لا تسل عن أنينه وسهاده

إن في جراحه جراح بلاده

Do not ask about his moaning and his pillow

For in his wounds are the wounds of his country

إن في جراحه جراحات شعبٍ

راكد الحس حيه كجماده

In his wounds are the wounds of a people

Whose feelings are stagnant, dead like stones

ثائرٌ يحمل البلاد قلوباً

في حشاه وشعلة في اعتقاده

A rebel carrying the hearts of countries

In his love and faith a flaming torch

وهب الشعب قلبه ودماه

وأحاسيسه وصفو وداده

He gave his people his heart and blood

And his feelings, loyalty and affection

فهو أصواته إذا ضج في النـ

ـاس ونجوى ضميره في انفراده

He is their voices when the people roar

And the whispers of his conscience in solitude

إنه ثائر يريد ويسمو

فوق طاقاته... سمو مراده

He is a rebel who wants and aspires

Beyond his means... lofty is his goal

أوقد الحقد في حناياه ثاراً

عاصفاً يستفز نار زناده

Hatred ignited flames in his guts

A raging storm provoking the fire of his flint

فمضى والعناد في مقلتيه

صارخٌ، والجحيم في أحقاده

So he went with obstinacy in his eyelids

Shouting, and hell in his hatred

وتلقى الرصاص من كل فجٍ

وهو ما زال في جنون عناده

And he faced bullets from every crevice

Still rabid in his obstinate frenzy

كلما أومأ الفرار إليه

أمسكت قبضة الوغى بقياده

Whenever retreat beckoned him

The grip of chaos seized his leadership

وتحدى الحتوف حتى تلظت

حوله وانتهت بقايا عتاده

He challenged calamities until they blazed

Around him and his weapons were spent

عاد كالسيف حاملاً من دمه

شفقاً يخبر الدنا عن جلاده

He returned like a sword carrying from his blood

A twilight that tells the world about his executioner

والجراح التي تراها عليه

كالعناوين في سجل جهاده

And the wounds you see on him

Are like the titles in the record of his jihad

وارتمى في الفراش والثأر فيه

ساهر ينذر الوغى بمعاده

And he fell into bed with vengeance still

Awake in him, boding the chaos of his appointment

لم ينم لحظةً وإن نام هزت

ذكريات الوغى سكون وساده

He did not sleep a moment and if he slept

Memories of chaos shook the calm of his pillow

وتلظت فيه الجراح فأوهت

جسمه وانطفى حماس اعتداده

And the wounds blazed in him moaning

His body and extinguishing the fervor of his determination

يسأل الصمت والمنى كيف يشفي

كبرياء الجراح من جلاده

He asks silence and purpose how to heal

The pride of the wounds from his tormentor

فهو بين الطموح والعجز والأش

واق كالصقر في يدي صياده

For he is between ambition and frustration and longing

Like an eagle in the hands of his hunter

لا تلمه إذا شكا إن شكواه

وأناته دخان اتقاده

Do not blame him if he complains, for his complaints

And his sighs are the smoke of his passion

إن أنفاسه غبارٌ وجمرٌ

من شظايا فؤاده ورماده

His breaths are dust and embers

From the debris of his heart and his ashes

كلما قال آه! أو صعد الأنفـ

ـاس شاهدت قطعةً من فؤاده

Whenever he says "Oh!" or his sighs rise up

You see a piece of his heart

وإذا صاح جوعه في الحنايا

فرفات المنى بقية زاده

And when his hunger cries out from the depths

It is the fluttering of purpose, the remnants of his provisions

عمره المدلهم سجن وينكي

جرحه أن عمره في ازدياده

His miserable lifetime is a prison and his wound laments

That his lifetime is on the increase

فهو يشقى في يقظة العين با

لشعب ويشقى بحلمه في رقاده

So he suffers awake with the people

And suffers asleep with his dream in his bed

مل طول الحياة لا نال منها

ما يرجى ولادنا من حصاده

He has not gotten from life despite its length

What he hopes for or what his children might harvest from it

والشقي الشقي من مل طول العمر

والعمر لم يزل في امتداده

"Wretched, wretched is he who suffering life's length

While life continues on its course"