مَتَىwhen تَردُcome to water الْهِيمُthe parched camels الْخَوَامِسُdue for fifth-day watering مَنْهَلاًa watering place
مَتَى تَردُ الْهِيمُ الْخَوَامِسُ مَنْهَلاً
تَبُلُّmoisten بِهِwith it الأَكْبَادَthe livers وَهْيَwhile they are عِطَاشُthirsty
تَبُلُّ بِهِ الأَكْبَادَ وَهْيَ عِطَاشُ
When will the parched camels, due for their fifth-day watering, reach a watering place
When will this barren desert bloom,
To moisten their livers there, thirsty as they are?
And quench my thirsting liver’s thirst?
أَرَىI see الْغَيْثَthe rain عَمَّhas spread over الأَرْضَthe earth مِنْfrom كُلِّevery جَانِبٍside
أَرَى الْغَيْثَ عَمَّ الأَرْضَ مِنْ كُلِّ جَانِبٍ
وَمَوْضِعُand the place of رَحْلِيmy saddle لَمْhas not يُصِبْهُtouched it رَشَاشُa sprinkle
وَمَوْضِعُ رَحْلِي لَمْ يُصِبْهُ رَشَاشُ
I see the rain has covered the earth on every side,
The clouds rain down on every side,
Yet not a sprinkle has touched the place where my saddle rests.
But miss my small encampment’s site.
فَهَلْthen is there نَهْلَةٌa draught مِنْfrom جَدْوَلِthe stream of النِّيلِthe Nile تَرْتَوِيmay be quenched
فَهَلْ نَهْلَةٌ مِنْ جَدْوَلِ النِّيلِ تَرْتَوِي
بِهَاwith it كَبِدٌa liver ظَمْآنَةٌthirsty ومُشاشُand the bone ends
بِهَا كَبِدٌ ظَمْآنَةٌ ومُشاشُ
Is there, then, a draught from the Nile's stream to quench
Will Nile’s sweet brook my thirst allay,
A thirsty liver and the ends of the bones?
This parched liver’s thirst allay?
وَهَلْand is there مِنْany مَقِيلٍa noonday resting place تَحْتَbeneath أَفْنَانِthe boughs of سِدْرَةٍa lote tree
وَهَلْ مِنْ مَقِيلٍ تَحْتَ أَفْنَانِ سِدْرَةٍ
لَهَاfor it مِنْof زَرَابِيِّcarpets of النَّبَاتِvegetation فِراشُa bed
لَهَا مِنْ زَرَابِيِّ النَّبَاتِ فِراشُ
And is there any noonday resting place beneath a lote tree's boughs,
Is rest beneath the acacia’s shade,
With carpets of greenery for its bed,
Where soft green grass makes gentle bed?
لَدَىbeside أَيْكَةٍa grove رَيَّاwell-watered الْغُصُونِin its branches كَأَنَّماas though
لَدَى أَيْكَةٍ رَيَّا الْغُصُونِ كَأَنَّما
عَلَيْهَاupon it مِنَof الزَّهْرِthe blossoms الْجَنِيِّripe for picking رِياشُplumage
عَلَيْهَا مِنَ الزَّهْرِ الْجَنِيِّ رِياشُ
Beside a grove with well-watered branches, as though
Where boughs, as if a silken mantle spread
It wore plumage of fresh blossoms?
O’er her, the meadow flowers array?
تَرَىyou see الزَّهَرَthe blossoms أَلْوَاناًin many colors يَطِيرُflying مَعَwith الصَّبَاthe east wind
تَرَى الزَّهَرَ أَلْوَاناً يَطِيرُ مَعَ الصَّبَا
كَمَاjust as هَاجَstirred إِبَّانَin the season of الرَّبِيعِspring فَرَاشُbutterflies
كَمَا هَاجَ إِبَّانَ الرَّبِيعِ فَرَاشُ
You see blossoms of many colors flying with the east wind,
The petals in the breeze take flight,
As butterflies flutter in the season of spring.
As fledglings leave in spring’s delight,
دِيَارٌlands يَعِيشُlives الْمَرءُa person فِيهَاin them مُنَعَّمَاًin comfort
دِيَارٌ يَعِيشُ الْمَرءُ فِيهَا مُنَعَّمَاً
وَأَطْيَبُand the best of أَرْضِthe land of اللَّهِGod حَيْثُwhere يُعَاشُlife is lived
وَأَطْيَبُ أَرْضِ اللَّهِ حَيْثُ يُعَاشُ
Lands where one lives in comfort,
A land to live in pleasure and peace,
And the best of God's lands is where one can live.
The sweetest spot for man’s release!
فَيَاso, O رَبِّmy Lord رِشْنِيfeather me (provide for me) كَيْso that أَعِيشَI may live مُسَدَّداًrightly guided
فَيَا رَبِّ رِشْنِي كَيْ أَعِيشَ مُسَدَّداً
فَقَدْfor indeed يَسْتَقِيمُflies straight السَّهْمُthe arrow حِينَwhen يُرَاشُit is feathered
فَقَدْ يَسْتَقِيمُ السَّهْمُ حِينَ يُرَاشُ
So, O my Lord, feather me, that I may live rightly guided,
O Lord, so guide my steps aright,
For an arrow flies straight when it is feathered.
The straight arrow flies the best in flight.
Sol 6.1