اِختَرتَ يَومَ الهَولِ يَومَ وَداعِ
وَنَعاكَ في عَصفِ الرِياحِ الناعي
You chose the day of terror for your day of farewell,
And amid the raging winds the herald mourned you.
هَتَفَ النُعاةُ ضُحىً فَأَوصَدَ دونَهُم
جُرحُ الرَئيسِ مَنافِذَ الأَسماعِ
The mourners called at morning, but against them
The president’s wound sealed every passage of hearing.
مَن ماتَ في فَزَعِ القِيامَةِ لَم يَجِد
قَدَماً تُشَيِّعُ أَو حَفاوَةَ ساعي
Whoever dies amid the panic of Doomsday finds
No foot to follow him, no welcome from one who comes.
ما ضَرَّ لَو صَبَرَت رِكابُكَ ساعَةً
كَيفَ الوُقوفُ إِذا أَهابَ الداعي
What harm if your mounts had waited one more hour?
But how could they halt once the caller summoned?
خَلِّ الجَنائِزَ عَنكَ لا تَحفِل بِها
لَيسَ الغُرورُ لِمَيِّتٍ بِمَتاعِ
Leave funeral processions behind; pay them no heed—
Vanity is no provision for the dead.
سِر في لِواءِ العَبقَرِيَّةِ وَاِنتَظِم
شَتّى المَواكِبِ فيهِ وَالأَتباعِ
March beneath the banner of genius and take your place
Among its many processions and its followers.
وَاِصعَدَ سَماءَ الذِكرِ مِن أَسبابِها
وَاِظهَر بِفَضلٍ كَالنَهارِ مُذاعِ
Ascend the heaven of renown by its pathways,
And shine with merit, proclaimed abroad like day.
فُجِعَ البَيانُ وَأَهلُهُ بِمُصَوِّرٍ
لَبِقٍ بِوَشيِ المُمتِعاتِ صَناعِ
Eloquence and all its people mourn an artist,
A deft craftsman in embroidering delights—
مَرموقِ أَسبابِ الشَبابِ وَإِن بَدَت
لِلشَيبِ في الفَودِ الأَحَمِّ رَواعي
Distinguished by the tokens of youth, although
Gray hair had sent scouts into the raven-dark temple.
تَتَخَيَّلُ المَنظومَ في مَنثورِهِ
فَتَراهُ تَحتَ رَوائِعِ الأَسجاعِ
One could imagine measured verse within his prose
And see it beneath the splendors of his rhymed cadences.
لَم يَجحَدِ الفُصحى وَلَم يَهجُم عَلى
أُسلوبِها أَو يُزرِ بِالأَوضاعِ
He neither disavowed classical Arabic nor assaulted
Its style, nor brought its forms into contempt.
لَكِن جَرى وَالعَصرَ في مِضمارِها
شَوطاً فَأَحرَزَ غايَةَ الإِبداعِ
Rather, he and his age raced within its course;
He ran his lap and reached the goal of innovation.
حُرُّ البَيانِ قَديمُهُ وَجَديدُهُ
كَالشَمسِ جِدَّةَ رُقعَةٍ وَشُعاعِ
Eloquence is free—its ancient and its new—
Like the sun, forever fresh in compass and in ray.
يونانُ لَو بيعَت بِهوميرٍ لَما
خَسِرَت لَعَمرُكَ صَفقَةُ المُبتاعِ
Had Greece been sold in exchange for Homer,
The buyer, by your life, would have made no losing bargain.
يا مُرسِلَ النَظَراتِ في الدُنيا وَما
فيها عَلى ضَجَرٍ وَضيقِ ذِراعِ
O you who cast your gaze upon the world and all
Within it, weary and sorely constrained,
وَمُرَقرِقَ العَبَراتِ تَجري رِقَّةً
لِلعالَمِ الباكي مِنَ الأَوجاعِ
And you who let your tears run clear and tender
For the weeping world and all its pains:
مَن ضاقَ بِالدُنيا فَلَيسَ حَكيمَها
إِنَّ الحَكيمَ بِها رَحيبُ الباعِ
Whoever finds the world constricting is no sage of it;
Its true sage ranges through it with ample reach.
هِيَ وَالزَمانُ بِأَرضِهِ وَسَمائِهِ
في لُجَّةِ الأَقدارِ نِضوُ شِراعِ
The world and Time, with all his earth and sky,
Are but a weather-beaten sail upon the sea of destinies.
مَن شَذَّ ناداهُ إِلَيهِ فَرَدَّهُ
قَدَرٌ كَراعٍ سائِقٍ بِقِطاعِ
Whoever strays, Fate calls back and restores,
Like a shepherd driving on his flock.
ما خَلفُهُ إِلّا مَقودٌ طائِعٌ
مُتَلَفِّتٌ عَن كِبرِياءِ مُطاعِ
Behind Fate trails none but one bridled and obedient,
Looking back upon the pride of having once been obeyed.
جَبّارُ ذِهنٍ أَو شَديدُ شَكيمَةٍ
يَمضي مُضِيَّ العاجِزِ المُنصاعِ
A tyrant intellect or one of iron will
Moves on as helplessly as any yielding man.
مَن شَوَّهَ الدُنيا إِلَيكَ فَلَم تَجِد
في المُلكِ غَيرَ مُعَذَّبينَ جِياعِ
Who disfigured the world for you, until you found
Throughout its realm only the tortured and the hungry?
أَبِكُلِّ عَينٍ فيهِ أَو وَجهٍ تَرى
لَمَحاتِ دَمعٍ أَو رُسومِ دِماعِ
Is it in every eye and every face you see
A glint of tears, the lineaments of weeping?
ما هَكَذا الدُنيا وَلَكِن نُقلَةٌ
دَمعُ القَريرِ وَعَبرَةُ المُلتاعِ
The world is not so; it is a shifting round—
The tear of one at ease, the tear of one distraught.
لا الفَقرُ بِالعَبَراتِ خُصَّ وَلا الغِنى
غِيَرُ الحَياةِ لَهُنَّ حُكمُ مَشاعِ
Neither poverty alone is marked for tears, nor wealth;
Life’s vicissitudes impose on them a common law.
ما زالَ في الكوخِ الوَضيعِ بَواعِثٌ
مِنها وَفي القَصرِ الرَفيعِ دَواعي
Always within the humble hut are motives
For tears, and in the lofty palace causes too.
في القَفرِ حَيّاتٌ يُسَيِّبُها بِهِ
حاوي القَضاءِ وَفي الرِياضِ أَفاعي
In the wastes are snakes, released there
By Fate the snake-charmer—and in gardens, vipers.
وَلَرُبَّ بُؤسٍ في الحَياةِ مُقَنَّعٍ
أَربى عَلى بُؤسٍ بِغَيرِ قِناعِ
Many a misery in life goes masked
And outweighs a misery that wears no veil.
يا مُصطَفى البُلَغاءِ أَيَّ يَراعَةٍ
فَقَدوا وَأَيَّ مُعَلِّمٍ بِيَراعِ
O choicest of the eloquent, what a pen
They have lost—and what a master of the pen!
اليَومَ أَبصَرتَ الحَياةَ فَقُل لَنا
ماذا وَراءَ سَرابِها اللَمّاعِ
Today you have seen life; then tell us
What lies beyond its glittering mirage.
وَصِفِ المَنونَ فَكَم قَعَدتَ تَرى لَها
شَبَحاً بِكُلِّ قَرارَةٍ وَيَفاعِ
Describe death—for how often you sat watching
Its specter in every hollow and upon every height.
سَكَنَ الأَحِبَّةُ وَالعِدى وَفَرَغتَ مِن
حِقدِ الخُصومِ وَمِن هَوى الأَشياعِ
Friends and foes are still, and you are free from
The rancor of enemies and the bias of partisans.
كَم غارَةٍ شَنّوا عَلَيكَ دَفَعتَها
تَصِلُ الجُهودَ فَكُنَّ خَيرَ دِفاعِ
How many raids they launched against you; you repelled them,
Joining endeavor to endeavor—the finest defense.
وَالجُهدُ موتٍ في الحَياةِ ثِمارَهُ
وَالجُهدُ بَعدَ المَوتِ غَيرُ مُضاعِ
Toil is a kind of death in life; its fruits—
The toil that lives beyond death—are never lost.
فَإِذا مَضى الجيلُ المِراضُ صُدورُهُ
وَأَتى السَليمُ جَوانِبَ الأَضلاعِ
When the generation sick at heart has passed,
And a sound generation comes, sound in every limb,
فَاِفزَع إِلى الزَمَنِ الحَكيمِ فَعِندَهُ
نَقدٌ تَنَزَّهَ عَن هَوىً وَنِزاعِ
Appeal to wise Time, for in its keeping lies
A judgment purified of passion and dispute.
فَإِذا قَضى لَكَ أُبتَ مِن شُمِّ العُلا
بِثَنِيَّةٍ بَعُدَت عَلى الطَلّاعِ
When judgment falls for you, you will return from glory’s peaks
By a mountain pass beyond the reach of climbers.
وَأَجَلُّ ما فَوقَ التُرابِ وَتَحتَهُ
قَلَمٌ عَلَيهِ جَلالَةُ الإِجماعِ
Most exalted of all above the earth and under it
Is a pen that bears the majesty of common acclaim.
تِلكَ الأَنامِلُ نامَ عَنهُنَّ البِلى
عُطِّلنَ مِن قَلَمٍ أَشَمَّ شُجاعِ
Those fingers—decay has slept and passed them by—
Lie idle now, bereft of a proud and valiant pen.
وَالجُبنُ في قَلَمِ البَليغِ نَظيرُهُ
في السَيفِ مَنقَصَةٌ وَسوءُ سَماعِ
Cowardice in an eloquent writer’s pen has its counterpart
In a sword: a defect and a cause of ill repute.
