بَكَيتَ الصِبا مِن قَبلِ أَن يَذهَبَ الصِبا

فَيا لَيتَ شِعري ما تَقولُ إِذا وَلّى

You wept for youth before youth could slip away,

You wept for youth before youth had even departed,

So I wonder what you will say when it’s gone.

So I wonder indeed what you will say when it is actually gone.

تَوَهَّمتَهُ يَبقى إِذا أَنتَ صُنتَهُ

عَنِ الشَفَةِ الحَمراءَ وَالمُقلَةِ الكُحلا

You thought it would last if you guarded it closely

You imagined it would remain if you shielded it

From the rosy lips and the kohl-rimmed eyes.

From the crimson lip and the kohl-darkened eye.

وَخِلتِ الهَوى جَهلاً فَلَم يَكُنِ الهُدى

أَخيراً سِوى الأَمرِ الَّذي خِلتَهُ جَهلا

But love in ignorance led you astray,

You mistook passion for ignorance, yet true guidance proved to be

And wisdom came only too late.

In the end, nothing other than the very thing you deemed ignorance.

خَشيتَ عَلَيهِ أَن يُطَوِّحَهُ الهَوى

فَأَلفاكَ هَذا الخَوفُ في الهُوَّةِ السُفلى

You feared passion would toss it aside,

You feared for youth, that love would cast it to ruin,

And this fear cast you down in the pit.

But this very fear has found you in the lowest abyss.

أَتَلجُمُ ماءَ النَهرِ عَن جَرَيانِهِ

مَخافَةَ أَن يَفنى إِذَن فَاِشرَبِ الوَحلا

Would you dam the river to keep it from flowing

Do you rein in the water of the river from flowing

Lest otherwise it would vanish? Then drink and be sated.

For fear it will run dry? Then go ahead, drink the mud.

سَيَبلى الصِبا مَهما حَرِصتَ عَلى الصِبا

فَدَعهُ يَذوقُ الحُبَّ مِن قَبلِ أَن يَبلى

However you strive to guard youth, it will fade.

Youth will wear away no matter how eagerly you guard it,

So let it taste love before it decays.

So let it taste love before it wears away.

فَما ديمَةٌ صَبَّت عَلى الصَخرِ مائَها

فَما أَنبَتَت زَهراً وَلا أَطلَعَت بَقلا

The rain showered endlessly on the rock

For no rain cloud that poured its waters upon a rock—

But sprouted no flowers, bore no herbs.

Growing neither flowers nor bringing forth herbs—

بِأَضيَعَ مِن بُردِ الشَبابِ عَلى اِمرِئٍ

إِذا اِستَطعَمَتهُ النَفسُ أَطعَمَها العَذلا

More futile than rain on a rock is youth

Is more wasted than the mantle of youth upon a man

Wasted on one whose heart craves but bitterness when hungry.

Who, when his soul craves a taste, feeds it rebuke.

فَلا تَكُ مِثلَ الأُقحُوانَةِ راعَها

مِنَ الحَقلِ أَن تُجنى فَلَم تَسكُنِ الحَقلا

Be not like the partridge, protecting her eggs

So do not be like the chamomile flower that was terrified

From the field, only to abandon the nest.

To be plucked from the field, and so did not dwell in the field.

وَأَعجَبَها الوادي فَلاذَت بِقاعِهِ

فَجاءَ عَلَيها السَيلُ في اللَيلِ وَاِستَتلى

The valley pleased her, so she sought its shelter,

The valley pleased it, so it took refuge in its depths,

But floodwaters came in the night, and she was swept away.

But the flood came upon it in the night and swept it away.

فَما عانَقَت نورَ الكَواكِبِ في الدُجى

وَلا لَثَمَت فَجراً وَلا رَشَفَت طَلّا

She never embraced the stars’ light in the gloom,

It never embraced the light of the stars in the darkness,

Or kissed the dawn, or sipped the dew.

Nor did it kiss the dawn, nor sip the dew.

وَزالَت فَلَم يَستَشعِرِ النورَ وَالنَدى

عَلى فَقدِها غَمّاً كَأَن لَم تَكُن قَبلا

She disappeared, and neither light nor mist mourned her absence,

It vanished, and neither the light nor the dew felt

As if she had never been.

Any grief over its loss, as if it had never been.

وَلا تَكُ كَالصَدّاحِ إِذ خالَ أَنَّهُ

إِذا اِذدَخَرَ الأَلحانَ أَكسَبَها نُبلا

And be not like the nightingale, thinking his songs

And do not be like the songbird that imagined

Would earn him nobility if he hoarded their beauty.

That hoarding its melodies would grant them nobility.

فَضَنَّ بِها وَالشَمسُ تَنثُرُ تِبرَها

وَفَضَّتَها وَالأَرضُ ضاحِكَةٌ جَذلى

He was miserly while the sun scattered its bounty

So it withheld them while the sun scattered its gold,

And the earth smiled, blooming and fertile.

And its silver, while the earth laughed in joy.

فَلَمّا مَضى نورُ الرَبيعِ عَنِ الرُبى

وَدَبَّ إِلى أَزهارِها المَوتُ مُنسَلّا

When the light of spring left the meadows

But when the light of spring passed from the hills,

And death crept to its blooms, slow and hidden,

And death crept stealthily toward their blossoms,

تَحَفَّز كَي يَشدو فَلَم يَلقَ حَولَهُ

سِوى الوَرَقِ الهاوي كَأَحلامِهِ القَتلى

He tried to sing, but found only fallen leaves around him,

It braced itself to sing, but found nothing around it

Like his murdered dreams.

Save for falling leaves, like its own slain dreams.