ذاتُ شَوكٍ كَالحِرابِ أَو كَأَظفارِ العُقابِ

رَبَضَت في الغابِ كَاللِصِّ لِفَتك وَاِستِلابِ

With thorns like swords or talons of an eagle

Possessor of thorns like spears, or like the talons of an eagle,

It lurked in the woods like a thief, to steal and plunder

Crouched in the thicket like a thief, intent on slaughter and plunder,

تَقطَعُ الدَرَبَ عَلى الفَلاح وَالمَولى المَهابِ

صُنتُ عَنها حُرَّ وَجهي فَتَصَدَّت لِثِيابي

It blocked the path for the farmer and the revered master

Blocking the path of the peasant and the dreaded master alike.

I protected my face but it grabbed my clothes

I shielded my face from it, so it seized upon my garments;

كُلَّما أَفلَتُّ مِن نابٍ تَلَقَّتني بِنابِ

فَلَها نَهشُ الأَفاعي وَلَها لَسعُ الذُبابِ

Each time I escaped one fang it caught me with another

Whenever I escaped one fang, another rose to meet me.

It has the bite of snakes and the sting of flies

It possesses the bite of vipers and the stinging of flies,

وَأَذاها في سُكوني كَأَذاها في اِضطِرابي

وَهيَ كَالقَيدِ لِساقي وَلِجيدي كَالسَخابِ

And it bothered me while still as it did when I stirred

Harming me in my stillness just as it harms in my struggle,

It was like shackles on my legs and clouds over my mind

Like a shackle upon my leg, and a collar around my neck.

فَكَأَنّا في عِناقٍ لا نِضالٍ وَوِثابِ

قُلتُ يا ساكِنَةَ الغاب وَيا بِنتَ التُرابِ

As if we were in an embrace, not a struggle or skirmish

As if we were locked in an embrace, not in combat and assault.

I said, o dweller of the woods, o daughter of dust

I said: O dweller of the woods, O daughter of the dust,

لا تَلَجّي في اِجتِذابي أَو فَلَجّي في اِجتِذابي

إِنَّ عوداً فيهِ ماءٌ لَيسَ عوداً لِاِحتِطابِ

Don’t pull me in or drag me in

Do not persist in dragging me down—or persist if you must—

A wet stick cannot be firewood

For a bough still flowing with sap is not wood meant for the fire.

أَنا في فَجرِ حَياتي أَنا في شَرخِ شَبابي

الهَوى مِلءُ فُؤادي وَالصِبى مِلءُ إِهابي

I am in the dawn of my life, in the bloom of my youth

I am in the dawn of my life, in the prime of my youth;

Passion fills my heart and adolescence fills my dreams

Passion fills my heart, and youthful spirit fills my frame;

وَالمُنى تَنبُتُ في دَربي وَتَمشي رِكابي

أَنا لَم أَضجَر مِنَ العَيش وَلَم أَملُل صِحابي

And wishes grow on my path, walking with my steps

Hopes sprout along my path, and my caravan marches on.

I'm not yet tired of living or bored with my friends

I have not grown weary of life, nor tired of my companions;

لَم أَزَل أَلمَحُ طَيفَ المَجدِ حَتّى في السَرابِ

لَم أَزَل أَستَشعِرُ اللَذَّةَ حَتّى في العَذابِ

I still glimpse the specter of glory even in a mirage

I still glimpse the specter of glory, even within a mirage.

I still feel pleasure even in torment

I still sense pleasure, even in the midst of torment;

لَم أَزَل أَستَشرِفُ الحُسن وَلَو تَحتَ نِقابِ

ما بِنَفسي خَشيَةُ المَوت وَلا مِنهُ اِرتِهابي

I still anticipate beauty even beneath a veil

I still seek out beauty, even when hidden beneath a veil.

I don't fear death nor does it frighten me

My soul holds no fear of death, nor any terror of it;

أَنا لِلأَرض وَإِن طالَ عَنِ الأَرضِ اِغتِرابي

غَيرَ أَنّي لَم يَزَل ضَرعي لِرَي وَاِحتِلابِ

I belong to the earth even if distant or estranged from it

I belong to the earth, however long my exile from it may last,

Except my udder is still ripe for milking and squeezing

Yet my wellspring is still full, ready to quench and to give;

لَم أَهَب كُلَّ الَّذي عِندي وَلَم يَفرَغ وِطابي

أَنا نَهرٌ لَم أُتَمِّم بَعدُ في الأَرضِ اِنسِيابي

I haven't given all that I have nor emptied my wineskins

I have not bestowed all I possess, nor are my vessels empty.

I'm a river that hasn't finished flowing across the land

I am a river that has not yet completed its flow across the earth;

أَنا رَوضٌ لَم أُذِع كُلَّ عَبيري وَمَلابي

أَنا نَجمٌ لَم يُمَزِّق بَعدُ جِلبابَ الضَبابِ

I'm a meadow that hasn't diffused all its incense and garlands

I am a garden that has not yet diffused all its fragrance and perfume;

I'm a star whose cloak of mist hasn't fully ripped

I am a star that has not yet torn through the cloak of fog;

أَنا فَجرٌ لَم تُتَوِّج فِضَّتي كُلَّ الرَوابي

لي رِغابٌ لَم تَلِد بَعدُ بِالتَبابِ

I'm the dawn whose diadems don't crown all the hilltops

I am a dawn whose silver has not yet crowned all the hills.

I have desires not yet born of confusion

I hold desires that have not yet ended in vain,

وَبِنفَسِيَ أَلفُ مَعنى لَم يُضَمَّن في كِتابِ

فَإِذا اِستَنفَدتُ ما في دَنِّ نَفسي مِن شَرابِ

And in myself I find meanings unnamed in books

And within my soul are a thousand meanings not yet inscribed in a book.

So when the water in my soul runs dry

So when I have drained the wine from the cask of my soul,

وَإِذا أَنجُمُ آمالي تَوارَت في الحِجابِ

وَإِذا لَم يَبقَ في غَيمي ماءٌ لِاِنسِكابِ

And when my hopes disappear behind the veil

And when the stars of my hopes vanish behind the veil,

And when no rain remains in my clouds

And when no water remains in my clouds to pour forth,

وَإِذا ما صُرتُ كَالعَليقِ تِمثالَ اِكتِئابِ

لا يُرجينِيَ مُحتاج وَلا يَطمَعُ سابِ

And when I become like a withered scarecrow

And when I become like the bramble, a monument to gloom,

With no beggar hoping in me or opportunist expecting

When no needy soul seeks hope in me, and no captor covets me,

فَاِجذُبيني إِن يَكُن مِنِّيَ نَفعٌ لِلتُرابِ

فَاِجذُبيني إِن يَكُن مِنِّيَ نَفعٌ لِلتُرابِ

Then pull me in if I can benefit the soil

Then drag me down, if my remains can profit the dust;

Then pull me in if I can benefit the soil

Then drag me down, if my remains can profit the dust.