مَاذَا سُؤَالُ النَّاسِ عَنْ مُتَرَدَّمِ؟
اِحْمِلْ هَوَاكَ وَصُلْ بِهِ وَتَقَدَّمِ !!
What is the people's question about the ruin dweller?
Carry your passion and reach it and excel!
في الشِّعْرِ كَمْ مَعْنىً جَمُوحٍ كَامِنٍ
فَانْفَذْ إِلَيْهِ.. فَقَذْ يَذِلُّ لِمُلْهَمِ
In poetry how much raging meaning lies dormant
So unleash it.. perhaps it will submit to the inspired one
وَالشِّعْرُ والمعنى غَزَالٌ نَافِرٌ
وَالسِّرُّ في الصَّيَّادِ لاَ في الأَسْهُمْ!!
Poetry and meaning are a wary gazelle
And the secret is in the hunter not the arrows
مَنْ صَادَ مَعْنىً أَوْقَعَتْهُ حِبَالُهُ
أَوْلَى بِتَقْدِمَةٍ عَلَى الْمُتَقَدِّمِ
Whoever hunted a meaning, his ropes brought it down
More deserving of an offering than the exceler
يَا دَارَ عَبْلَةَ قَدْ أَتَاكِ مُتَيَّمٌ
رُدِّي عَلَيْهِ سَلاَمَهُ وَتَكَلَّمِي
O Abela's house, Motayam has come to you
Return his greeting and speak
يَا دَارُ.. عَبْلَةُ فَارَقَتْكِ وَخَلَّفَتْ
فِيكِ الفُؤَادَ وَصَبْوَةً لَمْ تَهْرَمِ
O House.. Abela left you and left
In you the heart and youthfulness that did not decay
هَرِمَتْ وَمَا هَرِمَ الغَرَامُ.. وَصَرَّمَتْ
وَصْلاً.. وَحَبْلُ حَنِينِهَا لَمْ يُصْرَمِ
It decayed, and love did not decay, it aged
Joining.. and the rope of her yearning was not severed
رَحَلَتْ فَأَضْحَى كُلُّ بَيْتٍ مُقْفِراً
خَرِباً.. فَمَا أَلْقَتْ عَصَا الْمُتَخَيِّمِ
She left so every house became desolate
Ruined.. yet she did not cast off the stick of the camper
رَحَلَتْ.. فَعَذْبُ الْمَاءِ مُهْلٌ آسِنٌ
في حَلْقِهَا مُرٌّ كَطَعْمِ العَلْقَمِ
She left.. so the sweetness of water is stale brackish
In her throat bitter like the taste of colocynth
إِنْ مَا ارْتَدَتْ ثَوْبَ السَّعَادَةِ مَرَّةً
غَطَّى سَعَادَتَهَا الزَّمَانُ بِمَأْتَمِ
If she ever wore the garb of happiness
Time covered her happiness with mourning
تَرْنُو لَهَا الدُّنْيَا بِوَجْهٍ عَابِسٍ
يُبْدِي نَوَاجِذَهُ لِغَيْرِ تَبَسُّمِ
The world frowns at her with a sullen face
Baring its teeth not smiling at her
فَارَقْتِ دَارَكِ ثُمَّ رُمْتِ وِصَالَهَا
عَسِرٌ عَلَيْكِ طِلاَبُهَا ابْنَةَ مَخْرَمِ!!
You left your house then sought reunion with it
Hard for you is seeking it, daughter of Makram!
لَمْ يَبْقَ مِنْ وَطَنٍ يُفَدَّى أَوْ حِمى
يَأْوِي إِلَيْهِ مِنَ الْمَصَائِبِ مُحْتَمِي
No homeland remains to be ransomed or protected
Sheltering the stricken from disasters
أَوْطَانُنَا أَطْلاَلُ ذِكْرَى نِعْمَةٍ
بيعَتْ بخُسْرٍ... لاتَ حينَ المَنْدَمِ
Our homelands are ruins of a past blessing
Sold for pittance.. if only at the time of regret
مَا زِلْتُ أَبْكِي مُذْ وُلِدْتُ بِأَدْمُعٍ
فُصْحَى تُرِيقُ دِمَاءَ حُلْمٍ أَبْكَمِ
I have wept since I was born with tears
Of wakefulness shedding the blood of silent wisdom
وَالدَّهْرُ أَبْصَرُ مَنْ رَأَيْتَ إذَا اعْتَدَى
فَإِذَا اهْتَدَى أَوْ تَابَ مِنْ ظُلْمٍ عَمِي
And time is more insightful than you thought if it transgressed
But if it found guidance or repented from injustice, blind
وَيَنُوهُ مِنْهُ.. فَكُلُّ بَاغٍ مُفْصِحٌ
لَسِنٌ.. فَيَا عَجَبِي لِهَادٍ أَعْجَمِ
It moans from it.. so every rebel is eloquent
Tongues.. how strange the mute guide is to me!
فِيئِي لِنَفْسِكِ قَبْلَ فَيْئِكِ لِلْحِمَى
لَوْ لَمْ تَضِلِّي في الهَوَى لَمْ تَنْدَمِي
Bring yourself before bringing protection to homelands
Had you not gone astray in passion you would not regret
وَقِفِي عَلَى أَطْلَالِ قَلْبِكِ وَانْدُبِي
قَبْلَ الدِّيَارِ هَوَاكِ أُمَّ الهَيْثَمِ
Stop at your heart's ruins and mourn
The homelands before your love O mother of Haitham
وابْكِي هَوىً أَخْلَى فَؤَادَكِ زيغُه
مِنْ مَغْنَمٍ فَأَكَبَّهُ في مَغْرَمِ
And cry for a passion whose deviation emptied your heart
From profit but plunged it into loss
لاَ تَنْشُدِي سَكَناً.. فَلَيْسَ بِكَائِنٍ
وَطَنٌ بِغَيْرِ فُؤَادِكِ الْمُتَضَرِّمِ
Do not seek rest.. there is no homeland
Without your burning heart, you who camp
وَالدَّارُ وَهْمٌ في زَمَانِك خَادِعٌ
والرَّسْمُ والأطلاَلُ مَحْضُ تَوَهُّمِ
The house is an illusion in your time, deceiving
The outline and ruins are pure imagination
شُدِّي الرِّحَالَ إِلَى فُؤَادِكِ وَانْزِلي
جَلَّ الفُؤَادُ –فُدِيتِ مِنْ مُتَخَيَّم
Head with your tents to your heart and descend
May the heart be ransomed - from you who camp
وَخُذِي بِأَيْدِي النَّاسِ نَحْوَ قُلُوبِهِمْ
فَالتِّيهُ في الأَلْبَابِ لاَ في الْمَعْلَمِ
And take the people's hands toward their hearts
Lost are the minds not the landmarks
