لَم يَبقَ ما يُسليكَ غَيرُ الكاسِ

فَاِشرَب وَدَع لِلناسِ ما لِلناسِ

No solace left but the wine cups' brims

Nothing remains to console you but the cup,

So drink and leave the people's affairs to themselves

So drink, and leave the concerns of people to the people.

ذَهَبَ الشَبابُ عَلى الشُجون تَبُثُّها

لِأَخٍ مُؤاسٍ أَو لِغَيرِ مُؤاسِ

Youth is gone, lost in griefs aired

Youth has vanished in the sorrows you pour out,

To a sympathetic brother or unsympathetic ear

To a consoling friend or to one who cares not.

وَعَلى الحَياةِ تَحارُ في أَطوارِها

وَتَحارُ في تَعليلِ كُلِّ نَطاسي

Perplexed, observing life's phases

And in life, bewildered by its shifting phases,

Perplexed, excusing every weakling

And baffled by the diagnosis of every physician,

ثُمَّ اِستَفَقتَ وَلَيسَ في رَوضِ المُنى

إِلّا الضَبابُ وَغَيرُ شَوكِ الياسِ

Then you awoke finding no flowers in the garden of bliss

Then you awakened, finding in the garden of wishes

Only mist and the barbs of despair

Nothing but mist and the thorns of despair.

وَجِراحُ نَفسٍ يَنظُرُ الآسي لَها

فَيَعودُ مُحتاجاً لِئاخَرَ آسِ

And a wounded soul whose pain the wretched beholds

And wounds of the soul which the healer tends,

So he returns needing one last solace

Only to return in need of a healer himself.

الحِسُّ مَجلَبَةُ الكَآبَةِ وَالأَسى

قُم نَنطَلِق مِن عالَمِ

Feeling is the shackle of gloom and sorrow

Sensation is the bringer of melancholy and grief;

Rise, let us leave this world

Rise, let us depart from this world,

وَأَرى السَعادَةَ لا وُصولَ لِعَرشِها

إِلّا بِأَجنِحَةٍ مِنَ الوَسواسِ

And I see that reaching happiness' throne

For I see that there is no reaching the throne of happiness

Is only with wings of obsession

Except upon the wings of delusion.

فَكَأَنَّما هِيَ صورَةٌ زَيتِيَّةٌ

لِلشَطِّ فيهِ مَراكِبٌ وَمَراسي

It's like an oil painting of the shore where ships and anchors lie

It is as if it were an oil painting

Ships seem to float to your eyes

Of a shore with boats and anchors;

تَبدو لِعَينَيكَ السَفائِنُ عُوَّماً

وَتَكادُ تَسمَعُ رَعشَةَ الأَمراسِ

And you almost hear the flutter of the sails

The ships appear afloat before your eyes,

But if you drew closer and touched it

And you can almost hear the trembling of the rigging,

لَكِن إِذا أَدنَيتَها وَلَمَستَها

لَم تَلقَ غَيرَ الصِبغِ وَالقِرطاسِ

You'd find only paint and canvas

But if you draw near and touch it,

A deceitful world and a tasting fate

You find nothing but pigment and canvas.

دُنيا مُزَيَّفَةٌ وَدَهرٌ ماذِقٌ

ما في اِنفِلاتِكَ مِنهُما مِن باسِ

You gain nothing by escaping them

A counterfeit world and a treacherous age;

The pleasures you wasted

There is no harm in escaping from them both.

إِنَّ اللَذاذاتِ الَّتي ضَيَّعتَها

رَجِعَت إِلَيكَ عُصارَةً في الكاسِ

Came back to you distilled in the cup

Indeed, the pleasures you have lost

So tint your vision with them to seem golden

Have returned to you, distilled within the cup.

فَاِصبِغ رُؤاكَ بِها تَعُد ذَهَبِيَّةً

عطِريَّةَ الأَلوانِ وَالأَنفاسِ

Fragrant in colors and breaths

So dye your visions with it, and they shall turn golden again,

And create with wine for yourself a paradise

Fragrant in their colors and their breaths.

وَاِخلِق لِنَفسِكَ بِالمُدامَةِ جَنَّةً

في الأَربُعِ المَهجورَةِ الأَدراسِ

In the four abandoned places

Create for yourself, with wine, a paradise

Where love is a nightingale and a vine

Amidst the abandoned, obliterated ruins,

الحُبُّ فيها بُلبُلٌ وَخَميلَةٌ

وَنَدىً وَأَضواءٌ عَلى الأَغراسِ

Dew and lights upon the trees

Where love is a nightingale and a lush thicket,

Your imagination gives the palace you create a sublimeness

And dew and light fall upon the saplings.

لِلقَصرِ يَخلُقُهُ خَيالَكَ رَوعَةٌ

كَالقَصرِ مِن جُدُرٍ وَمِن آسِ

Like a palace of walls and ceiling beams

The palace your imagination builds holds a splendor

Oh cupbearer, pass around its cups

Equal to any palace made of walls and stone foundation.

يا أَيُّها الساقي أَدِر كاساتِها

كَمَشاعِلِ الرُهبانِ في الأَغلاسِ

Like the monks' lanterns in the thickets

O Cupbearer, pass the goblets around,

Forget your worries, happy is not he who remembers

Like the torches of monks in the darkest hours.

وَاِنسَ الهُمومَ فَلَيسَ يَسعُدُ ذاكِرٌ

وَاِسقِ النُجومَ فَإِنَّها جُلّاسي

Serve the stars for they are gossipy

And forget your cares, for he who remembers finds no joy;

And make the boon companion's mind and heart drunk

And pour drink for the stars, for they are my companions.

وَاِصرَع بِها عَقلَ النَديمِ وَلُبَّهُ

ما نَغَّصَ الحاسي كَعَقلِ الحاسي

No sober mind annoyed like a sober mind

With it, strike down the mind and reason of the drinking companion;

And leave the discourse of politics and reform

Nothing troubles the drinker like his own intellect.

وَاِهجُر أَحاديثَ السِياسَةِ وَالأُلى

يَتَعَلَّقونَ بِحَبلِ كُلِّ سِياسي

They cling to the rope of every politician

Abandon talk of politics and those who

I cast aside its fruits when I tasted them

Cling to the rope of every politician.

إِنّي نَبَذتُ ثِمارَها مُذ ذُقتُها

وَوَجَدتُ طَعمَ الغَدرِ في أَدراسِ

And found the taste of betrayal in the bunches

I have cast aside its fruits since first tasting them,

And washed my peace of them, washing it

And finding the taste of treachery in my mouth.

وَغَسَلتُ مِنها راحَتي فَغَسَلتُها

مِن سائِرِ الأَوضارِ وَالأَدناسِ

Of all foulness and filth

I washed my hands of it, and thus cleansed them

And left them to two fools, a naïve one

Of all other impurities and filth.

وَتَرَكتُها لِاِثنَينِ غُرٍّ ساذَجٍ

وَمُشَعوِذٍ كَذُبذُبٍ دَسّاسِ

And a lying sorcerer, rotten cleaner

I left it to two: the naive fool,

Who accepts his homeland become colonized

And the charlatan, wavering and plotting.

يَرضى لِمَوطِنِهِ يَصيرُ مُواطِناً

وَتَصيرُ أُمَّتُهُ إِلى أَجناسِ

And his nation turn into different races

He consents for his homeland to be mere habitation,

And sells it for counted coins

While his nation splinters into warring factions.

وَيَبيعُها بِدَراهِمَ مَعدودَةٍ

وَلَوَ اِنَّها جاءَت مِنَ الخَنّاسِ

Even if they came from a shoe-shiner

Selling it for a few paltry coins,

No hypocrite has a deterring conscience

Even if they came from the Devil himself.

ما لِلمُنافِقِ مِن ضَميرٍ رادِعٍ

أَيُّ الضَميرِ لِحَيَّةِ الأَجراسِ

What conscience does that bell snake have?

The hypocrite possesses no restraining conscience;

And perhaps a blamer blames me for

What conscience has the rattlesnake?

وَلَرُبَّ قائِلَةٍ تُعاتُبُني عَلى

صَمتي وَبَعضُ القَولِ حَزُّ مَواسي

My silence, though some speech hurts a sympathizer

And many a woman has reproached me for

Two I have not faced harsher than

My silence, though some speech cuts like a razor.

إِثنانِ ما لاقَيتُ أَقسى مِنهُما

صَمتُ الدُجى وَالشاعِرِ الحَسّاسِ

The night's silence and the sensitive poet's

Two things I have encountered, none harsher than they:

So I answered her harsher and more dreadful than them

The silence of the deep night, and the sensitive poet.

فَأَجَبتُها أَقسى وَأَهوَلُ مِنهُما

في مَسمَعي هَذا العِتابِ القَسي

Was that harsh reprimand in my hearing

So I answered her: Harsher and more terrible than these

You did not know, and it's best you do not know

Is this harsh reproach falling upon my ears.

لَم تَعلَمي وَالخَيرُ أَن لا تَعلَمي

كَم في السُكوتِ فَواجِعاً وَمَآسي

How many horrors and catastrophes lie in silence

You do not know—and it is better you do not know—

She said she thought I'd forgotten, so I said: No,

What tragedies and disasters dwell within silence.

قالَت أَظُنُّكَ قَد نَسيتَ فَقُلتُ لا

ما كُنتُ بِالناسي وَلا المُتَناسي

I was neither forgetful nor forgetter

She said, "I think you have forgotten." I said, "No,"

But a wound, whenever I treated it

"I am neither forgetful nor feigning oblivion."

لَكِنَّ جُرحاً كُلَّما عالَجتَهُ

غَمَرَ القُنوطَ جَوارِحي وَحَواسي

Despondency flooded my senses and perceptions

"But there is a wound that, whenever I tend to it,"

And had it been in my head, I would have bandaged it

"Floods my limbs and senses with despair."

وَلَوَ اِنَّهُ في الرَأسِ كُنتُ ضَمَدتُهُ

لَكِنَّهُ في القَلبِ لا في الراسِ

But it is in the heart, not in the head

"Had it been in the head, I would have bandaged it,"

The reformers, I used to aim below them

"But it lies in the heart, not in the head."

إِنَّ الأُلى قَد كُنتُ أَرمي دونَهُم

غَلّوا يَدَيَّ وَحَطَّموا أَقواسي

They bound my hands and smashed my bow

Those for whom I once fought and defended,

And replaced my sword with wooden swords

Have shackled my hands and shattered my bows.

وَاِستَبدَلوا سَيفي الجِرازَ بِأَسيُفٍ

خُشبٍ وَباعوا عَسجَدي بِنُحاسِ

And sold my bow for copper

They exchanged my sharp sword for blades

Fools are no different, though they

Of wood, and sold my gold for copper.

وَالطَلُّ غَيرِ الماسِ إِلّا أَنَّهُم

خُدِعوا بِرَقرَقَةَ النَدى عَن ماسي

Were fooled by the shimmer of dew over copper

Dew is not diamond, yet they

And if you thought the garden's image

Were deceived by the shimmering dew, mistaking it for my diamonds.

وَإِذا حَسِبتَ الرَوضَ تُغَنّي صورَةٌ

عَنهُ فَذَلِكَ مُنتَهى الإِفلاسِ

Would suffice, that is the utmost bankruptcy

And if you think a mere picture can sing for the garden,

A marble lion, though its shape depicts

Then that is the very height of spiritual bankruptcy.

أَسَدُ الرُخامِ وَإِن حَكى في شَكلِهِ

شَكلَ الغَضَنفَرِ لَيسَ بِالفَرّاسِ

The shape of a snarling lion, it is no gallant lion

The marble lion, though it mimics the shape

I had a beautiful, genteel dream

Of the wild beast, cannot hunt.

قَد كانَ لي حُلُمٌ جَميلٌ مونِقٌ

فَأَضَعتُهُ لَمّا أَضَعتُ نُعاسي

But I lost it when I lost my sleep

I once held a beautiful, elegant dream,

I thought of what we are as a nation

Which I lost the moment I lost my slumber.

فَكَّرتُ في ما نَحنُ فيهِ كَأُمَّةٍ

وَضَرَبتُ أَخماسي إِلى أَسداسي

And clapped my palms to my cheeks

I reflected on our state as a nation,

So I returned as disappointed as could be

And I was lost in utter bewilderment.

فَرَجَعتُ أَخيَبَ ما يَكونُ مُؤَمِّلٌ

راجٍ وَأَخسَرَ ما يَكونُ الخاسي

With high hopes, and as losing as the loser

I returned, as disappointed as a hopeful man can be,

We hope for salvation from an oppressor by an oppressor

And as wretched as the greatest loser.

نَرجو الخَلاصَ بِغاشِمٍ مِن غاشِمٍ

لا يُنقَذُ النَخّاسَ مِن نَخّاسِ

A thief is not saved by a thief

We seek deliverance from one tyrant through another;

And we judge between Pleiades and dirt

But no slave-master saves us from another slave-master.

وَنَقيسُ ما بَينَ الثُرَيّا وَالثَرى

وَأُمورُنا تَجري بِغَيرِ قِياسِ

While our affairs run without measure

We measure the distance between the stars and the dust,

We invade other nations seeking glory

Yet our own affairs run without measure or logic.

نَغشى بِلادَ الناسِ في طَلَبِ العُلى

وَبِلادَنا مَتروكَةٌ لِلناسِ

While our nation is left to people

We roam the lands of others seeking glory,

We almost flatten ourselves on the ground, while in our land

While our own lands are abandoned to strangers.

نَكادُ نَفتَرِشُ الثَرى وَبِأَرضِنا

لِلأَجنَبِيِّ مَوائِدٌ وَكَراسي

Tables and notebooks for foreigners

We nearly sleep upon the dirt, while in our land,

And we blame those who emigrate for their forgetfulness

The foreigner enjoys feasts and thrones.

وَنَلومُ هاجِرَها عَلى نِسيانِهِ

وَاللائِمِ الناسينَ أَوَّلُ ناسي

But the blamer of the forgetful is the first forgetter

We blame the emigrant for his forgetfulness,

And we stay up bragging about blades and spears

Yet he who blames the forgetful is the first to forget.

وَنَبيتُ نَفخَر بِالصَوارِمِ وَالقَنا

وَرِقابُنا مَمدودَةٌ لِلفاسِ

While our necks are stretched out for the axe

We spend the night boasting of swords and spears,

How many cries to fate in our ears

While our necks are stretched out beneath the axe.

كَم صَيحَةٍ لِلدَهرِ في آذانِنا

مَرَّت كَما مَرَّت عَلى أَرماسِ

Have passed as they passed over milestones?

How many warnings has Time shouted in our ears,

Their sharp tongues and pretty manners

That passed us by as if passing over graves.

تُفنيكَ أَوجُهُهُم وَحُسنُ خَلاقِهِم

عَن كُلِّ وَردٍ في الرِياضِ وَآسِ

Distract you from every rose and fir in the gardens

Their faces and their fine character suffice you,

I am among them a lion who found his den

Replacing every rose and myrtle in the gardens.

أَنا بَينَهُم أَسَدٌ وَجَدتُ عَرينَتي

أَنا بَينَهُم ظَبيٌ وَجَدتُ كِناسي

I am among them a gazelle who found his thicket

Among them I am a lion who has found his den;

My homeland I love more than all the world

Among them I am a gazelle who has found his cover.

وَطَني أَحَبُّ إِلَيَّ مِن كُلِّ الدُنى

وَأَعَزُّ ناسٍ في البَرِيَّةِ ناسي

And my people are most precious in the wild

My homeland is dearer to me than the whole world,

So long live Syria we live for

And the most cherished people in creation are my own.

فَلتَحيَ سورِيّا الَّتي نَحيا لَها

وَليَحيى لُبنانُ الأَشَمِّ الراسِ

And long live Lebanon, mark of the head

So long live Syria, for whom we live,

And long live Lebanon, with its proud and towering peak.