أَلا لَيتَ قَلباً بَينَ جَنبَيَّ دامِيا
أَصابَ سُلُوّاً أَو أَصابَ الأَمانِيا
Oh, how I wish this bleeding heart within my ribs
Had found some solace or attained its desires.
أَجَنَّ الأَسى حَتّى إِذا ضاقَ بِالأَسى
تَدَفَّقَ مِن عَينَيَّ أَحمَرَ قانِيا
It concealed its grief, but when overwhelmed by sorrow,
It gushed forth from my eyes as deep red blood.
تَهيجُ بِيَ الذِكرى البُروقُ ضَواحِكاً
وَتُغري بِيَ الوَجدُ الطُيورُ شَوادِيا
The laughing lightning flashes stir memories within me,
And the singing birds provoke my deep longing.
فَأَبكي لِما بي مِن جَوىً وَصَبابَةٍ
وَأَبكي إِذا أَبصَرتُ في الأَرضِ باكِيا
I weep for the burning passion and love I harbor,
And I weep whenever I see another crying upon the earth.
فَلا تَحسِباني أَذرِفُ الدَمعَ عادَةً
وَلا تَحسِباني أُنشِدُ الشِعرَ لاهِيا
Do not deem that I shed tears merely out of habit,
Nor think that I compose poetry for idle amusement.
وَلَكِنَّها نَفسي إِذا جاشَ جَأشُها
وَفاضَ عَلَيها الهَمُّ فاضَت قَوافِيا
Rather, it is my soul: when its emotions surge
And anxiety overwhelms it, it overflows in rhyme.
يَشُقُّ عَلى الإِنسانِ خَدعُ فُؤادِهِ
وَإِن خادَعَ الدُنيا وَداجى المَداجِيا
It is painfully hard for a man to deceive his own heart,
Even if he deceives the world and cajoles the hypocrites.
طَلَبتُ عَلى البَلوى مَعيناً فَفاتَني
يُؤاسيكَ مَن يَحتاجُ فيكَ مُؤاسِيا
I sought a helper against calamity but found none;
Can one comfort you who himself needs comfort because of you?
وَمَن لَم تُضَرِّسهُ الخُطوبُ بِنابِها
يَظُنُّ شِكاياتِّ النُفوسِ تَشاكِيا
He whom misfortunes have not bitten with their fangs
Thinks the true anguish of souls is merely feigned complaint.
رُميتُ مِنَ الدُنيا بِما لَو قَليلُهُ
رَمَيتُ بِهِ الأَيّامَ صارَت لَيالِيا
The world has cast upon me burdens so heavy that
Were I to cast but a fraction upon the days, they would turn to nights.
فَلا يَشتَكِ غَيري البُؤسَ فَإِنَّني
ضَمِنتُ الرَزايا وَاِحتَكَرتُ العَوادِيا
Let no one else complain of misery, for truly I
Have engaged all disasters and monopolized all misfortunes.
تَمُرُّ اللَيالي لَيلَةً إِثرَ لَيلَةٍ
وَأَحزانُ قَلبي باقِياتٍ كَما هِيا
The nights pass by, one following the other,
Yet the sorrows of my heart remain exactly as they are.
وَلَو أَنَّ ما بِيَ الخَمرُ أَو بارَدُ اللَمى
سَلَوتُ وَلَكِن أُمَّتي وَبِلادِيا
Were my ailment caused by wine or the coolness of dark lips,
I might have found solace—but my pain is for my nation and my land.
إِذا خَطَرَت مِن جانِبِ الشَرقِ نَفحَةٌ
طَرِبتُ فَأَلقى مَنكِبايَ رِدائِيا
If a breeze wafts from the direction of the East,
I am seized with emotion and my shoulders cast off my cloak.
أَحِنُّ إِلى تِلكَ المَغاني وَأَهلِها
وَأَشتاقُ مَن يَشتاقُ تِلكَ المَغانِيا
I yearn for those dwellings and the people who live there,
And I long for anyone who shares this longing for those homes.
وَما سَرَّني أَنَّ المَلاهِيَ كَثيرَةٌ
وَفي الشَرقِ قَومٌ يَجهَلونَ المَلاهِيا
It brings me no joy that pleasures here are plentiful,
While in the East are a people who know nothing of amusement.
إِذا مَثَّلوا وَالنَومُ يَأخُذُ مُقلَتي
بِأَهدابِها أَمسَيتُ وَسنانَ صاحِيا
When their image rises as sleep tries to claim my eyes,
Upon my very lashes, I remain in a daze, suspended between sleep and waking.
وَكَيفَ اِغتِباطُ المَرءِ لا أَهلَ حَولَهُ
وَلا هُوَ مَن يَستَعذِبُ الصَفوَ نائِيا
How can a man rejoice with no family around him,
When he cannot find sweetness in life's pleasures while in exile?
تَبَدَّلَتِ الدُنيا مِنَ السِلمِ بِالوَغى
وَصارَ بَنوها العاقِلونَ ضَوارِيا
The world has exchanged peace for the ravages of war,
And its rational sons have turned into predatory beasts.
فَما تُنبِتُ الغَبراءُ غَيرَ مَصائِبٍ
وَما تُمطِرُ الأَفلاكُ إِلّا دَواهِيا
The dusty earth sprouts nothing but calamities,
And the heavens rain down nothing but disasters.
وَناكَرَ حَتّى اللَيلُ زُهرَ نُجومِهِ
وَماءُ الخِضَمِّ المُنشَآتِ الجَوارِيا
Even the night has disavowed its radiant stars,
And the ocean waters have rejected the ships sailing upon them.
وَباتَ سَبيلٌ كانَ يَسري بِهِ الفَتى
بِلا حارِسٍ يَمشي بِهِ الجَيشُ خاشِيا
And a path once traveled safely by a lone youth without guard
Is now tread by armies, filled with fear.
تَقَطَّعَتِ الأَسبابُ بَيني وَبَينَهُم
فَلَيسَ لَهُم نَحوي وُصولٌ وَلا لِيا
All ties between me and them have been severed;
They have no way to reach me, nor I to reach them.
وَكانَ لَنا في الكُتبِ عَونٌ عَلى الأَسى
وَفي البَرقِ ما يُدني المَدى المُتَرامِيا
We once found help against sorrow in letters,
And in the telegraph, something to bridge the vast distances.
فَلَم تَأمَنِ الأَسرارُ في السِلكِ سارِقاً
وَلَم تَأمَنِ الأَخبارُ في الطِرسِ ماحِيا
But now, secrets on the wire are not safe from interception,
And news upon the page is not safe from censorship.
إِذا قيلَ هَذا مُخبِرٌ مِلتُ نَحوَهُ
بِسَمعي وَلَو كانَ المُحَدِّثُ واشِيا
If told, "Here is a messenger," I lean toward him with all my hearing,
Even if the speaker were a known slanderer.
وَتَعلَمُ نَفسي أَنَّهُ غَيرُ عالِمٍ
وَلَكِنَّني أَستَدفِعُ اليَأسَ راجِيا
My soul knows well he possesses no true knowledge,
Yet, hoping still, I try to fend off my despair.
سَرى الشَكُّ حَتّى ما نُصَدِّقُ راوِياً
وَطالَ فَبِتنا ما نُكَذِّبُ راوِيا
Doubt has spread until we believe no narrator,
Yet the ordeal has lasted so long we no longer deny any narrator.
أُقَضّي نَهارِيَ طائِرَ النَفسِ حائِراً
وَأَقطَعُ لَيلي كاسِفَ البالِ مَناهِيا
I spend my day with a fluttering soul, bewildered,
And I traverse my night with a gloomy mind, consumed by trouble.
فَما هُم بِأَمواتٍ فَنَبكي عَلَيهُمُ
وَلا هُم بِأَحياءِ فَنَرجو التَلاقِيا
They are not dead, that we might weep for them,
Nor are they truly alive, that we might hope to meet again.
كَأَنّي بِهِم قَد أُخرِجوا مِن بُيوتِهِم
حُفاةً عُراةً جائِعينَ صَوادِيا
I can almost see them, driven from their homes:
Barefoot, naked, starving, and parched with thirst.
