أَنَا كَئِيبْ

أَنَا غَريبْ

I am melancholy,

I am a stranger,

كَآبتي خالَفَتْ نَظَائِرَهَا

غَرِيبَةٌ في عَوَالِمِ الحَزَن

My melancholy differs from all others of its kind,

A stranger in the realms of grief.

كَآبتي فِكْرَةٌ مُغَرِّدَةٌ

مَجْهُولةٌ مِنْ مَسَامِعِ الزَّمَنِ

My melancholy is a warbling thought,

Unknown to the ears of Time.

لكنَّني قَدْ سَمِعْتُ رَنَّتَها

بمُهْجَتي في شَبابِيَ الثَّمِلِ

Yet I have heard its resonating tone

Deep in my spirit, in my drunken youth.

سَمِعْتُها فانْصَرَفْتُ مُكْتَئِبَا

أَشْدو بحُزْنِي كطائِرِ الجَبَلِ

I heard it, and I turned away in gloom,

Chanting my sorrow like a mountain bird.

سَمِعْتُها أَنَّةً يرجِّعُها

صَوْتُ اللَّيالي ومُهْجَةُ الأزل

I heard it as a moan echoed back

By the voice of nights and the soul of Eternity.

سَمِعْتُها صَرْخَةً مُضَعْضَعَةً

كَجَدْوَلٍ في مَضايِقِ السُّبُلِ

I heard it as a shattered scream,

Like a stream trapped in narrow paths.

سَمِعْتُها رَنَّةً يعَانِقُها

شوقٌ إلى عالمٍ يُضَعْضِعُها

I heard it as a chime embraced by

A longing for a world that breaks it down;

ضَعيفةً مثلَ أنَّةٍ صَعَدَتْ

مِنْ مُهْجَةٍ هدَّها تَوَجُّعُها

Frail as a moan that has risen up

From a spirit crumbled by its pain.

كآبَةُ النَّاسِ شُعلةٌ وَمَتى

مرَّتْ ليالٍ خَبَتْ مع الأَمَدِ

The sadness of others is a flame, and when

Some nights have passed, it fades with time;

أَمَّا اكتِئابي فَلَوْعَةٌ سَكَنَتْ

رُوحي وتَبْقَى بها إلى الأَبدِ

But my depression is an anguish that has dwelt

Within my soul, remaining there forever.

أَنا كئيبٌ أَنا غَريبٌ

وليسَ في عالمِ الكَآبَةِ مَنْ

I am melancholy; I am a stranger,

And in the world of melancholy, there is no one

يحمِلُ مِعْشارَ بَعْضِ مَا أَجِدُ

كآبتي مرَّةٌ وإنْ صَرَخَتْ

Who bears a tithe of what I endure.

My melancholy is bitter, and though

روحي فلا يسمعنَّها الجَسَدُ

كآبَتي ذاتُ قَسْوَةٍ صَهَرَتْ

My soul screams out, the body does not hear.

My melancholy holds a cruelty that forged

مَشَاعِري في جَهَنَّمَ الأَلَمِ

لمْ يسمَعِ الدَّهْرُ مِثْلَ قَسْوَتِها

My feelings in the very hell of pain.

Time has never heard of such cruelty,

في يَقْظَةٍ قطُّ لا ولا حُلُمِ

كآبتي شُعْلةٌ مؤجَّجَةٌ

In waking life, nor even in a dream.

My melancholy is a raging fire,

تحتَ رَمَادِ الكَوْنِ تستعرُ

سَيَعْلَمُ الكَوْنُ مَا حَقِيقَتُهَا

Burning beneath the ashes of the universe.

The cosmos shall perceive its true nature,

ويَطْلَعُ الفَجْرُ يومَ تَنْفَجِرَ

كآبةُ النَّاسِ شُعْلَةٌ ومتى

And dawn shall break the day that it explodes.

The sadness of others is a flame, and when

مرَّت ليالٍ خَبَتْ مِنَ الأَمَدِ

أَمَّا اكتئابي فَلَوْعَةٌ سَكَنَتْ

Some nights have passed, it fades with time;

But my depression is an anguish that has dwelt

رُوحي وَتَبْقَى بِها إلى الأَبَدِ

Within my soul, remaining there forever.