَنَاءِ هُوَ الْخُلْدُ
If the end of everything, however much it flourishes,
So why does man fear the evil of his day
is perishing, then dreaded perishing is immortality itself.
While in his tomorrow is what its occurrence is inevitable?
وَتَخْلِيدُand immortalizing ذِكْرِthe memory of الْمَرءِa man بَعْدَafter وَفاتِهِhis death
وَتَخْلِيدُ ذِكْرِ الْمَرءِ بَعْدَ وَفاتِهِ
حَيَاةٌlife لَهُfor him لاno مَوْتَdeath يَلْحَقُهاovertakes it بَعْدُafterward
حَيَاةٌ لَهُ لا مَوْتَ يَلْحَقُها بَعْدُ
And preserving a man's remembrance after his death
To spite me, let the envious boil in rage, for I
is life for him, untouched by any later death.
Am sulphur to their nostrils and fire to their livers, kindled
فَفِيمَso why يَخَافُfears الْمَرْءُa man سَوْرَةَthe fury of يَوْمِهِhis day
فَفِيمَ يَخَافُ الْمَرْءُ سَوْرَةَ يَوْمِهِ
وفيwhile in غَدِهِhis tomorrow ماwhat لَيْسَthere is no مِنْfrom وَقْعِهِits befalling بُدُّescape
وفي غَدِهِ ما لَيْسَ مِنْ وَقْعِهِ بُدُّ
Why, then, should a man fear the fury of his day,
I am the praised speaker without any insult
when his tomorrow holds what must inevitably befall?
And of the merit of nobility, enmity and opposition
لِيَضْنَlet waste away بِيَbecause of me الْحُسَّادُthe envious غَيْظاًwith rage فَإِنَّنِيfor I am
لِيَضْنَ بِيَ الْحُسَّادُ غَيْظاً فَإِنَّنِي
لِآنافِهِمْto their noses رَغْمٌhumiliation وَأَكْبَادِهِمْand to their livers وَقْدُa blaze
لِآنافِهِمْ رَغْمٌ وَأَكْبَادِهِمْ وَقْدُ
Let the envious waste away with rage at me, for I am
So a man may envy his own son, and he himself
humiliation to their noses, and fire in their livers.
While an armlet may constrict the arm that carries it
أَنَاI am القائِلُthe speaker الْمَحْمُودُpraised مِنْwith غَيْرِno سُبَّةٍreproach
أَنَا القائِلُ الْمَحْمُودُ مِنْ غَيْرِ سُبَّةٍ
وَمِنْand among شِيمَةِthe traits of الْفَضْلِexcellence الْعَدَاوَةُenmity وَالضَّدُّand opposition
وَمِنْ شِيمَةِ الْفَضْلِ الْعَدَاوَةُ وَالضَّدُّ
I am the speaker praised without reproach,
I still remain envied for glory and greatness
and enmity and opposition attend excellence.
And no man envied has a peer
فَقَدْfor sometimes يَحْسُدُenvies الْمَرْءُa man ابْنَهُhis son وَهْوَthough he is نَفْسُهُhis very self
فَقَدْ يَحْسُدُ الْمَرْءُ ابْنَهُ وَهْوَ نَفْسُهُ
وَرُبَّand many a سِوَارٍbracelet ضَاقَwas too slight عَنْfor حَمْلِهِbearing it الْعَضْدُthe upper arm
وَرُبَّ سِوَارٍ ضَاقَ عَنْ حَمْلِهِ الْعَضْدُ
A man may envy his son, though he is his very self,
and many a bracelet is more than the upper arm can bear.
فَلاso may not زِلْتُI cease to be مَحْسُوداًenvied عَلَىfor الْمَجْدِglory والْعُلاand eminence
فَلا زِلْتُ مَحْسُوداً عَلَى الْمَجْدِ والْعُلا
فَلَيْسَfor not بِمَحْسُودٍenvied فَتىًa man ولَهُwhile he has نِدُّan equal
فَلَيْسَ بِمَحْسُودٍ فَتىً ولَهُ نِدُّ
May I remain envied for glory and eminence,
for a man who has a peer is not envied.
Partial English translation: 122 of 126 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1