يا مَيِّتاً فيهِ جَمالُ الحَياة

ما حازَ مِنكَ اللَحدُ إِلّا الرُفات

O you who died with beauty still alive,

O dead one who holds the beauty of life,

The grave claimed only your mortal remains.

The grave has claimed nothing of you but mortal remains.

أَنتَ الفَتى الباقي بِئاثارِهِ

ما أَنتَ بِالمَرءِ إِذا ماتَ مات

You are the youth who stays, by your effects,

You are the man who remains through his legacy;

You did not die when death itself did die.

You are not the kind of man who simply ceases when he dies.

وَكَيفَ يَمتَدُّ إِلَيكَ الرَدى

وَذاتُكَ الحَسناءُ في أَلفِ ذات

How can decay reach out its hand to you

How could destruction ever reach you,

When your fair soul is one of countless throng?

When your beautiful self lives on in a thousand others?

إِذا اِختَفى في الوَردِ لَونُ الضُحى

فَالذَنبُ ذَنبُ الأَعيُنِ الناظِرات

If dawn's hue disappears from within the rose

If the color of the morning light fades within the rose,

The fault lies with the vision, not the rose.

The fault lies only with the eyes that look upon it.

يُصَوِّحُ الزَهر وَيَبقى الشَذى

وَيَذهَبُ المَرء وَتَبقى الصِفات

The blossoms wither but the fragrance stays,

The flower withers, but the fragrance remains;

Man passes on but his good name remains.

The man departs, but his virtues endure.

يا نائِماً أَغفى عَنِ التُرَّهات

إِنّي وَجَدتُ المَوتَ في التُرَّهات

O you who sleep to life's delusions lost,

O sleeper who has closed his eyes to life's vanities,

I found that death was hidden in delusions.

I have found that true death lies in those very vanities.

أَإِن مَضى نَقولُ اِنقَضى

إِذَن فَمِن أَينَ تَجيءُ الحَياة

If the past is gone, do we say, "It is gone"?

When one passes, do we say he has ended?

From where, then, does life keep coming anew?

If so, from where does life arise?

أَلَيسَ دُنيا الصَحوِ دُنيا الكَرى

وَمِثلُ ظِلِّ العَيشِ ظُلُّ المَمات

Is not this waking world the world of dreams

Is not the waking world the same as the world of slumber?

While death's mere shadow darkens worldly joy?

And the shadow of death is but like the shadow of life.

تُقَسِّمُ الأَشياءَ أَفهامُنا

وَلَيسَتِ النَخلَةُ إِلّا النَواة

Our minds divide all things in categories -

Our limited understanding divides things apart,

Yet the palm tree was once but a seed.

Yet the palm tree is nothing but the seed grown tall.

وَفي الغَدِ الأَمس وَلَكِنَّنا

لِلجَهلِ قُلنا الدَهرُ ماض وَآت

Tomorrow is yesterday, and yet we say,

Yesterday resides within tomorrow, but we,

In ignorance, "The past is dead and gone."

Out of ignorance, say time is past and future.

بَعضُ الرَدى فيهِ نَجاةُ الفَتى

وَرُبَّما كانَ الرَدى في النَجاة

Part of death's secret implies survival,

In some forms of death lies a man's salvation,

While dying may mean life for the steadfast soul.

And perhaps destruction lies within what we call safety.

يا قُرَوِيّاً عَظُمَت نَفسُهُ

حَتّى تَرَضَّتها نُفوسُ العُتاة

O you, the village magnified your soul,

O Villager whose soul grew so great,

Until base souls of tyrants it outgrew.

That even the souls of the arrogant bowed before it.

وَحَسَدَتهُ الصَيدُ في كوخِهِ

وَحَسَدَت قَريَتَهُ العاصِمات

The prey in your hut envied your lot,

The mighty kings envied him in his humble hut,

While cities envied the village you knew.

And the great capitals envied his small village.

تِلكَ السَجايا لَم تزَل بَينَنا

ساطِعَةً كَالأَنجُمِ الزاهِرات

Those high traits shine still brightly amongst us,

Those noble traits remain here among us,

As the stars which glitter and glow in the sky.

Shining brightly like radiant stars.

وَعِلمُكَ الزاخِرُ باقٍ لَنا

ما بَقِيَت في الأَرضِ أُمُّ اللُغات

Your wisdom's bounty is lasting for us.

Your vast knowledge remains with us,

While the Mother Tongue lives, your words will not die.

As long as the Mother of Tongues remains on earth.

في أَنفُسِ الناس وَأَلبابُهُم

وَفي بُطونِ السَيرِ الخالِدات

Deep in men's souls, deep in time's record scrolls, Deep midst the pearls of poesy's necklace bright,

In the souls of people and within their minds,

Your life still glows.

And within the depths of immortal chronicles.

وَفي تَلاميذِكَ أَهلِ الحِجى

وَالأَدَبِ الجَمِّ الجَميلِ السِمات

With some, song flows as dew in the rose,

In your disciples, men of intellect,

Your spirit in them love songs reciting.

And of vast culture and beautiful character.

مِن شاعِرٍ كَالرَوضِ أَشعارُهُ

تَسمَعُ هَمسَ الحُبِّ فيهِ الفَتاة

Others - their words like those gleaned from the lute -

From a poet whose verses are like a lush garden,

Seem stolen from minstrels in hour of delight.

Where the young maiden hears the whispers of love.

وَسامِرٍ تَحسَبُ أَقوالَهُ

مَسروقَةً مِن مُقَلِ الغانِيات

Others - their styles with rays of light suffused,

And a storyteller whose words you would deem,

Like jewels exquisite, finely fused.

Stolen from the enchanting eyes of beauties.

وَكاتِبٍ تُشرِقُ أَلفاظُهُ

كَالدُرَرِ المُختارَةِ المُنتَقاة

Some followers' hearts, like the meadows in Spring,

And a writer whose words shine forth,

Your wisdom's impress fair flowerets bringing.

Like choice, hand-picked pearls.

وَصُحُبٍ أَخلاقُهُم كَالمُنى

يَروُّنَ عَنكَ الحِكَمَ الغالِيات

Not even death could strike you down, O Oak!

And companions whose morals are like fondest wishes,

Towering, territories immense you cloaked.

Who narrate your precious wisdoms.

لَم يَختَرِمكِ المَوتُ يا دَوحَةً

باسِقَةً قَد خَلَّفَت باسِقات

Authority of Arabic's classical tongue,

Death has not severed you, O towering tree,

Ocean deep, Trusted Guide your whole life long.

A lofty trunk that has left behind lofty branches.

يا حِجَّةَ الفُصحى وَدُهقانَها

وَبَحرِها الطامي وَشَيخَ الثُقات

Now the emphatic D sounds its dirge for you

O Authority of the Arabic tongue and its master,

Present devotees and ages vanished do.

Its surging sea and the elder of the trustworthy.

الضادُ مِن بَعدِكَ في مَأتَمٍ

حاضِرُها وَالأَعصُرُ الغابِرات

In Lebanon is only grief displayed;

The Arabic language is in mourning after you,

No more around Euphrates accolades.

Both in its present day and its past ages.

فَلَيسَ في لُبنانَ غَيرُ الأَسى

وَلَيسَ غَيرُ الحُزنِ حَولَ الفُرات

If one Mount grieves, grief will all summits shake - On every side sadness and sorrow awake.

In Lebanon there is nothing but sorrow,

Seventy years for its sake your quill wore down

And nothing but grief along the Euphrates.

فَمِن يُعَزّي جَبَلاً واحِداً

عَزّى الرَواسي في جَميعِ الجِهات

In the world of books and scrolls of high renown.

For whoever consoles a single mountain,

People talk on around, but you're in prayer,

Consoles the peaks in every corner of the earth.

سَلَخنَها سَبعينَ مِن أَجلِها

في عالَمِ الطِرس وَدُنيا الدُواة

Like a worshipper deep in his devotions there.

You spent seventy years in its service,

You sang the emphatic D in all its modes -

In the realm of parchment and the world of the inkwell.

الناسُ مِن حَولِكَ في قَيلِهِم

وَأَنتَ كَالعابِدِ وَقتَ الصَلاة

To water-carriers and drunkards on the roads.

While people around you were lost in idle chatter,

To it you gave back the prime of youth anew,

You were like a devotee at the hour of prayer.

غَنَّيتَ بِالضاد وَأَسرارِها

عَنِ الغَواني وَالطَلا وَالسُقاة

For love works magic in all it seeks to do.

You sang of Arabic and its mysteries,

So Arabic's being was thrilled to its roots

Of beautiful maidens, wine, and cupbearers.

أَنتَ الَّذي رَدَّ إِلَيها الصِبا

إِنَّ الهَوى يَجتَرِحُ المُعجِزات

And water of beauty gushed through its words.

You are the one who restored its youth;

Its horizons rang with your name everywhere,

Truly, passion can work miracles.

فَاِختَلَجَت أَوضاعُها بِالمُنى

وَجالَ ماءُ الحُسنِ في المُفرَدات

In meadow and valley and mountain tops bare.

Its forms trembled with new hope,

The camel-drivers murmured it o'er and o'er,

And the essence of beauty flowed through its words.

وَلَهِجَت بِاِسمِكَ آفاقُها

وَرَدَّدَتهُ في البَوَدي الحُداة

While their camels picked their way slow and sure.

Its horizons constantly recited your name,

O youth who seek glory, true glory's there

And camel drivers echoed it across the deserts.

وَحَنَّتِ النوقُ إِلى سَمعِهِ

وَطَرِبَت مِن ذِكرِهِ الصافِنات

In the souls who lived great lives free of all care.

Even the camels longed to hear it,

O you who seek riches, better seek the best -

And noble steeds danced with joy at its mention.

فَيا شَباباً يَطلُبونَ العُلى

إِنَّ العُلى لِلأَنفُسِ الماضِيات

The gifts which the generous know how to invest.

O youth who seek heights of glory,

This needy one gave though he suffered privation.

Glory belongs to determined souls.

وَيا فَقيراً يَتَمَنّى الغِنى

هَلّا تَمَنَّيتَ غِنى المَكرُمات

The best gifts are those of the soul and spirit.

And O poor man wishing for riches,

No seeker of bounty his threshold e'er crossed,

Why not wish for the wealth of noble deeds?

وَيا سَراةً يَبذُلونَ اللُهى

هَذا فَقيرٌ كانَ يُعطي السُراة

He thanked the good Lord for the blessings he lost.

And O chiefs who dispense gifts,

Though the thankless might spurn him and leave him alone,

Here is a poor man who used to give to the chiefs.

وَِن روحِهِ لا فَيضِ أَموالِهِ

إِنَّ هِباتِ الروحِ أَسمى الهِبات

His gifts travelled on with the men generous known.

From his spirit, not from overflowing coffers;

So he was like a planet around which do steer,

For gifts of the spirit are the most sublime.

لا يَقتَضي قاصِدُهُ حَمدَهُ

وَيَشكُرُ العافي الَّذي قالَ هَت

In its orbit, the travellers both far and near.

One who sought him needed not to praise him,

He was like the rain when it first wets the plain,

And he would thank the seeker who asked, "Give."

وَإِن مَضى العافونَ عَن بابِهِ

سارَت عَطاياهُ وَراءَ العُفاة

Bringing nurture to gravel, to flowers and grain.

And when the seekers departed from his door,

Like a spring people used, both the noble and base -

His gifts followed behind them.

فَكانَ كَالكَوكَبِ يَمشي عَلى

ضِيائِهِ الرَكب وَذِئبُ الفَلاة

Puritan calm and corrupted in case.

He was like a star, by whose light

He was like the sky, limitless, rapt, serene -

Both the caravan and the desert wolf travel.

وَكانَ كَالغَيثِ إِذا ما هَمى

أَصابَ في الأَرضِ الحَصى وَالنَبات

Where the pure and profane, all unruffled, are seen.

He was like the rain which, when it falls,

O planter of gardens, sleep now carefree,

Touches both the pebbles and the plants.

وَكانَ كَاليَنبوعِ يَرتادُهُ

ذو الشِيَمِ الحُسنى وَذو السَيِّئات

For in death ends at last all complaining.

He was like a spring, visited alike

No water is gone which but comes back as stream,

By the virtuous and the sinner.

وَكَالفَضاءِ الرَحبِ في حِلمِهِ

يَضطَرِبُ البازي بِه وَالقُطاة

Makes the fields laugh with life, and the gardens green.

And like the vast sky in his forbearance,

Where both the hawk and the sandgrouse fly.

يا صاحِبَ البُستانِ نَم آمِناً

فَإِنَّ في المَوتِ زَوالَ الشُكاة

O Master of the Orchard, sleep in peace,

For in death all suffering ceases.

ما غابَ ماءٌ غابَ تَحتَ الثَرى

فَأَطلَعَ النَبت وَأَحيا المَوات

Water that sinks into the earth is not lost;

It brings forth new growth and revives the barren land.