ألاah هلis there لِقَلبfor a heart عَنكaway from you قَدindeed فَقَدhas lost الصَبراpatience
ألا هل لِقَلب عَنك قَد فَقَد الصَبرا
تَجرّعdrinking down مُرّthe bitterness of الصَبرaloe يقضيends life بِهِwith it صَبراwhile held helpless
تَجرّع مُرّ الصَبر يقضي بِهِ صَبرا
Ah, is there, for a heart bereft of patience without you,
Alas! Does my heart not grieve for you, having lost all patience?
a bitter draught of aloe to kill it in helpless torment?
It drinks the bitter patience by which patience is fulfilled.
وَهَلand can لِعُيونfor eyes قَرَّحتهاhas wounded them يَدthe hand of النَوىseparation
وَهَل لِعُيون قَرَّحتها يَد النَوى
وَقَدand indeed أَعجَزhas defeated الداءُthe illness المُداويَthe healer أَنto تَبراheal
وَقَد أَعجَز الداءُ المُداويَ أَن تَبرا
And can eyes wounded by separation's hand,
Do my eyes not ache, wounded by the hand of separation?
their illness having baffled the healer, ever heal?
And the malady has defeated the physicians, unable to cure.
فَياso O راحِلاًone who has departed عَنfrom دارan abode of هَمٍّsorrow وَمِحنةٍand affliction
فَيا راحِلاً عَن دار هَمٍّ وَمِحنةٍ
لَكَfor you اللَهGod إنيindeed I قَدmay أَقولsay لَكَto you البُشرىglad tidings
لَكَ اللَه إني قَد أَقول لَكَ البُشرى
O you who have departed from an abode of sorrow and affliction,
So farewell, leaving the abode of cares and trials!
God be with you; I can indeed offer you glad tidings.
God be with you! I say to you good tidings:
لعمركby your life ماnot الدُنياthe world بِدارan abode of كَرامَةٍhonor
لعمرك ما الدُنيا بِدار كَرامَةٍ
يعزُّis honored بِهاin it مَنwhoever عَزَّis esteemed بَينamong المَلاthe people قَدراin rank
يعزُّ بِها مَن عَزَّ بَين المَلا قَدرا
By your life, this world is no abode of honor,
By your life, this world is no abode of dignity,
where those of high standing among people are held dear.
Where he is esteemed among the elite, would be esteemed.
وَماand ... not الناسpeople إِلّاbut مَيّتa dead man وابنand the son of مَيّتٍa dead man
وَما الناس إِلّا مَيّت وابن مَيّتٍ
بِذاthus جرتran الأَقدارdestinies سُبحانglory to مَنHim who أَجرىset them running
بِذا جرت الأَقدار سُبحان مَن أَجرى
People are but the dead and the children of the dead;
The people are but the dying and the children of the dying.
thus have destinies run—glory to Him who set them running.
Thus destiny flows! Glory to Him who ordained it so.
فَمَنso whoever لَمdoes not يَمُتdie مِنon يَومهhis day ماتَwill die مِنon غَدٍthe morrow
فَمَن لَم يَمُت مِن يَومه ماتَ مِن غَدٍ
وَمَنand whoever لَمdoes not يَمُتdie طَوعاًwillingly قَضىmeets نَحبهhis death قَهراby force
وَمَن لَم يَمُت طَوعاً قَضى نَحبه قَهرا
Whoever does not die today will die tomorrow,
Who did not die in his day will die tomorrow.
and whoever does not die willingly meets his death by force.
Who did not die willingly will meet his death by compulsion.
ألاindeed ماnot البقاeternity إِلّاexcept لِمَنfor Him who خَلقcreated البَقاeternity
ألا ما البقا إِلّا لِمَن خَلق البَقا
معيداًbringing back لَناus بَعدafter الفَناperishing مرّةًa time أُخرىanother
معيداً لَنا بَعد الفَنا مرّةً أُخرى
Indeed, eternity belongs only to Him who created eternity,
Indeed, existence is only for Him who created existence,
bringing us back once more after our passing away.
Returning us to life after death another time.
وَلَيسَand is not الفَناperishing إِلّاexcept لِمَنfor whoever هُوَhe لِلفَناis destined to perish
وَلَيسَ الفَنا إِلّا لِمَن هُوَ لِلفَنا
سواءalike عَلىupon الخَضراءِthe green heavens كانَhe is أَوor الغَبراthe dust-gray earth
سواء عَلى الخَضراءِ كانَ أَو الغَبرا
And passing away belongs only to those destined to perish,
While death is only for him destined for death,
whether in the green heavens or on the dust-gray earth.
Equal on the greensward as in the dust.
رُوَيداًgently فَماfor ... not الدُنياthe world سِوىbut طَيفa phantom زائرٍvisiting
رُوَيداً فَما الدُنيا سِوى طَيف زائرٍ
إِذاwhen ماemphasis حَلاwas sweet لِلعَينto the eye هاجعةًsleeping مرّاpassed away
إِذا ما حَلا لِلعَين هاجعةً مرّا
Gently now: the world is only a visiting phantom
Restrain yourself, for the world is but a fleeting specter,
that passes just when it delights the sleeping eye.
When it comes to the eye doleful and bitter.
وَماand how أَقصرَshort الآمالhopes فيماwhile لَدىin the eyes of الفَتىthe young man
وَما أَقصرَ الآمال فيما لَدى الفَتى
طوالاlong وَلَحظwhile the gaze of الدَهرTime يرمقهwatches him شَذراaskance
طوالا وَلَحظ الدَهر يرمقه شَذرا
And how short are hopes, though in a young man's eyes
How short are the hopes within the youth’s breast,
they are long, while Time's gaze watches him askance!
His aspirations so long, and fate only glances at him briefly!
أَرىI see ميتةthe death of الصُعلوكthe pauper فيin دارthe abode of همّهhis sorrow
أَرى ميتة الصُعلوك في دار همّه
فَقيراًpoor كماjust as قَدindeed ماتَdied فيin مُلكهhis kingdom كِسرىChosroes
فَقيراً كما قَد ماتَ في مُلكه كِسرى
I see the pauper die in his dwelling of sorrow,
I see the death of the wretched in his cares,
poor, just as Chosroes died within his kingdom.
As poor as when he died in his kingdom like Chosroes.
وَمَنand whoever نَظَرlooks at الدُنياthe world بِعَينwith an eye of بَصيرَةٍinsight
وَمَن نَظَر الدُنيا بِعَين بَصيرَةٍ
رَأىsees يسرهاits ease عُسراًhardship وَأَرباحهاand its gains خُسراloss
رَأى يسرها عُسراً وَأَرباحها خُسرا
Whoever looks at the world with an eye of insight
He who sees the world with discerning eye
sees its ease as hardship and its gains as loss.
Sees its ease hardship and its profits loss.
وَماand ... not الحُكمjudgment إِلّاexcept لِلإلهِfor God فَكُلّso everyone مَنwho
وَما الحُكم إِلّا لِلإلهِ فَكُلّ مَن
يُعاتبreproaches دَهراًTime جَهلهhe has not understood it ظلمhas wronged الدَهراTime
يُعاتب دَهراً جَهله ظلم الدَهرا
Judgment belongs to God alone; so everyone who
Judgment belongs only to God. Whoever
reproaches Time without understanding it has wronged Time.
Reproaches fate is ignorant and wrongs fate.
فَياso O مَوتDeath إنّيindeed I إِنif أَلُمكblame you فَإِنّنيthen indeed I
فَيا مَوت إنّي إِن أَلُمك فَإِنّني
أُلامُam blamed فَماfor ... not أَحدثتyou have brought about ماwhat lies بَينَناbetween us إِمراa monstrous thing
أُلامُ فَما أَحدثت ما بَينَنا إِمرا
So, Death, if I blame you, then I myself
O Death! If I blame you, I blame myself,
am to blame, for you have wrought no monstrous thing among us.
For between us you have not caused any rancor.
فَكَمso how many مِنof قُبورgraves مِنكَthrough you آهِلَةinhabited غَدَتbecame
فَكَم مِن قُبور مِنكَ آهِلَة غَدَت
وَكَمand how many مِنof قُصورpalaces جُزتyou passed through فَاِنقلبتand so became قَفراdesolate
وَكَم مِن قُصور جُزت فَاِنقلبت قَفرا
How many graves through you have become inhabited,
How many graves that were once inhabited are now desolate!
and how many palaces you passed through have become desolate!
How many palaces you have turned into ruins!
ألاah ياO حَمامdove الدَوحthe grove ماwhat لكَis with you نائِحاًlamenting
ألا يا حَمام الدَوح ما لكَ نائِحاً
هبِgive النوحlamentation قَلبيmy heart إِنindeed قَلبيmy heart بِهِof it أَدرىknows better
هبِ النوح قَلبي إِن قَلبي بِهِ أَدرى
Ah, dove of the grove, why do you lament?
O doves of the valley, why do you lament?
Give lamentation to my heart, for my heart knows it better.
Let my heart lament, for my heart knows best!
فَقَدناwe have lost أَديباًa man of letters كانَused to طرسthe page of يراعهhis reed pen
فَقَدنا أَديباً كانَ طرس يراعه
إِذاwhenever خَطّhe wrote سَطراًa line نالَgained مِنof حَظِّهِhis good fortune شطراa portion
إِذا خَطّ سَطراً نالَ مِن حَظِّهِ شطرا
We have lost a man of letters whose reed pen's page,
We have lost a writer whose verse Mount Tarsh would tend,
whenever he wrote a line, gained a share of his good fortune.
Gaining a share whenever he wrote a line.
أَخاa man of شيمnoble traits قَدindeed أَعجزتhave baffled عَنin مَديحهاpraising them
أَخا شيم قَد أَعجزت عَن مَديحها
لِسانيmy tongue فَأَمسىso it became لاnot يُطيقable to offer لَهاfor them شُكراthanks
لِساني فَأَمسى لا يُطيق لَها شُكرا
A man of virtues whose praise has baffled
My tongue falters, incapable of thanking adequately
my tongue, leaving it unable to offer thanks for them.
A brother whose noble qualities it wearies to praise.
وَماand ... not كُنتI was ياO مارونMaroun قَبلكbefore you زاعِماًbelieving
وَما كُنت يا مارون قَبلك زاعِماً
بِأَنّthat الثَرىthe earth عَنfrom أَعيُنيmy eyes يَحجبhides البَدراthe full moon
بِأَنّ الثَرى عَن أَعيُني يَحجب البَدرا
And never, Maroun, before you, did I believe
Maroun! I never claimed before you
that earth could hide the full moon from my eyes.
That the earth screens the full moon from my eyes.
وَأيّةand whatever أَرضearth قَدindeed حَللتyou have settled in فَإِنَّناthen indeed we
وَأيّة أَرض قَد حَللت فَإِنَّنا
لِنَعجبtruly marvel مِنهاat it أَنَّهاthat it وَسِعتhas contained بَحراa sea
لِنَعجب مِنها أَنَّها وَسِعت بَحرا
And whatever earth you have settled in, we
What land have you inhabited, so that we wonder
truly marvel at it, that it has contained a sea.
That it contained a sea?
وَماand ... not أَنتyou بِالنائيone far away الغَريبthe stranger فَكلّناfor all of us
وَما أَنت بِالنائي الغَريب فَكلّنا
بِهاin it غرباءstrangers الدارthe abode لَوif نُحسنwe do well at الفكراreflection
بِها غرباء الدار لَو نُحسن الفكرا
And you are no distant stranger, for all of us
You are not far, a stranger. All of us
are strangers in this abode, if we think aright.
In it are strangers; if only we reflect well.
يُؤجّجkindles نارthe fire of الحُزنsorrow ذكركyour memory فيwithin الحَشاthe breast
يُؤجّج نار الحُزن ذكرك في الحَشا
فَيوشكso ... nearly دَمعthe tears of العَينthe eye أَنto يُطفئquench الجَمراthe embers
فَيوشك دَمع العَين أَن يُطفئ الجَمرا
Your memory kindles sorrow's fire within my breast,
Mention of you kindles the fire of sadness in the night encampment,
so the eye's tears nearly quench the embers.
And my tears are on the verge of extinguishing the embers.
وَلَوand if كُنتyou were تُفدىransomed لاِفتدتكwould surely ransom you عَلىin الوَفاloyalty
وَلَو كُنت تُفدى لاِفتدتك عَلى الوَفا
بِهاwith itself نَفسُthe soul of حُرّa free man لاnot تُباعis sold وَلاnor تُشرىis bought
بِها نَفسُ حُرّ لا تُباع وَلا تُشرى
And if you could be ransomed, you would be loyally redeemed
If you could be ransomed, I would ransom you loyally
with a free man's own soul, neither sold nor bought.
With a free soul that cannot be bought or sold.
يَقولونthey say مَنwhoever فيamong الناسpeople خَلّفleaves descendants لَمdoes not يَمُتdie
يَقولون مَن في الناس خَلّف لَم يَمُت
فَقُلتso I said إِذاthen ماnot ماتَhas died منwhoever خَلّفleaves behind الذِكراremembrance
فَقُلت إِذا ما ماتَ من خَلّف الذِكرا
They say: whoever among people leaves descendants does not die;
They say: “Whoever leaves heirs, does not die.”
I said: then whoever leaves remembrance has not died.
I say: “When the one who leaves a legacy dies, he dies.”
إِذاif لَمnot يَكُنthere is كسبgain سِوىother than الذكرremembrance لِلفَتىfor a young man
إِذا لَم يَكُن كسب سِوى الذكر لِلفَتى
فَلاthen may not أَيمَنتfind blessing يمنa right hand وَلاnor أَيسرتprosper يسرىa left hand
فَلا أَيمَنت يمن وَلا أَيسرت يسرى
If a young man has no gain but remembrance,
If there is no gain but mention for the youth,
then may no right hand find blessing, nor any left hand prosper!
Neither right hand nor left has prospered.
فَكَمso how much لَكَyou have فيin الآدابletters لُطفgrace of شَمائِلٍcharacter traits
فَكَم لَكَ في الآداب لُطف شَمائِلٍ
إِذاwhenever ماemphasis نَشَرناwe spread ذِكرَهاtheir remembrance نَفحتthey wafted نَشراfragrance
إِذا ما نَشَرنا ذِكرَها نَفحت نَشرا
How many gracious qualities are yours in the arts of letters,
You have so many gentle, refined qualities in literature,
which, whenever we spread their remembrance, waft fragrance!
When we repeat them, they diffuse fragrance.
وَكَمand how many لَكyou have مِنof أَبياتverses of شعرpoetry حريّةٍworthy
وَكَم لَك مِن أَبيات شعر حريّةٍ
بِهاwith them أَنto تحلّيadorn جيدهاher neck الغادةthe lovely maiden العذراthe virgin
بِها أَن تحلّي جيدها الغادة العذرا
And how many poetic verses you have, worthy
You have so many eloquent, ingenious lines of verse
for a virgin beauty to adorn her neck with them!
With which to adorn your fair, chaste cheeks.
هِيَthey (the verses) الراحwine لَولاwere it not أَنَّهُمthat they لَقّبواnicknamed الطلاwine
هِيَ الراح لَولا أَنَّهُم لَقّبوا الطلا
عَجوزاًan old woman لَكانَwould surely have الفكرthe mind لَقّبهاnamed them بِكراa virgin
عَجوزاً لَكانَ الفكر لَقّبها بِكرا
They are wine; had people not nicknamed wine
She is the doe! Were it not for their naming the rises
'an old woman,' the mind would have named them 'a virgin.'
An old woman, reason would name it a virgin.
أَلاah ياO بنيfamily of النقّاشal-Naqqash لاlet not يحزننّكمgrieve you
أَلا يا بني النقّاش لا يحزننّكم
بكىًweeping وَسَّعhas widened الأَجفانthe eyelids أَوor ضَيَّقconstricted الصدراthe breast
بكىً وَسَّع الأَجفان أَو ضَيَّق الصدرا
O family of al-Naqqash, do not let
O descendants of Naqqash! Let not weeping distress you,
weeping that has widened eyelids or constricted the breast grieve you.
Whether the eyelids expand or the breast tightens.
أَرىI see الدَهرTime لَمّاwhen قسَّمdivided الحُزنsorrow خصّناallotted us
أَرى الدَهر لَمّا قسَّم الحُزن خصّنا
بِتسعةwith nine أَعشارtenths وَحَمَّلكمand burdened you with عُشراone tenth
بِتسعة أَعشار وَحَمَّلكم عُشرا
I see that when Time divided sorrow, it allotted us
I see when Fate apportioned sorrow, it singled us out
nine tenths and burdened you with one tenth.
For nine-tenths, and burdened you with one tenth.
وَياand O ثَغرport of بَيروتBeirut تَعزَّtake comfort فَقَلّماfor seldom
وَيا ثَغر بَيروت تَعزَّ فَقَلّما
نَراكwe see you سُروراًwith joy بَعدَهُafter him باسِماًsmiling ثَغراin the mouth
نَراك سُروراً بَعدَهُ باسِماً ثَغرا
And you, port of Beirut, take comfort; seldom
O lips of Beirut, you are desolate! How rarely
shall we see your mouth smile with joy after him.
Do we see you happy afterward, o lips!
سَتَبكيwill weep عُيونيmy eyes الدَهرforever لاnot الحَولa year طاعَةًin obedience
سَتَبكي عُيوني الدَهر لا الحَول طاعَةً
لِحُكمto the decree of لَبيدٍLabid لاno فلمfor I did not آلهاwithhold from them عُذراan excuse
لِحُكم لَبيدٍ لا فلم آلها عُذرا
My eyes shall weep forever, not for a year in obedience
My eyes will weep forever, helpless
to Labid's decree—no; I have withheld no excuse from them.
To obey the decree of Labid. I cannot excuse them.
وَآسفand I would lament لَوif كانَwere التأَسّفlamentation نافِعاًuseful
وَآسف لَو كانَ التأَسّف نافِعاً
عَلَيهِfor him وَلَكنَّbut الثَناءpraise لَهُfor him أَحرىmore fitting
عَلَيهِ وَلَكنَّ الثَناء لَهُ أَحرى
And I would lament, if lamentation were of use
I grieve—if grieving could avail—for him.
for him; but praise is more fitting for him.
But praise of him is more befitting.
Sol 6.1