سَلَامُpeace اللهِof God، لِيfor me دَمْعٌtears عَجُوزٌaged
سَلَامُ اللهِ، لِي دَمْعٌ عَجُوزٌ
أُبَعْثِرُهُI scatter them عَلَىupon وَرَقِpaper الشَّتَاتِdispersal
أُبَعْثِرُهُ عَلَى وَرَقِ الشَّتَاتِ
God's peace! I have aged tears,
God's peace, I have ancient tears
I scatter them across the pages of dispersal.
I scatter on the leaves of discord
وَلِيand for me الْأَيَّامُthe days طَعْمُthe taste الْمَوْتِof death فِيهَاin them
وَلِي الْأَيَّامُ طَعْمُ الْمَوْتِ فِيهَا
وَلِيand for me الْأَشْعَارُpoems بُسْتَانُthe garden الْغُوَاةِof the wayward
وَلِي الْأَشْعَارُ بُسْتَانُ الْغُوَاةِ
And for me, the days hold the taste of death;
And I have days with the taste of death in them
And for me, poems are the garden of the wayward.
And I have poems, the gardens of rebels
أُطِيحُI overthrow بِكُلِّevery مَمْلَكَةٍkingdom وَحُكْمٍand rule
أُطِيحُ بِكُلِّ مَمْلَكَةٍ وَحُكْمٍ
وَأَنْشُرُand I spread أَنَّتِيmy groan بِفَمِthrough the mouth الرُّوَاةِof the narrators
وَأَنْشُرُ أَنَّتِي بِفَمِ الرُّوَاةِ
I overthrow every kingdom and rule,
I topple every kingdom and government
And spread my groan through the mouths of narrators.
And spread my sorrow through the mouths of narrators
أَجُولُI roam عَلَىupon سَحَائِبِthe clouds بَعْضِof some of ظَنِّيmy conjecture
أَجُولُ عَلَى سَحَائِبِ بَعْضِ ظَنِّي
وَأُعْطِيand I give الشِّعْرَpoetry نَصًّاa text مِنْfrom حَيَاتِيmy life
وَأُعْطِي الشِّعْرَ نَصًّا مِنْ حَيَاتِي
I roam upon the clouds of some of my conjectures,
I wander on some clouds of my suspicion
And give poetry a text from my life.
And give poetry a text from my life
كَثَيْرُmuch الظَّنِsupposition أنَّthat الشَّعْرَpoetry يُجْدِيis of use
كَثَيْرُ الظَّنِ أنَّ الشَّعْرَ يُجْدِي
إذَاwhen اتَّصَفَتْare characterized بِهِby it بَعْضُsome of الْعُصَاةِthe disobedient
إذَا اتَّصَفَتْ بِهِ بَعْضُ الْعُصَاةِ
I often think that poetry is of use,
Like many suspicions that poetry is useful
When some of the disobedient are marked by it.
If some rebels are characterized by it
وَكُلُّand all الشِّعْرِpoetry مَوْصُولٌlinked بِهَمِّto sorrow
وَكُلُّ الشِّعْرِ مَوْصُولٌ بِهَمِّ
وَبَعْضُand some الشِّعْرِpoetry مَوْثُوقٌbound fast بِآتِto what is coming
وَبَعْضُ الشِّعْرِ مَوْثُوقٌ بِآتِ
And all poetry is linked to sorrow,
And all poetry is connected with anxiety
And some poetry is bound to what is to come.
Some poetry is tied to the future
أَرَاهَI see it الْيَوْمَtoday فِيin قَوْلٍan utterance شَرِيدٍstray
أَرَاهَ الْيَوْمَ فِي قَوْلٍ شَرِيدٍ
ضَعِيفِweak in النَّشْءِgrowth مَحْنِيِّbent in الصِّفَاتِqualities
ضَعِيفِ النَّشْءِ مَحْنِيِّ الصِّفَاتِ
I see it today in a stray utterance,
I see it today in stray words
Weak in growth, bent in its qualities.
Of weak growth and bent qualities
عَلَىon حَرْفٍan edge مِنَof الْأَيَّامِthe days سَهْوًاabsentmindedly
عَلَى حَرْفٍ مِنَ الْأَيَّامِ سَهْوًا
يَبِيعُsells الْمَرْءُa person أَحْلَامَthe dreams الدَّوَاةِof the inkwell!
يَبِيعُ الْمَرْءُ أَحْلَامَ الدَّوَاةِ!
On an edge of the days, absentmindedly,
On a letter of days inadvertently
One sells the dreams of the inkwell!
One sells the dreams of writers!
إذَاwhen مَاemphatic particle الْمَرْءُa person فَكَّرَthinks فِيof عَطَاءٍa gift
إذَا مَا الْمَرْءُ فَكَّرَ فِي عَطَاءٍ
يَذُوقُtastes الذَّلَhumiliation طَعْمًاa taste مِنْof فُتَاتِcrumbs
يَذُوقُ الذَّلَ طَعْمًا مِنْ فُتَاتِ
When one thinks of a gift,
When one thinks of a gift
One tastes humiliation—a taste of crumbs.
He tastes humiliation from crumbs
هِيَthey الْأَيَّامُthe days تَرْفُضُreject كُلَّall وِدٍّaffection
هِيَ الْأَيَّامُ تَرْفُضُ كُلَّ وِدٍّ
هِيَthey الْأَشْوَاكُthe thorns تُزْرَعُare planted بِالْقَنَاةِwith the spear
هِيَ الْأَشْوَاكُ تُزْرَعُ بِالْقَنَاةِ
The days—they reject all affection;
These are the days that reject all affection
They are the thorns planted with the spear.
It is the thorns planted in the canal
نَرُدُّwe ward off الْمَوْتَdeath عَنْfrom دَمْعٍtears عَجُوزٍaged
نَرُدُّ الْمَوْتَ عَنْ دَمْعٍ عَجُوزٍ
لَعَلَّperhaps الدَّمْعَthe tears مَوْفُورُrich in الْهِبَاتِgifts
لَعَلَّ الدَّمْعَ مَوْفُورُ الْهِبَاتِ
We ward death away from aged tears,
We ward off death from ancient tears
Perhaps the tears are rich in gifts.
Perhaps tears are abundant grants
سَلَامُpeace اللهِof God يَاO وَطَنًاhomeland تَعَافَىhas recovered
سَلَامُ اللهِ يَا وَطَنًا تَعَافَى
دَمُblood الْأَيَّامِof the days تَقْبِيلُkissing الطُّغَاةِof tyrants!
دَمُ الْأَيَّامِ تَقْبِيلُ الطُّغَاةِ!
God's peace, O homeland restored to health,
God's peace, O recovering homeland
The blood of days is the kissing of tyrants!
The blood of days is the kiss of tyrants!
لَنَاfor us الْأَحْلَامُthe dreams لَوْif only تَصْفُوrun clear عُرُوقٌveins
لَنَا الْأَحْلَامُ لَوْ تَصْفُو عُرُوقٌ
يُخَالِطُmingles with نَبْضَهَاtheir pulse لَيْلُthe night الْفَوَاتِof missed chances
يُخَالِطُ نَبْضَهَا لَيْلُ الْفَوَاتِ
Dreams are ours, if only veins would run clear,
We have dreams if pure veins
Whose pulse is mingled with the night of missed chances.
Its pulse mingles with the night of demise
عَلَىabove الْأَحْلَامِthe dreams طَيْرٌa bird مُسْتَبِدٌّtyrannical
عَلَى الْأَحْلَامِ طَيْرٌ مُسْتَبِدٌّ
يُشَرِّعُit legislates حُلْمَنَاour dream تَحْتَbeneath الْوُلَاةِthe rulers
يُشَرِّعُ حُلْمَنَا تَحْتَ الْوُلَاةِ
Above the dreams is a tyrannical bird,
Over dreams a tyrannical bird
It legislates our dream beneath the rulers.
That legalizes our dream under rulers
أَبَتْit denied لِلْحُلْمِto the dream مُتَّسَعًاan expanse فَسِيْحًاspacious
أَبَتْ لِلْحُلْمِ مُتَّسَعًا فَسِيْحًا
وَإِنَّand indeed الْحُلْمَthe dream بَابُthe gate الْمُعْجِزَاتِof miracles
وَإِنَّ الْحُلْمَ بَابُ الْمُعْجِزَاتِ
It denied the dream a spacious expanse,
The dream refused a spacious expansion
And indeed, the dream is the gate of miracles.
And the dream is the door of miracles
أَرَىI see لِلْحُلْمِfor the dream أَصْلًاa root مُسْتَنِيْرًاluminous
أَرَى لِلْحُلْمِ أَصْلًا مُسْتَنِيْرًا
يُكَمِّلُit completes شَكْلَهُits form مِنْfrom نَيِّرَاتِshining lights
يُكَمِّلُ شَكْلَهُ مِنْ نَيِّرَاتِ
I see a luminous root for the dream,
I see the dream has an enlightened origin
It completes its form from shining lights.
That completes its form from rays
يُرَاوِدُit woos شَكَّهُits doubt فِيin كُلِّevery عَيْنٍeye
يُرَاوِدُ شَكَّهُ فِي كُلِّ عَيْنٍ
كَأَنَّas though الشَّكَdoubt مَنْطُوْقُthe utterance اللُّغَاتِof languages
كَأَنَّ الشَّكَ مَنْطُوْقُ اللُّغَاتِ
It woos its doubt in every eye,
It seduces its doubt in every eye
As though doubt were the utterance of languages.
As if doubt is the spoken languages
إِذَنْthen سَنَعُودُwe shall return نَلْفُظُwe let out شَهْقَتَيْنِtwo gasps
إِذَنْ سَنَعُودُ نَلْفُظُ شَهْقَتَيْنِ
لَنَاfor us طَعْمُthe taste الْحَيَاةِof life لَكَالْمَمَاتِindeed like death
لَنَا طَعْمُ الْحَيَاةِ لَكَالْمَمَاتِ
Then we shall return, letting out two gasps;
So we will return to utter two sighs
For us, life's taste is indeed like death.
The taste of life is like death to us
نُبَرْهِنُwe prove إِنْif رَمَانَاshoots at us الْمَوْتُdeath سَهْمًاan arrow
نُبَرْهِنُ إِنْ رَمَانَا الْمَوْتُ سَهْمًا
بِأَنَّاthat we سَوْفَwill نُوْلَدُwe are born مِنْfrom رُفَاتِmortal remains
بِأَنَّا سَوْفَ نُوْلَدُ مِنْ رُفَاتِ
We shall prove, if death shoots an arrow at us,
We prove that if death struck us with an arrow
That we shall be born from mortal remains.
We will be reborn from the remains
سَأَرْشُفُI shall sip رَشْفَتَيْنِtwo sips: دَمًاblood وَخَمْرًاand wine
سَأَرْشُفُ رَشْفَتَيْنِ: دَمًا وَخَمْرًا
إِذَاwhen وُئِدَis buried alive الْحَنِينُlonging مِنَfrom الْحَيَاةِlife
إِذَا وُئِدَ الْحَنِينُ مِنَ الْحَيَاةِ
I shall take two sips: blood and wine,
I will sip two sips: blood and wine
When longing is buried alive, removed from life.
If yearning is suppressed from life
Sol 6.1