!
قفي قدمي ! إن هذا المكان
يغيبُ به المرء عن حسه
Halt, my foot! For in this place
Stand still, my feet! This place
a man loses touch with his senses.
Makes one lose all sense,
رمالٌ وأنقاضُ صرحٍ هوت
أعاليه تبحثُ عن أُسه
Sand, and the ruins of an edifice whose fallen
Sands and ruins of a palace fallen -
heights search for its foundation.
Its heights search for their base.
أقلِّبُ طرفي به ذاهِلاً
وأسألُ يومي عن أمسِه
I turn my gaze about it, bewildered,
I turn my eyes, distraught,
and ask my day about its yesterday.
And ask my day about its past,
أكانت تسيلُ عليه الحياةُ
وتغفو الجفونُ على أنسه
Did life once flow over it,
Did life flow in this place
and eyelids doze in its comfort,
While lids slumbered in rest?
وتشدو البلابلُ في سعده
وتجري المقاديرُ في نحسه
and nightingales sing amid its good fortune,
And bulbuls sang in joy,
and fates run their course amid its ill fortune?
Fortunes running in success and loss?
أأستنطقُ الصخرَ عن ناحِتيه
؟
وأستنهضُ الميتَ من رمسه ؟
Shall I make the rock speak of its carvers,
Shall I ask the rock about its sculptor
and rouse the dead from his grave?
And rouse the dead from their repose?
حوافر خيل الزمان المشت
تكاد تُحدِّثُ عن بؤسه
The hooves of swift Time's steeds
The hooves of the steed of time stamp hard
almost tell of its misery.
As if to narrate its woes,
فما يرضع الشوكُ من صدرهِ
ولا ينعبُ البومُ في رأسه
So thorns do not suckle at its breast,
No thorns suckle its breast,
nor do owls hoot in its head.
No owl hoots on its head.
وتلك العناكبُ مذعورةٌ
تريدُ التفلُّتَ من حبسهِ
And those spiders are terrified,
Terrified are the spiders
wanting to break free from its confinement.
Seeking escape from its enclosure.
لقد تعبتْ منه كفُّ الدمار
وباتت تخاف أذى لمسهِ
Indeed, destruction's hand has grown weary of it,
Tired is the hand of destruction,
and now fears the harm of touching it.
Fearing to touch and cause offense.
هنا ينفض الوهمُ أشباحهُ
وينتحرُ الموتُ في يأسه
Here illusion shakes off its phantoms,
And death commits suicide in despair.
and death commits suicide in its despair.
Sol 6.1