راحوا بأرواحٍ ظماء

يتهافتون على الفناء

They departed with spirits athirst,

rushing headlong toward extinction.

جفَّت حلوقٌ بعدهم

لم تلق دونهمُ رواء

Throats dried after they were gone;

without them, none found a quenching drink.

واهاً لكأسٍ كالخُلو

دِ ومنهلٍ فيه الشفاء

Ah, for a cup of immortality,

and a spring wherein lies healing.

كنَّا إذا ضجَّ الفؤا

دُ وضاق بالدنيا وناء

Whenever the heart cried out,

oppressed by the world and heavy with weariness,

نَمضي إليه فنستَقي

ونَعُبُّ منه كما نشاء

we would go there and drink,

and quaff from it as freely as we wished.

فاليومَ إذ شطَّ المزا

رُ بكم وقد عزَّ اللقاء

But today, now that visiting you

lies far away and meeting has become impossible,

وبخلتُمُ بُخلَ الضَّني

نِ فحسبُنا قَطراتُ ماء

and you have withheld with a miser’s parsimony,

a few drops of water must suffice us.

أين الأمين على الإما

رة والحريصُ على اللواء

Where is the one entrusted with command,

the zealous guardian of the banner?

قبسٌ أضاء العالَمي

ن كما تُضيءُ لهم ذكاء

A flame that illuminated all creation,

as Dhukāʾ—the sun—shines upon it.

ثم اختفى خلف الغيو

ب مخلِّفاً ظُلم المساء

Then it vanished behind the clouds,

leaving the darkness of evening behind.

فكأنما هبة السّما

ءِ قد استردَّتها السَّماء

It was as though Heaven’s own gift

had been reclaimed by Heaven.

جزع الرياض لطائرٍ

غنَّى فأبدعَ في الغناء

The gardens grieved for a bird

that sang and made song wondrous.

حتى إذا خلب العقو

لَ وقيل سِحرٌ لا مراء

Until, once it had bewitched the minds,

and all said, “Magic, beyond dispute,”

ولَّى عن الأيك الفخو

ر به إلى عرضِ الفضاء

it turned from the grove that gloried

in it, out into the vastness of the sky.

فكأنَّه والسُّحّب تط

ويه فيمعن في الخفاء

And while the clouds enfolded it,

it receded ever deeper into hiding—

دنيا من الأمل الجمي

لِ قد استبدَّ بها العَفاء

a world of beautiful hope

now overrun by desolation.

ووراءها شفقٌ من الذ

ذكرى كجرحٍ ذي دِماء

Beyond it glowed the twilight of memory,

like a wound flowing with blood.

وتُسائل الدُّنيا التي

ناطت به كلَّ الرَّجاء

And the world, which had fastened

all its hopes upon him, asks:

عن أي سرٍ طار عن

هَذي الرُّبى وعلام جاء

what secret has flown away from

these hills, and why did it come?

قُم يا فقيدَ الشعرِ وان

ظُر أيّ حفلٍ للرثاء

Rise, O poetry’s lost one, and behold

what a gathering has assembled to mourn.

أمَمٌ يُصبِّرُ بعضُها

بعضاً وهيهات العزاء

Nations console one

another—yet consolation is far away.

هذي الجموع الباكيا

تُ الساخطاتُ على القضاء

These weeping crowds,

indignant at Fate’s decree—

قاسمتها أشجانها

ووفيت ما شاءَ الوفاء

you shared their sorrows,

and fulfilled all that fidelity required.

أوَ لَم تجدكَ لسانها الش

شاكي إذا احتدم البلاء

Did they not find in you their voice

of complaint whenever affliction raged?

أوَ لَم تكن غِرّيدَها

ونديمها عند الصفاء

Were you not their sweet singer,

and their boon companion in serenity?

لم لا توفيك الجَمي

ل وتَستَقلّ لك الفداء

Why should they not repay your goodness,

deeming every sacrifice for you too small?

ومُنَعَّمٍ بين القصو

رِ قد استَتم له الثراء

And one pampered amid palaces,

whose wealth had reached completion—

ما بالهُ حملَ الهمو

مَ وجشَّم القلبَ العناء

why did he shoulder cares

and burden his heart with suffering,

وينوءُ بالعبءِ الذي

هو عن أذاه في غَناء

staggering beneath a load

from whose harm he had no need?

ويحَ الذكاءِ وما يُكل

لِفه من الثَّمنِ الذَّكاء

Woe to genius—and the price

genius makes him pay!

أضنى قواه ولم يدع

من جسمه إلا ذماء

It exhausted his strength and left

only a last flicker of life in his body.

والمجد يوغل في حنا

يا روحه والمجدُ داء

Glory burrowed into the folds

of his spirit—and glory is a disease.

صرحٌ من الأدبِ الصمي

مِ له على الدنيا البقاء

An edifice of literature, true at its core,

shall endure in the world.

الدَّهر يحمي ركنَه

والفنُّ في روح البناء

Time guards its cornerstone,

and art is the spirit of its structure.

شوقي على رغم التفر

ردِ والتفوقِ والعلاء

Shawqi—despite your singularity,

your supremacy and loftiness—

ذاك الرقادُ بساحةٍ

كل الرجال بها سواء

that sleep is in a realm

where all men are equal.

وبرغم ذهن كالفرا

شة حول مصباح أضاء

And despite a mind like a moth

circling a lamp that shone,

مثواك لا تشكو السكو

نَ ولا تمل من الثواء

in your resting place you do not lament the silence,

nor ever tire of abiding.