يا أَيُّها الشَّادي المغرِّدُ ههُنا

ثَمِلاً بِغِبْطةِ قَلْبهِ المَسْرورِ

O you who sing blissfully here

O chanting warbler singing here,

Full of the joy of your delighted heart

Intoxicated by the bliss of a heart purely glad,

مُتَنقِّلاُ بَيْنَ الخَمائلِ تالِياً

وَحْيَ الرَّبيعِ السَّاحرِ المَسْحورِ

Roaming among the beauties, following

Flitting among the thickets, reciting

The enchanting, fascinated spring quarter

The revelation of the bewitching, spellbound Spring.

غَرِّدْ ففي تِلْكَ السُّهولِ زَنابِقُ

تَرْنو إليكَ بِناظرٍ مَنْظورِ

Sing! For in those meadows violets

Sing, for within those plains lilies wait,

Yearn for you with a visible gaze

Gazing upon you with an eye intent.

غَرِّدْ فَفي قَلبي إليكَ مَوَدَّةٌ

لَكِنْ مَوَدَّةُ طائرٍ مَأسورِ

Sing! For in my heart I have affection for you

Sing, for in my heart lies love for you,

But the affection of an imprisoned bird

Yet 'tis the love of a bird in captivity;

هَجَرَتْهُ أسْرابُ الحمائمِ وانْبَرَتْ

لِعَذابِهِ جنِّيةُ الدَّيْجورِ

The doves’ flocks deserted him and the

Forsaken by the flocks of doves, and beset

Genies of delusion set upon his torment

By the demon of darkness meant for his torment.

غَرِّدْ ولا تُرْهِبْ يميني إنَّني

مِثْلُ الطُّيورِ بمُهْجَتي وضَميري

Sing and do not frighten me, I am like the birds

Sing, and fear not my right hand, for truly I

In my passion and conscience

Am like the birds in my spirit and my soul.

لكنْ لَقَدْ هاضَ التُّرابُ مَلامعي

فَلَبِثْتُ مِثلَ البُلبلِ المَكْسورِ

But the soil has dimmed my glimmers

But the dust of earth has shattered my wings,

And I remained like the broken nightingale

So I remained like a nightingale broken,

أشدُو برنّاتِ النِّياحَةِ والأسى

مشبوبةً بعواطفي وشُعوري

I intone the tunes of sorrow and grief

Chanting with the resonance of wailing and grief,

Infused with my emotions and feelings

Kindled by my passions and my sensing.

غرِّدْ ولا تَحْفَل بقلبي إنَّهُ

كالمِعْزَفِ المُتَحَطِّمِ المَهْجورِ

Sing and pay no heed to my heart, it is

Sing, and pay no heed to my heart, for it is

Like the shattered abandoned tune

Like a musical instrument, shattered and shunned.

رتِّل على سَمْع الرَّبيعِ نشيدَهُ

واصْدَحْ بفيْضِ فؤادك المَسْجورِ

Chant to the spring’s ear its hymn

Recite to the hearing of Spring his anthem,

And pour out the abundance of your enraptured heart

And peal forth the flow of your burning heart.

وانْشِدْ أناشيدَ الجَمال فإنَّها

روحُ الوُجودِ وسَلْوَةُ المَقْهورِ

And sing the hymns of beauty, for they are

And sing the canticles of Beauty, for she is

The spirit of existence and solace for the oppressed

The spirit of existence and solace to the oppressed.

أنا طائرٌ مُتَغرِّدٌ مُتَرنِّمٌ

لكِنْ بصوتِ كآبتي وزَفيري

I am a singing, chanting bird

I am a bird, warbling and humming too,

But with the voice of my gloom and sighing

Yet with the voice of my melancholy and my sighs.

يَهْتاجُني صوتُ الطُّيورِ لأنَّه

مُتدفِّقُ بِحَرارةٍ وطَهورِ

The birds' voices delight me, for they

The voice of birds stirs me, for it comes

Flow with warmth and purity

Flowing with warmth and purity.

مَا في وجود النَّاسِ من شيءٍ به

يَرضَى فؤادي أو يُسَرُّ ضَميري

There is nothing among people's existence

There is naught in the existence of men

That satisfies or gladdens my heart or conscience

To satisfy my heart or please my conscience.

فإذا استَمَعْتُ حديثهم ألْفَيْتُهُ

غَثًّا يَفيض بِركَّةٍ وفُتورِ

And when I listen to their talk, I find it

If I listen to their speech, I find it

Nonsense overflowing with vulgarity and lassitude

Vapid, overflowing with feebleness and sloth.

وإذا حَضَرْتُ جُموعَهُمْ ألْفَيْتَني

مَا بينهمْ كالبُلبلِ المأسورِ

And when I attend their crowds, I find myself

And were I to attend their throngs, you would find me

Among them like an imprisoned nightingale

Amidst them like a nightingale in chains,

متوحِّداً بِعَواطفي ومَشاعِري

وخَواطري وكَآبَتي وسُروري

Isolated with my emotions, feelings

Solitary in my emotions and my feelings,

Thoughts, sorrows and joys

In my thoughts, my melancholy, and my joy.

يَنتابُني حَرَجُ الحياةِ كأنَّني

مِنهمْ بِوَهْدَة جَنْدَلٍ وصُخورِ

The discomforts of life seize me as if

The constraint of life assails me, as if I were

I am set apart from them like a rock and boulders

Among them in a pit of boulders and stone.

فإذا سَكَتُّ تضجَّروا وإذا نَطَقْتُ

تذمَّروا من فكْرَتي وشُعوري

And if I stay silent they frown, and if I speak

If I fall silent, they fret; and if I speak,

They resent my ideas and feelings

They grumble at my thoughts and sentiment.

آهٍ منَ النَّاسِ الذين بَلَوْتُهُمْ

فَقَلَوْتُهُمْ في وحشتي وحُبوري

Alas for the people I have tried

Alas for the people whom I have tested,

And found bitter in my solitude and captivity

And came to loathe in my solitude and my mirth.

مَا منهُمُ إلاَّ خَبيثٌ غادِرٌ

متربِّصٌ بالنَّاسِ شَرَّ مَصيرِ

There is not one among them except wicked traitors

Not one is among them but a malicious traitor,

Waiting to harm people in the worst fate

Lying in wait for the direst fate to befall mankind,

ويَودُّ له مَلَكَ الوُجودَ بأسره

ورمى الوَرَى في جاحِمٍ مَسْجورِ

And wishing to possess all existence

Who wishes he possessed the whole of existence,

And cast humanity into raging inferno

While casting creation into a blazing hell,

لِيَبُلَّ غُلَّتَهُ التي لا ترتوي

ويَكُضَّ تُهْمَةَ قلبهِ المَغْفورِ

To satisfy his insatiable greed

To slake a thirst that is never quenched,

And quell the darkness of his condemned heart

And suppress the guilt of his absolved heart.

وإذا دخلتُ إلى البلادِ فإنَّ أَف

كاري تُرَفْرِفُ في سُفوحِ الطُّورِ

And when I enter the countryside, my thoughts

When I enter the cities, my thoughts

Flutter on the slopes of the mountains

Flutter upon the foothills of the Mount,

حيثُ الطَّبيعَةُ حُلوةٌ فتَّانَةٌ

تختال بَيْنَ تَبَرُّجٍ وسُفُورِ

Where nature is sweet and alluring

Where Nature is sweet and captivating,

Swaying between coquetry and revelation

Strutting between adornment and unveiling.

مَاذا أَوَدُّ مِنَ المدينَةِ وهي غا

رقةٌ بموَّارِ الدَّمِ المَهدورِ

What do I want from the city as it is drowning

What do I desire of the City, while it lies

In the blood of the wronged poured out

Drowning in surging tides of wasted blood?

مَاذا أَوَدُّ مِنَ المدينَةِ وهي لا

ترثي لصوتِ تَفجُّع المَوْتُورِ

What do I want from the city as it does not

What do I desire of the City, while it shows

Mourn the voice of the suffering oppressed

No pity for the voice of the grieving victim?

مَاذا أَوَدُّ مِنَ المدينَةِ وهي لا

تَعْنو لغَير الظَّالمِ الشَّرِّيرِ

What do I want from the city as it does not

What do I desire of the City, while it bows

Care for any but the unjust wicked

To none but the wicked oppressor?

مَاذا أَوَدُّ مِنَ المدينَةِ وهي مُر

تادٌ لكلِّ دَعَارَةٍ وفُجُورِ

What do I want from the city as it is a haven

What do I desire of the City, while it is

For every depravity and immorality

A haunt for all vice and debauchery?

يا أَيُّها الشَّادي المغرِّدُ ههنا

ثَمِلاً بغبطة قَلْبِهِ المسرورِ

O you who sing blissfully here

O chanting warbler singing here,

Full of the joy of your delighted heart

Intoxicated by the bliss of a heart purely glad,

قبِّل أَزاهيرَ الرَّبيعِ وغنِّها

رَنَمَ الصَّباحِ الضَّاحِك المحبورِ

Kiss the spring’s flowers and sing them

Kiss the blossoms of Spring and sing to them

The laughing delighted morning has blossomed

The melody of the laughing, joyous morn,

واشرب مِنَ النَّبْعِ الجميل الملتوي

مَا بَيْنَ دَوْحِ صَنَوبَرٍ وغَديرِ

And drink from the beautiful twisting stream

And drink from the beautiful, winding spring,

Between pine grove and brook

Amidst the pine grove and the brook,

واتْرُكْ دموعَ الفجرِ في أَوراقِها

حتَّى تُرشِّفَهَا عَرُوسُ النُّورِ

And leave the dawn’s tears on its leaves

And leave the tears of dawn upon the leaves,

Until the bride of light moistens them

Until the Bride of Light comes to sip them away.

فَلَرُبَّما كانتْ أَنيناً صاعداً

في اللَّيلِ مِنْ متوجِّعٍ مَقْهُورِ

For they may have been a rising moan

For perhaps they were a moan ascending

In the night from an oppressed sufferer

In the night from one in pain and oppressed,

ذَرَفَتْهُ أَجفانُ الصَّباحِ مدامعاً

أَلاَّقَةً في دَوْحةٍ وزُهورِ

The morning eyelids shed them as tears

Which the eyelids of the morning shed as tears,

Scattered in a pine grove and flowers

Glistening upon the thicket and the flowers.