لَو كانَ حَيٌّ وائِلاً مِنَ التَلَف

لَوَأَلَت شَغواءُ في أَعلى شَعَف

Had he been alive, escaping ruin,

If any living soul could find refuge from decay,

The dove would have nested atop the tall stalks.

The crook-beaked eagle would have escaped upon the highest peak,

أُمُّ فُرَيخٍ أَحرَزَتهُ في لَجَف

مُزَغَّبَ الأَلغادِ لَم يَأكُل بِكَف

The mother of the chicks kept them in the burrow,

Mother to a little chick she guarded in a rocky cleft,

Pecking at scattered seeds, not eating with his beak.

With downy throat, who takes no meal by his own claw,

كَأَنَّهُ مُستَقعِدٌ مِنَ الخَرَف

هاتيكَ أَو عَصماءَ في أَعلى شَرَف

As if he were sitting back, lost in fantasy -

Sitting helpless as if crippled by old age;

Bring him here or keep him atop the high ledge,

Or the white-footed doe upon the towering heights,

تَروغُ في الطُبّاقِ وَالنَزعِ الأَلَف

أَودى جِماعُ العِلمِ مُذ أَودى خَلَف

Darting about the cage, accustomed to captivity,

Weaving through the sumac and the tangled boughs.

Knowledge died when its people passed away.

The sum of all knowledge perished the day Khalaf died,

مَن لا يُعَدُّ العِلمُ إِلّا ما عَرَف

قَلَيذَمٌ مِنَ العَياليمِ الخُسُف

Whoever does not consider knowledge but what they knew

He for whom true learning was measured only by what he knew,

Is an ignorant fool, lost and confused,

A brimming wellspring drawn from deep and ancient aquifers,

فَكُلَّما نَشاءُ مِنهُ نَغتَرِف

رِوايَةً لا تُجتَنى مِنَ الصُحُف

So whenever we desire, we draw from it

From which we scoop and drink whenever we desire,

A narrative not gathered from the scriptures.

Lore that is not merely gleaned from written scrolls.