وَفاؤُكُما كَالرَبعِ أَشجاهُ طاسِمُه

وَفاؤُكُما كَالرَبعِ أَشجاهُ طاسِمُه

بِأَن تُسعِدا وَالدَمعُ أَشفاهُ ساجِمُه

بِأَن تُسعِدا وَالدَمعُ أَشفاهُ ساجِمُه

Your loyalty, you two—like the campsite, whose effaced traces grieve most—

Your loyalty is like a spring whose branches the storm rends

Your loyalty is like the ruins, where the faintest traces bring the most grief,

is to join my lament; and tears soothe most when they stream.

That you may gladden me, though tears are my lips' inmates.

That you might aid me—yet the most healing tears are those that freely flow.

وَما أَنا إِلّا عاشِقٌ كُلُّ عاشِقٍ

وَما أَنا إِلّا عاشِقٌ كُلُّ عاشِقٍ

أَعَقُّ خَليلَيهِ الصَفِيَّينِ لائِمُه

أَعَقُّ خَليلَيهِ الصَفِيَّينِ لائِمُه

I am nothing but a lover; for every lover,

I'm but a lover; every lover is distraught,

I am but a lover, and for every lover,

the less faithful of his two devoted friends is the one who reproaches him.

Finding fault with his beloved and deciding to upbraid him.

The critic is the most unfaithful of friends.

وَقَد يَتَزَيّا بِالهَوى غَيرُ أَهلِهِ

وَقَد يَتَزَيّا بِالهَوى غَيرُ أَهلِهِ

وَيَستَصحِبُ الإِنسانُ مَن لا يُلائِمُه

وَيَستَصحِبُ الإِنسانُ مَن لا يُلائِمُه

One unfit for love may dress himself in its guise,

Another may make lover's pretense without being fit;

Pretenders may garb themselves in passion's guise, unworthy of its weight,

and a person may take as companion someone who does not suit him.

Man seeks out as companion him with whom he is intimate.

And a man may take for a companion one who suits him not.

بَليتُ بِلى الأَطلالِ إِن لَم أَقِف بِها

بَليتُ بِلى الأَطلالِ إِن لَم أَقِف بِها

وُقوفَ شَحيحٍ ضاعَ في التَربِ خاتَمُه

وُقوفَ شَحيحٍ ضاعَ في التَربِ خاتَمُه

May I decay as the ruins decay, if I do not stand beside them

I'm the abject one who, unless I halt at the ruins

May I decay like these ruins if I do not halt before them,

as a miser stands whose ring is lost in the dust.

Like a miser, will lose in the dust his ring of silver.

Standing as a miser stands who has lost his ring in the dust.

كَئيباً تَوَقّاني العَواذِلُ في الهَوى

كَئيباً تَوَقّاني العَواذِلُ في الهَوى

كَما يَتَوَقّى رَيِّضَ الخَيلِ حازِمُه

كَما يَتَوَقّى رَيِّضَ الخَيلِ حازِمُه

Grief-stricken, the women who reproach me in love keep clear of me,

Gazelles of unmixed strain turn from me in love,

Wretched am I; the critics shun me in my passion,

as a prudent handler avoids an unbroken horse.

As the trained steed shies from the unskilled rider when put to gallop.

Just as a prudent rider is wary of an unbroken steed.

قِفي تَغرَمِ الأَولى مِنَ اللَحظِ مُهجَتي

قِفي تَغرَمِ الأَولى مِنَ اللَحظِ مُهجَتي

بِثانِيَةٍ وَالمُتلِفُ الشَيءَ غارِمُه

بِثانِيَةٍ وَالمُتلِفُ الشَيءَ غارِمُه

Stop: let your first glance repay my life-blood

My eyes were smitten at first glance with your blow,

Halt, that my soul may pay the debt of the first glance,

with a second; whoever destroys a thing must make restitution.

Then taken captive by a second—he who takes all is a plunderer.

With a second look—for he who ruins a thing must pay the price.

سَقاكِ وَحَيّانا بِكِ اللَهُ إِنَّما

سَقاكِ وَحَيّانا بِكِ اللَهُ إِنَّما

عَلى العيسِ نورٌ وَالخُدورُ كَمائِمُه

عَلى العيسِ نورٌ وَالخُدورُ كَمائِمُه

May God water you and greet us through you; there are only

Heaven watered you with life that your freshness shine

May God water you with rain and grant us life through you; for behold,

blossoms upon the pale camels, and the curtained litters are their calyxes.

Like the morning-star's rays which the tent-pegs do not obscure.

Upon the white camels is a light, and the howdahs are its budding sheaths.

وَما حاجَةُ الأَظعانِ حَولَكِ في الدُجى

وَما حاجَةُ الأَظعانِ حَولَكِ في الدُجى

إِلى قَمَرٍ ما واجِدٌ لَكِ عادِمُه

إِلى قَمَرٍ ما واجِدٌ لَكِ عادِمُه

What need have the travelers around you in the darkness

What need for moonlight is there for the wild cows around you

What need have the journeying litters around you in the dark,

of a moon? Whoever has you does not lack one.

When dark comes? No moon is absent from you that seeks you.

Of any moon? For he who finds you lacks not the moonlight.

إِذا ظَفِرَت مِنكِ العُيونُ بِنَظرَةٍ

إِذا ظَفِرَت مِنكِ العُيونُ بِنَظرَةٍ

أَثابَ بِها مُعيِ المَطِيِّ وَرازِمُه

أَثابَ بِها مُعيِ المَطِيِّ وَرازِمُه

If the eyes gain a glimpse of you,

When eyes obtain a glance at you as reward

If the eyes should triumph by stealing a single glance from you,

through it the exhausted riding camels revive, even those unable to rise.

The wolf with his bashfulness ransom pays, and eagle swift to rapine.

Even the weary and groaning mount is revived by the reward.

حَبيبٌ كَأَنَّ الحُسنَ كانَ يُحِبُّهُ

حَبيبٌ كَأَنَّ الحُسنَ كانَ يُحِبُّهُ

فَآثَرَهُ أَو جارَ في الحُسنِ قاسِمُه

فَآثَرَهُ أَو جارَ في الحُسنِ قاسِمُه

A beloved whom Beauty itself seems to have loved

A darling whom Beauty loved, or vied with in beauty,

A beloved whom Beauty itself seems to adore,

and favored—or its distributor was unjust in apportioning beauty.

Or confided her secrets to, and chose for her distributer.

Choosing him above all—or perhaps the divider of beauty was unjust.

تَحولُ رِماحُ الخَطِّ دونَ سِبائِهِ

تَحولُ رِماحُ الخَطِّ دونَ سِبائِهِ

وَتُسبى لَهُ مِن كُلِّ حَيٍّ كَرائِمُه

وَتُسبى لَهُ مِن كُلِّ حَيٍّ كَرائِمُه

Spears of al-Khatt stand in the way of his capture,

Before his charms blades are blunted

The spears of Khatt stand guard against his capture,

while the noble women of every tribe are taken captive for him.

And to him as booty are led the noble virgins of every clan.

Yet for his sake, the precious souls of every tribe are taken captive.

وَيُضحي غُبارُ الخَيلِ أَدنى سُتورِهِ

وَيُضحي غُبارُ الخَيلِ أَدنى سُتورِهِ

وَآخِرُها نَشرُ الكِباءِ المُلازِمُه

وَآخِرُها نَشرُ الكِباءِ المُلازِمُه

By day, the dust of horses becomes the nearest of his veils,

The dust clouds of charging horse are but advance-guard to his approach;

The dust of horses becomes the nearest of his veils,

and the last is the fragrance of incense that clings to him.

The spreading of palm-leaves but final escort of his departure.

And the last is the fragrance of incense that clings to him.

وَما اِستَغرَبَت عَيني فِراقاً رَأَيتُهُ

وَما اِستَغرَبَت عَيني فِراقاً رَأَيتُهُ

وَلا عَلَّمَتني غَيرَ ما القَلبُ عالِمُه

وَلا عَلَّمَتني غَيرَ ما القَلبُ عالِمُه

My eye found no parting I witnessed unfamiliar,

Never did my eyes view parting before, though I saw it,

My eye found no strangeness in the parting that I witnessed,

nor taught me anything my heart did not already know.

Nor heart know aught but what the soul within it had taught it.

Nor did it teach me aught but what my heart already knew.

فَلا يَتَّهِمني الكاشِحونَ فَإِنَّني

فَلا يَتَّهِمني الكاشِحونَ فَإِنَّني

رَعَيتُ الرَدى حَتّى حَلَت لي عَلاقِمُه

رَعَيتُ الرَدى حَتّى حَلَت لي عَلاقِمُه

Let my enemies not suspect me, for I

Let not the censurers, then, blame me, for I have observed

Let not the spiteful accuse me of weakness, for I

have grazed on death until its bitter gourds grew sweet to me.

Patience till its alleys around me coil have twisted.

Have grazed in the pastures of death until its bitter fruits tasted sweet.

مُشِبُّ الَّذي يَبكي الشَبابَ مُشيبُهُ

مُشِبُّ الَّذي يَبكي الشَبابَ مُشيبُهُ

فَكَيفَ تَوَقّيهِ وَبانيهِ هادِمُه

فَكَيفَ تَوَقّيهِ وَبانيهِ هادِمُه

What made the man who mourns youth young is what makes him gray;

A griever weeps at the fading of youth's bloom,

He who makes the youth grow is the same who turns him gray;

how can he avoid it, when his builder is his destroyer?

How shall he avoid what destroys and demolishes its builder?

So how can one guard against him, when the builder is the destroyer?

وَتَكمِلَةُ العَيشِ الصَبا وَعَقيبُهُ

وَتَكمِلَةُ العَيشِ الصَبا وَعَقيبُهُ

وَغائِبُ لَونِ العارِضينِ وَقادِمُه

وَغائِبُ لَونِ العارِضينِ وَقادِمُه

Life's fullness lies in youth and what follows it,

The sum of life is youth and the sequel trouble;

The fullness of life is youth and what follows in its wake,

and the vanished color of the beard and the color that arrives.

Absent the cheek-down's sheen, and present comes age, the defacer.

The color of the temples that departs, and the white that arrives.

وَما خَضَبَ الناسُ البَياضَ لِأَنَّهُ

وَما خَضَبَ الناسُ البَياضَ لِأَنَّهُ

قَبيحٌ وَلَكِن أَحسَنُ الشَعرِ فاحِمُه

قَبيحٌ وَلَكِن أَحسَنُ الشَعرِ فاحِمُه

People have not dyed their white hair because it

'Twas no ugliness made people dye the white hair dark,

Men do not dye their white hair because it is ugly,

is ugly, but because jet-black hair is the finest.

But that the black is more beautiful and covers white hair.

But rather because the finest hair is that which is coal-black.

وَأَحسَنُ مِن ماءِ الشَبيبَةِ كُلِّهِ

وَأَحسَنُ مِن ماءِ الشَبيبَةِ كُلِّهِ

حَيا بارِقٍ في فازَةٍ أَنا شائِمُه

حَيا بارِقٍ في فازَةٍ أَنا شائِمُه

And lovelier than all the freshness of youth

And sweeter than all the water of youth's prime

Yet fairer than all the freshness of youth,

is rain from a lightning-cloud within a pavilion, whose flashes I watch.

Is life with honor flashing in the squadron's dust.

Is the rain of a lightning-cloud upon a royal tent I behold.

عَلَيها رِياضٌ لَم تَحُكها سَحابَةٌ

عَلَيها رِياضٌ لَم تَحُكها سَحابَةٌ

وَأَغصانُ دَوحٍ لَم تَغَنَّ حَمائِمُه

وَأَغصانُ دَوحٍ لَم تَغَنَّ حَمائِمُه

Upon it are meadows no cloud has woven,

Upon it are groves no clouds have sprinkled

Upon it are gardens not woven by any passing cloud,

and boughs of mighty trees whose doves have never sung.

And branches of oak no doves have sung upon.

And branches of lofty trees where no doves have ever sung.

وَفَوقَ حَواشي كُلِّ ثَوبٍ مُوَجَّهٍ

وَفَوقَ حَواشي كُلِّ ثَوبٍ مُوَجَّهٍ

مِنَ الدُرِّ سِمطٌ لَم يُثَقِّبهُ ناظِمُه

مِنَ الدُرِّ سِمطٌ لَم يُثَقِّبهُ ناظِمُه

And above the borders of every double-faced cloth

Over the edging of every embroidered robe are strung

And above the borders of every rich, two-faced brocade,

is a strand of pearls its stringer never pierced.

Pearls no stringer has bored through or joined together.

Lies a string of pearls that no jeweler has ever pierced.

تَرى حَيَوانَ البَرِّ مُصطَلِحاً بِها

تَرى حَيَوانَ البَرِّ مُصطَلِحاً بِها

يُحارِبُ ضِدٌّ ضِدَّهُ وَيُسالِمُه

يُحارِبُ ضِدٌّ ضِدَّهُ وَيُسالِمُه

You see the creatures of the wild at peace upon it:

You see the land beasts all at peace upon it

There you see the beasts of the wild reconciled together;

one adversary fights its adversary, yet makes peace with it.

Each wild animal paired close with his fellow and intimate.

Where foe fights foe, yet remains in eternal truce.

إِذا ضَرَبَتهُ الريحُ ماجَ كَأَنَّهُ

إِذا ضَرَبَتهُ الريحُ ماجَ كَأَنَّهُ

تَجولُ مَذاكيهِ وَتَدأى ضَراغِمُه

تَجولُ مَذاكيهِ وَتَدأى ضَراغِمُه

When the wind strikes it, it billows, as though

When the wind flows over it, it stirs as if

When the wind strikes the canvas, it ripples as though

its full-grown steeds were roaming and its lions stalking.

Intoxicated, kissing its own fair cheeks and leaves.

Its horses were galloping and its lions stalking their prey.

وَفي صورَةِ الرومِيِّ ذي التاجِ ذِلَّةٌ

وَفي صورَةِ الرومِيِّ ذي التاجِ ذِلَّةٌ

لِأَبلَجَ لا تيجانَ إِلّا عَمائِمُه

لِأَبلَجَ لا تيجانَ إِلّا عَمائِمُه

In the image of the crowned Byzantine is abasement

In the features of the Byzantines, though with crown bedeckt,

And in the image of the crowned Byzantine lies humiliation,

before a radiant-browed man whose only crowns are his turbans.

Is a humiliation to faces whose turbans are but cowls.

Before a radiant lord whose only crowns are his turbans.

تُقَبِّلُ أَفواهُ المُلوكِ بِساطَهُ

تُقَبِّلُ أَفواهُ المُلوكِ بِساطَهُ

وَيَكبُرُ عَنها كُمُّهُ وَبَراجِمُه

وَيَكبُرُ عَنها كُمُّهُ وَبَراجِمُه

The mouths of kings kiss his carpet,

Their princes' mouths kiss the ground before its carpets

The mouths of kings bend down to kiss his carpet,

while his sleeve and knuckles are too exalted for them.

While their souls and acts at it curl the lip and wrinkle the nose.

While his sleeve and knuckles are far too exalted for their touch.

قِياماً لِمَن يَشفي مِنَ الداءِ كَيُّهُ

قِياماً لِمَن يَشفي مِنَ الداءِ كَيُّهُ

وَمَن بَينَ أُذنَي كُلِّ قَرمٍ مَواسِمُه

وَمَن بَينَ أُذنَي كُلِّ قَرمٍ مَواسِمُه

Standing before him whose cautery cures disease,

It lifts up the base and brings down the proud;

They stand before him whose cautery cures the disease,

and whose brands lie between the ears of every mighty bull-camel.

It fills the ear of each mud-bred mongrel and noble of tent.

He whose brands are stamped between the ears of every chief.

قَبائِعُها تَحتَ المَرافِقِ هَيبَةً

قَبائِعُها تَحتَ المَرافِقِ هَيبَةً

وَأَنفَذُ مِمّا في الجُفونِ عَزائِمُه

وَأَنفَذُ مِمّا في الجُفونِ عَزائِمُه

Their sword-pommels lie beneath the elbows, out of awe,

Their turbans beneath their arms quake with fear of it

Their sword-hilts are tucked beneath their elbows in awe,

and his resolves are more piercing than the blades within scabbards.

More than the resolve flashes in their vinous eyes.

While his resolve cuts deeper than the blades within their sheaths.

لَهُ عَسكَراً خَيلٍ وَطَيرٍ إِذا رَمى

لَهُ عَسكَراً خَيلٍ وَطَيرٍ إِذا رَمى

بِها عَسكَراً لَم يَبقَ إِلّا جَماجِمُه

بِها عَسكَراً لَم يَبقَ إِلّا جَماجِمُه

He has two armies, of horses and birds; when he hurls

It has forces of horse, armies of birds

He commands two armies—of horses and of birds; when he hurls them

them against an army, only its skulls remain.

Which, when it attacks foe armies leave only the skulls.

Against a host, nothing remains of it but skulls.

أَجِلَّتُها مِن كُلِّ طاغٍ ثِيابُهُ

أَجِلَّتُها مِن كُلِّ طاغٍ ثِيابُهُ

وَمَوطِئُها مِن كُلِّ باغٍ مَلاغِمُه

وَمَوطِئُها مِن كُلِّ باغٍ مَلاغِمُه

Their caparisons are the robes of every tyrant,

I have threaded the nights and days till I met it

Their saddle-cloths are the robes of every tyrant,

and every rebel's muzzle lies beneath their tread.

Steadfast on foundation-stones whose height naught reverses.

And their trampling ground is the face of every oppressor.

فَقَد مَلَّ ضَوءُ الصُبحِ مِمّا تُغيرُهُ

فَقَد مَلَّ ضَوءُ الصُبحِ مِمّا تُغيرُهُ

وَمَلَّ سَوادُ اللَيلِ مِمّا تُزاحِمُه

وَمَلَّ سَوادُ اللَيلِ مِمّا تُزاحِمُه

For dawn's light has wearied of how often they alter it,

Ways I entered in them no wolf walked

The light of dawn has grown weary of your constant raids,

and night's blackness has wearied of how often they crowd it;

Nor routes unknown where the wild crows direction lost.

And the blackness of night is tired of your crowding presence.

وَمَلَّ القَنا مِمّا تَدُقُّ صُدورَهُ

وَمَلَّ القَنا مِمّا تَدُقُّ صُدورَهُ

وَمَلَّ حَديدُ الهِندِ مِمّا تُلاطِمُه

وَمَلَّ حَديدُ الهِندِ مِمّا تُلاطِمُه

and the spears have wearied of having their foreparts crushed,

I saw a moon that no moon equals,

The spears are weary of the chests you shatter,

and India's steel has wearied of their blows against it.

And accosted an ocean no swimmer's breasts have furrowed.

And the Indian steel is weary of the blows you strike.

سَحابٌ مِنَ العِقبانِ يَزحَفُ تَحتَها

سَحابٌ مِنَ العِقبانِ يَزحَفُ تَحتَها

سَحابٌ إِذا اِستَسقَت سَقَتها صَوارِمُه

سَحابٌ إِذا اِستَسقَت سَقَتها صَوارِمُه

A cloud of eagles; beneath them advances

For its qualities I was angered that they went without praise,

A cloud of eagles creeps beneath a cloud of dust;

a cloud whose keen swords water them whenever they seek rain.

While poetry bruited what rabble-verses bruited.

A cloud which, when it thirsts, is watered by his sharp swords.

سَلَكتُ صُروفَ الدَهرِ حَتّى لَقَيتُهُ

سَلَكتُ صُروفَ الدَهرِ حَتّى لَقَيتُهُ

عَلى ظَهرِ عَزمٍ مُؤيَداتٍ قَوائِمُه

عَلى ظَهرِ عَزمٍ مُؤيَداتٍ قَوائِمُه

I traversed Time's vicissitudes until I met him,

When I resolved on a distant land, I sped nightly,

I traversed the vicissitudes of time until I met him,

on the back of a resolve whose legs were made strong.

My secret untold, and my travel by dark concealed.

Riding the back of resolve, with legs firm and supported.

مَهالِكَ لَم تَصحَب بِها الذِئبَ نَفسُهُ

مَهالِكَ لَم تَصحَب بِها الذِئبَ نَفسُهُ

وَلا حَمَلَت فيها الغُرابَ قَوادِمُه

وَلا حَمَلَت فيها الغُرابَ قَوادِمُه

Deadly wastes where a wolf's own soul would not accompany it,

The Sword of the State—glory taught it—flashed mightily

Through perils where even the wolf's own soul would forsake him,

nor would a raven's flight-feathers carry it there.

So glory undimmed in its blade, and its stroke unrestrained.

And where the raven’s wings could not bear him aloft.

فَأَبصَرتُ بَدراً لا يَرى البَدرُ مِثلَهُ

فَأَبصَرتُ بَدراً لا يَرى البَدرُ مِثلَهُ

وَخاطَبتُ بَحراً لا يَرى العِبرَ عائِمُه

وَخاطَبتُ بَحراً لا يَرى العِبرَ عائِمُه

Then I beheld a full moon whose like the full moon never sees,

On the neck of the Prince of the Faithful rests its blade

Then I beheld a full moon—such as the moon itself has never seen,

and addressed a sea whose swimmer sees no shore.

And in grasp of the Lord of the Throne's summit is its hilt.

And I addressed a sea whose swimmer can never sight the shore.

غَضِبتُ لَهُ لَمّا رَأَيتُ صِفاتِهِ

غَضِبتُ لَهُ لَمّا رَأَيتُ صِفاتِهِ

بِلا واصِفٍ وَالشِعرُ تَهذي طَماطِمُه

بِلا واصِفٍ وَالشِعرُ تَهذي طَماطِمُه

I grew angry on his behalf when I saw his qualities

Foes attack it, but they are its slaves;

I felt anger on his behalf when I saw his virtues

with no one to describe them, while poetry's babblers raved.

Wealth they spend, but spoils for its gain.

Without a true describer, while poetry merely babbles and raves.

وَكُنتُ إِذا يَمَّمتُ أَرضاً بَعيدَةً

وَكُنتُ إِذا يَمَّمتُ أَرضاً بَعيدَةً

سَرَيتُ وَكُنتُ السِرَّ وَاللَيلُ كاتِمُه

سَرَيتُ وَكُنتُ السِرَّ وَاللَيلُ كاتِمُه

Whenever I would set my course for a distant land,

They make light of fate, which to it is subject;

Whenever I set my course for a distant land,

I traveled by night; I was the secret, and night its keeper.

Death they esteem great, but death is its servant.

I journeyed by night; I was the secret, and the night its keeper.

لَقَد سَلَّ سَيفَ الدَولَةِ المَجدُ مُعلِماً

لَقَد سَلَّ سَيفَ الدَولَةِ المَجدُ مُعلِماً

فَلا المَجدُ مُخفيهِ وَلا الضَربُ ثالِمُه

فَلا المَجدُ مُخفيهِ وَلا الضَربُ ثالِمُه

Glory has unsheathed Sayf al-Dawla—the Sword of the State—bearing his battle-mark;

He who named Ali is just, and he named it Sword.

Glory has unsheathed Saif al-Dawla—the Sword of the State—for all to know;

neither does glory conceal him, nor do blows notch him.

To name it is wrong, and from truth's path they swerved who so named it.

Glory does not hide him, nor does the striking blunt his edge.

عَلى عاتِقِ المَلكِ الأَغَرِّ نِجادُهُ

عَلى عاتِقِ المَلكِ الأَغَرِّ نِجادُهُ

وَفي يَدِ جَبّارِ السَمَواتِ قائِمُه

وَفي يَدِ جَبّارِ السَمَواتِ قائِمُه

His baldric rests upon the radiant king's shoulder,

No sword to the neck-bone cleaves in its blow

Upon the shoulder of the noble King rests his baldric,

and his hilt is in the hand of the Almighty of the heavens.

Or severs the joints of the time's upheavals like it.

While his hilt lies in the hand of the Compeller of the Heavens.

تُحارِبُهُ الأَعداءُ وَهيَ عَبيدُهُ

تُحارِبُهُ الأَعداءُ وَهيَ عَبيدُهُ

وَتَدَّخِرُ الأَموالَ وَهيَ غَنائِمُه

وَتَدَّخِرُ الأَموالَ وَهيَ غَنائِمُه

His enemies fight him, though they are his slaves,

His enemies fight him, yet they are but his slaves,

and hoard wealth, though it is his spoils.

Hoarding wealth that is destined to be his spoil.

وَيَستَكبِرونَ الدَهرَ وَالدَهرُ دونَهُ

وَيَستَكبِرونَ الدَهرَ وَالدَهرُ دونَهُ

وَيَستَعظِمونَ المَوتَ وَالمَوتُ خادِمُه

وَيَستَعظِمونَ المَوتَ وَالمَوتُ خادِمُه

They deem Time mighty, though Time is beneath him,

They deem Time mighty, yet Time is beneath him;

and deem death great, though death is his servant.

They hold Death in awe, yet Death is but his servant.

وَإِنَّ الَّذي سَمّى عَلِيّاً لَمُنصِفٌ

وَإِنَّ الَّذي سَمّى عَلِيّاً لَمُنصِفٌ

وَإِنَّ الَّذي سَمّاهُ سَيفاً لَظالِمُه

وَإِنَّ الَّذي سَمّاهُ سَيفاً لَظالِمُه

Whoever named him Ali, 'the Exalted,' was surely just,

Truly, he who named him 'Ali'—the High One—was just,

and whoever called him a sword surely wronged him.

But he who named him merely 'Sword' did him wrong.

وَما كُلُّ سَيفٍ يَقطَعُ الهامَ حَدُّهُ

وَما كُلُّ سَيفٍ يَقطَعُ الهامَ حَدُّهُ

وَتَقطَعُ لَزباتِ الزَمانِ مَكارِمُه

وَتَقطَعُ لَزباتِ الزَمانِ مَكارِمُه

Not every sword can sever heads with its edge

For not every sword has an edge that severs heads,

and cut through Time's hardships with its generosity.

While his noble deeds sever the very hardships of Time.