قالَ الغُراب وَقَد رَأى كَلَفَ الوَرى
وَهُيامَهُم بِالبُلبُلِ الصَدّاحِ
The raven saw the toil of the people,
The crow spoke, having seen mankind’s infatuation,
And their bustle with the chirping bulbul.
And their desperate love for the chanting nightingale:
لِمَ لا تَهيمُ بِيَ المَسامِعُ مِثلَهُ
ما الفَرقُ بَينَ جَناحِه وَجَناحي
Why do not the ears bustle for me like it?
"Why do ears not fall in love with me as they do with him?
What is the difference between its wing and my wing?
What difference is there between his wing and mine?
إِنّي أَشَدُّ قِوى وَأَمضى مِخلَباً
فَعَلى ما نامَ الناسُ عَن تَمداحي
I am stronger and sharper of claw,
I am possessed of mightier strength and sharper talons,
Yet people sleep unstirred by my praise.
So why does the world slumber, neglecting my praise?"
أَمُفَرِّقَ الأَحبابِ عَن أَحبابِهِم
وَمُكَدِّرَ اللَذات وَالأَفراحِ
Do I separate lovers from their beloved?
O you who scatters lovers from their beloveds,
And embitter joys and delights?
And muddies the purity of pleasures and joys:
كَم في السَوائِلِ مِن شَبيهٍ لِلطَلا
فَعَلى ما لَيسَ لَها مَقامَ الراحِ
How many things resemble marks,
How many fluids bear the resemblance of wine,
Yet have no lasting place or peace.
Yet hold not the high station of the vintage?
لَيسَ الحُظوظُ مِنَ الجُسوم وَشَكلِها
السِرُّ كُلُّ السِرِّ في الأَرواحِ
Beauty lies not in forms and features.
Good fortune comes not from bodies nor their forms;
The real secret is all in the spirit.
The secret—the entire secret—lies within the souls.
وَالصَوتُ مِن نِعَمِ السَماء وَلَم تَكُن
تَرضى السَما إِلّا عَنِ الصَلاحِ
The voice is a blessing from the heavens, but
A voice is among the blessings of Heaven, and Heaven
The heavens approve only what is good.
Is never pleased with anything but the righteous.
حَكَمَ القَضاءُ فَإِن نَقَمتَ عَلى القَضا
فَاِضرِب بِعُنقِكَ مُديَةَ الذَبّاحِ
Fate has judged, so if you blame fate,
Destiny has ruled, so if you resent the decree,
Take your complaint to the butcher's blade.
Then strike your neck against the slaughterer’s knife.
