ما لِلهُمومِ الطارِقاتِ وَمالي

أَسهَرنَني وَرَقَدنَ عَن أَوجالي

The sorrows that haunt me in the darkness, what business have they with me?

What have these nightly cares to do with me?

They have kept me awake and prevented me from resting.

They keep me wakeful while they sleep, heedless of my dread.

أَمسَينَ مِلءَ جَوانِحي ما نابَني

خَطبٌ وَلا خَطَرَ الغَرامُ بِبالي

My heart is full of cares that have not crossed my mind before.

They fill my ribs, though no fresh calamity has struck,

I am in love though age has sprinkled my temples with white.

Nor has the thought of passion crossed my mind.

أَهوى وَقَد عَبَثَ المَشيبُ بِمِفرَقي

لَيسَ الغِوايَةُ لِلكَبيرِ البالي

Indulgence does not become the aged and world-weary.

Shall I love, when gray hair has toyed with my crown?

There is no malady for which oblivion is the cure,

Such folly suits not one worn out by age.

ما ثَمَّ داءٌ يُستَطارُ لَهُ الكَرى

ما ثَمَّ غَيرُ كَآبَةٍ وَمَلالِ

Only sadness and ennui remain.

There is no sickness here to banish sleep;

I gaze at the stars in the dark as though they were

There is nothing here but melancholy and weariness.

أَرعى الثَواقِبَ في الظَلامِ كَأَنَّها

زَهرُ الحَدائِقِ أَو نَثيرُ لَآلي

The flowers of gardens or the tinkling of ornaments.

I watch the piercing stars in the darkness, as if they were

As though the thorns of the cactus were in my bed,

Garden blooms or scattered pearls.

وَكَأَنَّما شَوكُ القَتادِ بِمَضجَعي

وَكَأَنَّ حَشوَ وِسادَتي بَلبالي

And the stuffing of my pillows were hyacinths.

It is as if thorns of tragacanth fill my bed,

When my disquieting thoughts close in upon me

And as if my pillow is stuffed with my own unease.

حَتّى إِذا عَكَفَت عَلَيَّ وَساوِسي

وَنَبا الفِراشُ نَزَعتُ لِلتَجوالِ

And the bed becomes uncomfortable, I get up and go out walking,

Until, when my dark whispers crowded round me,

I come out like the dead emerging from their graves

And the bed grew harsh, I longed to roam.

فَخَرجتُ كَالمَشورِ بَعدَ مَماتِهِ

وَرَكِبتُ مَتنَ اللَيلِ غَيرُ مُبالِ

And mount the back of the night uncaring,

So I went forth like a spirit risen from the dead,

I go along the paths with their shadows, released, it seems

Riding the back of the night, indifferent to all.

وَذَهَبتُ أَختَرِقُ المَسالِكَ مُدلِجاً

وَكَأَنَّما أُطلِقتُ مِن أَغلالِ

From my shackles, speeding though I know not whither

I went piercing the pathways in the deep dark,

In pursuit of some hope among hopes.

As though I had been unleashed from iron chains.

أَسعى وَما مِن غايَةٍ أَسعى لَها

سَعيِ إِلى أَمَلٍ مِنَ الآمالِ

I am stopped in my tracks by the clamour of a tavern

I wander with no destination in sight,

That holds its habitués enthralled.

Unlike one who strives toward a cherished hope.

فَاِستَوقَفَتني ضَجَّةٌ في حانَةٍ

حَبَسَت مَقاعِدَها عَلى الجُهّالِ

They crowd around the dancing girl drinking her in

Then I was halted by a clamor from a tavern,

Like birds around a scarecrow with tinkling anklets.

Whose benches were reserved for the ignorant.

حاموا عَلى الصَهباءِ يَرتَشِفونَها

كَالطَيرِ حَولَ مُصَفِّقٍ سَلسالِ

In the heedlessness of the drinkers in the deepening gloom -

They hovered over the wine, sipping it,

Indeed, the heedlessness of the drinkers is happiness -

Like birds around a clear, flowing spring.

في غَفلَةِ العُذّالِ في غَسَقِ الدُجى

إِنَّ السَعادَةَ غَفلَةُ العُذّالِ

Their reason and bloom of youth are plundered

Hidden from critics in the twilight gloom—

By the cunning and deceitful tavern keeper.

For happiness is but the absence of those who blame.

نَهبَ الكُؤوسِ عُقولُهُم وَنُضارُهُم

نَهبَ المُديرِ الخادِعِ الخَتّالِ

He sends them to their deaths under the guise of generosity;

Their minds are plundered by the cups, and their gold

Truly evil is the wine whose headache in the morning

Is the plunder of the cunning, treacherous host.

أَمسى يَسوقُ إِلَيهِم آجالَهُم

وَحُتوفَهُم في صورَةِ الجِريالِ

Becomes the fetter of cares and the pledge of regrets.

He drives their dooms toward them,

O robber of souls, show some pity,

Serving them death in the guise of red wine.

شَرَّ الشَرابِ الخَمرُ يُصبِحُ صَبُّها

قَيدَ الضَنى وَيَبيتُ رَهنَ خِبالِ

It should suffice you that you have robbed them of their money.

The worst of drinks is wine; its lover wakes

Do not debase those souls, though they are fickle;

Shackled by infirmity and sleeps a hostage to ruin.

يا سالِبَ الأَرواحِ بَعضَ تَرَفُّقٍ

يَكفيكَ أَنَّكَ سالِبَ الأَموالِ

Souls, however small, are a divine trust.

O thief of souls, have some mercy!

And then I see a drunkard wandering in a daze -

Is it not enough that you steal their wealth?

لا تَفَعَنَّ تِلكَ النُفوسِ إِلى الرَدى

إِنَّ النُفوسَ وَإِن صَغُرنَ غَوالي

Crazed, stumbling, wavering in his steps as though

Do not drive these souls to destruction,

He were walking on hot embers,

For souls are precious, however humble they may be.

وَإِذا بِمَخمورٍ يَتيهِ مُعَربِداً

خَبَلٌ بِهِ ما ذاكَ تيهُ دَلالِ

Reeling to and fro like a bough between the north wind and the zephyr,

Suddenly, a drunkard stumbled by, raving—

Wine has tied his tongue though he sees clearly and moves

Possessed by madness, not the swagger of pride.

حَيرانُ مُضطَرِبُ اخُطى فَكَأَنَّما

قَد راحَ يَمشي فَوقَ جَمرٍ صالِ

His limbs with ease. He falls like a gallant steed to the ground,

Bewildered, his steps unsteady, as if

Crushed by burdens too heavy to bear.

He were walking upon burning coals.

مُتَخَمِّطٌ في سَيرِهِ مُتَأَوِّدٌ

كَالغُصنِ بَينَ صَباً وَبَينَ شَمالِ

And the policeman approaches him with swaggering stride

He lurched in his gait, swaying

Glancing to either side of him like a languishing lover

Like a branch between the east wind and the north.

عَقَدَ الشَرابُ لِسانَهُ وَلَقَد يَرى

طَلقاً وَفَكَّ مَجامِعَ الأَوصالِ

Watching out for the forbidding chaperone.

Drink had knotted his tongue, once so eloquent,

And I saw his club sticking out of his pocket,

And unraveled the very joints of his limbs.

فَكَبا كَما يَكبو الجَوادُ عَلى الثَرى

شُدَّت عَلَيهِ فَوادِحُ الأَثقالِ

So I understood the reason for the fraud's restlessness.

He collapsed face-down like a steed upon the earth,

Do not wonder at what I tell you of him -

Weighed down by crushing burdens.

وَتَقَدَّمَ الشُرطِيُّ يَمشي نَحوَهُ

مَشيَ الفَخورِ بِنَفسِهِ المُختالِ

Imagine how much villainy that garment conceals!

Then a policeman advanced toward him,

Then he bent over smiling, and I saw a youth

With the strut of the vainglorious and proud.

مُتَلَفِّتاً عَن جانِبَيهِ كَعاشِقٍ

مُتَلَفِّتٍ حَذَرَ الرَقيبِ القالي

In tattered clothes lying prostrate.

Glancing side to side like a lover,

He went up to him and nudged him but found only a lifeless body.

Who fears the gaze of a hateful spy.

وَرَأَيتُهُ وَبَنانُهُ في جَيبِهِ

فَعَلِمتُ سِرَّ تَلَفُّتِ المُحتالِ

He bent down over him, embracing him while copious tears

I saw his fingers slip into the man's pocket,

Flowed from him like a streaming cloud.

And knew then the secret of his furtive glances.

لا تَعجَبوا مِمّا أُحَدِّثُكُم بِهِ

كَم تَحتَ ذاكَ الثَوبِ مِن نَشّالِ

He brought the news to his family and they broke into laments

Do not marvel at the tale I tell;

While his wife loudly bewailed her misfortune.

How many pickpockets hide beneath that uniform!

ثُمَّ اِنثَنى مُتَبَسِّماً وَإِذا فَتىً

غَضَّ الإِهابَ مُمَزِّقَ السِربالِ

They had wept until their tears were spent, then humiliated him

He turned away smiling. Then appeared a youth,

Though tears may not always be shameful.

Tender of skin, with clothes in tatters.

وافى فَحَرَّكَهُ فَأَلفى جُثَّةً

هَمَدَت فَأَجفَلَ أَيُّما إِجفالِ

And I saw his little children bewildered

He approached and shook him, finding only a corpse,

By their plight, yearning for their father.

Silent and cold, and he recoiled in sheer terror.

وَحَنى عَلَيهِ يَضُمُّهُ وَدُموعُهُ

تَنهَلُّ مِثلَ العارِضِ الهَطّالِ

They do not understand grief, only sob vaguely -

He bent over to embrace him, while his tears

What is grief to little ones but sobbing?

Poured down like rain from a heavy cloud.

وَأَتى ذَويهِ نَعيُهُ فَتَأَلَّبوا

وَالغيدُ تُعيلُ أَيُّما إِعوالِ

I did not know, until they enshrouded him,

The news of his death reached his kin; they gathered,

That the truly wretched is he who leaves orphans.

And the young women raised a mighty wail.

أَرخَصنَ ماءَ الجَفنِ ثُمَّ أَذَلنَهُ

وَلَقَد يَكونُ الدَمعُ غَيرَ مُذالِ

I grieved for him, shroudless, his hand did not wield the sword

They spent the water of their eyes freely, humbling it,

Or march out to battle.

Though tears are usually held dear and not debased.

وَلَقَد شَهِدتُ صِغارَهُ في حَيرَةٍ

مِن أَمرِهِم لَهَفي عَلى الأَشبالِ

He perished, victim of his ignorance - how many wretched souls

I saw his little ones lost in confusion—

Have died as martyrs of ignorance and neglect!

Oh, how my heart aches for those young cubs!

لا يَفقَهونَ الحُزنَ غَيرَ تَأَوُّهٍ

ما الحُزنُ غَيرُ تَأُوُّهِ الأَطفالِ

I returned, my heart rent with sorrow, and poured out my lament to you

They know not grief save as a sigh;

And mourned the condition of the workers:

Yet what is true grief if not the sighing of a child?

ما كُنتُ أَعلَمُ قَبلَما حَفّوا بِهِ

أَنَّ الشَقِيَّ الجَدَّ رَبُّ عِيالِ

Shelterless, in the claws of hardship,

I did not know, until they gathered round him,

While over them hover the claws of beasts of prey.

That one so wretched was master of a household.

أَسَفي عَلَيهِ مُضَرَّجاً لَم تَمتَشِق

يَدُهُ الحُسامَ وَلَم يَسِر لِقِتالِ

Ignorance and poverty - two fatal dangers! Nothing is more deadly

I grieve for him, fallen and bloodstained, though

Than the coming together of ignorance and want.

His hand drew no sword, nor did he march to war.

أَودى ضَحِيَّةَ جَهلِهِ كَم بائِسٍ

أَودى شَهيدَ الجَهلِ وَالإِهمالِ

Come to the aid of your brothers, for their lives

He perished, a victim of his own ignorance; how many wretches

Are beset by fearsome perils and tribulations!

Die as martyrs to neglect and folly!

فَرَجِعتُ مَصدوعَ الفُؤادِ أَبُثُّكُم

شَجوي وَأَندُبُ حالَةَ العُمّالِ

How fitting it would be for the ignorant folk to learn -

I returned with a broken heart to share my sorrow,

Knowledge is the source of awe and majesty.

Lamenting the plight of the working poor.

باتوا مِنَ الأَرزاءِ بَينَ مَخالِبٍ

مِن دونِهِنَّ مَخالِبُ الرِئبالِ

Struggle to spread knowledge among them, for when

They sleep amidst calamities, caught in claws

The clouds pour down, the valleys are clearly revealed.

Sharper than the talons of a lion.

خَطرانِ مِن جَهلٍ وَفَقرٍ ما الرَدى

غَيرُ اِجتِماعِ الجَهلِ وَالإِقلالِ

When an ignorant man learns and finds guidance,

Two perils: ignorance and want. For what is ruin,

He brings enlightenment to his people and family.

If not the union of ignorance and need?

فَخُذوا بِناصِرِهِم فَإِنَّ حَياتَهُم

في مَأزَقٍ حَرِجٍ مِنَ الأَهوالِ

O people! If you do not help your poor,

So rise to their aid, for their lives

Why then such hoarding of wealth?

Are trapped in a desperate strait of terrors.

ما أَجَدَرَ الجُهَلاءِ أَن يَتَعَلَّموا

فَالعِلمُ مَصدَرُ هَيبَةً وَجَلالِ

Why not rest content with praise as treasure enough?

How fitting it is for the ignorant to learn,

Surely praise is the treasure of the virtuous.

For knowledge is the source of dignity and awe.

فَاِسعوا لِنَشرِ العِلمِ فيهِم إِنَّما

فَضلُ الغَمامِ يُبينُ في الأَمحالِ

Are you not descended from those whose outstanding merit

Strive to spread learning among them;

Shines like stars in the greatest examples?

The cloud's bounty is most proven in the drought.

إِنَّ الجَهولَ إِذا تَعَلَّم وَاِهتَدى

بَثَّ الهُدى في صَحبِهِ وَالآلِ

Be generous! Only the praiseworthy survive,

For when the ignorant man learns and finds the way,

Wealth is a fleeting phantom.

He spreads light among his companions and kin.

يا قَومُ إِن لَم تُسعِفوا فُقَراءَكُم

فَلِمَ اِدِّخارُكُم إِذَن لِلمالِ

Alas! However numerous, possessions do not last,

O people, if you do not succor your poor,

How could they endure, when their Lord is destruction?

For what purpose do you hoard your wealth?

هَلّا رَضَيتُم بِالمَحامِدِ قَينَةً

إِنَّ المَحامِدَ قَنيَةُ المِفضالِ

Will you not accept praise as your treasure?

For praise is the true wealth of the noble soul.

أَو لَستُم أَبناءَ مَن سارَت بِهِم

في المَكرُماتِ رَوائِعُ الأَمثالِ

Are you not the sons of those whose deeds

Became the stuff of legends and proverbs?

جوداً فَغَيرُ الحَمدِ غَيرُ مُخَلَّدٍ

ما المالُ إِنَّ المالَ طَيفُ خَيالِ

Be generous! For nothing but praise is immortal.

What is wealth? Wealth is but a fleeting phantom.

هَيهاتِ ما يَبقى وَلَو عَدَدَ الحَصى

أَنّى يَدومُ وَرَبُهُ لِزَوالِ

Far from it! It shall not endure, though it be as the pebbles;

How can it last, when its master is bound for dust?