أَيَتِم أُنْسٌ أمْ يَطِيبُ تَرَنمٌ
إلاَّ إذَا كَانَ المُرَجِّعُ سَامِي
Does companionship delight, or does melody soothe,
Except when the composer is sublime?
تَتَدَفَّقُ الأوْتَارُ تَحْتَ بَنَانِهِ
كَتَدَفُّقِ الأَنْهَارِ بِالأَنْغَامِ
The strings flow beneath his fingers,
Like the flow of rivers with melodies,
بَيْنَ انْسِجَامٍ وَاخْتِلاَطٍ مُونِقٍ
وَتَوَافُقٍ وَتَبَايُنٍ بِنِظَامِ
Between harmony, congruous intermixing,
Coordination, and contrast with order.
يَجْرِي عَلَى أَسْلاَكِهَا إيقاعُهُ
مُتَحَدِّراً مِنْ مَصْدَرِ الإلْهَامِ
Its rhythm flows on its threads,
Cascading from the source of inspiration.
نَبَرَاتُهُ لُغُةٌ تُنَاطُ حُرُوفُهَا
بِالسَّمْعِ يَحْمِلُهَا إلَى الأَفْهَامِ
Its tones are a language whose letters
Are bound to the ear carrying them to minds.
شَتَّانَ فِي كَشْفِ السَّرَائِرِ بَيْنَها
طَرَباً وَبَيْنَ مَقَاطِرِ الأقْلاَمِ
Far apart in revealing secrets are they -
Agitation and the rain of pens.
يَشْجِيكَ مِنْهَا مَا يُعِيدُ رَنينَهَا
مِنْ شَدْوِ قُمْرِيٍّ وَسَجْعِ حَمَامِ
Some of it excites you with its echo
Of the warbling of a dove and the coo of a pigeon.
وَتَحِسُّ تَنْسِيمَ الصَّبَا فِي رَوْضَةٍ
وَتَرَى فُطُورَ الْوَرْدِ فِي الأكْمَامِ
And you feel the breeze's blow in a meadow
And see the roses blooming in buds.
يَا مُبْدِعاً فِي فنه وَمُحَلياً
يَقَظَاتِنَا بِرَوَائِعِ الأحْلاَمِ
O creator in his art and inspirer
Awakening our vigilance with the marvels of dreams!
فِي الشَّرْقِ أَوْ فِي الغَرْبِ لاَ عَجَبٌ إذَا
لُقِّيْتَ مَا تَلْقَى مِنَ الإكْرَامِ
In East or West, no wonder if
You receive what you receive of honors.
حَقُّ النُّبُوغِ وَإنَّهُ لَشَرِيعَةٌ
تُسْتَنَّ فِي مَتَبَايِنِ الأَقْوامِ
The right of genius, and it is indeed a law
Followed for the diverse peoples.
نِعْمَ الثَّوَابِ عَلَى التَّمَامِ وَشَدَّ مَا
يَتَجَشَّمُ المِجْوادُ دُونَ تَمَامِ
How excellent the reward for perfection, and how difficult
What the generous one endures besides perfection!
مَا العَبْقَرِيَّةُ سَهْلَةٌ لِلْمُجْتَنِي
هِيَ مِنْ ثِمَارِ السُّهْدِ وَالآلاَمِ
Genius is no easy thing for the picker,
It is of the fruits of strife and pains.
فَنٌّ قَصَرْنَا هَمَّنَا فِيهِ عَلَى
عَتَبٍ وَأَعْتَابٍ وَبَثِّ غَرَامِ
An art whose ambition in it we fell short of
Steps, courts, and pouring out passions,
وَعَلَى نَجِيبٍ خَافَتٍ لَمْ يَعْدُ مَا
يَشْكُوهُ ذُو دَنَفٍ مِنَ الأسْقَامِ
And of gentle, musical, no longer complaining
Whatever the lovelorn complains of ailments.
حَجَبَ السُّرُورَ نُطَالِعُ شَمْسُهُ
أرْوَاحَنَا إلاَّ وَرَاءَ غَمَامِ
The bliss has veiled its sun from
Our spirits except behind clouds.
وَتَكَادُ بَارِقَةُ المُنَى لاَ تَنْجلي
لِعُيُونِنَا إلاَّ وَهُنَّ هَوَامِي
And the lightning flash of death almost does not shine forth
To our eyes except when they are confused.
أَلشَّرْقُ وَهْوَ مَجَالُ أرْبَابِ النُّهَى
وَمَصَالُ أهْلِ الْكَرِّ وَالإِقْدَامِ
The Orient, and it is the place of the people of guidance
And the haven of the valiant and resolute!
رَانَ الكَرَى دَهْراً عَلَى أَجْفَانِهِ
فَالْعَيْشُ مِمَّا رَقَّ شِبْهُ مَنَامِ
Time let flow its tears upon its eyelids,
So life is of what has melted away like a dream.
أَخْلِقْ بِمُوسِيقَاهُ بَعْدَ سَرَارِهَا
أَلاَّ تُبَارَى فِي عُلُوِّ مَقَامِ
Recreate through its music, after its secret,
Not to vie in the loftiness of position!
هَلْ بُحَّ صَوَتُ فَخَارِنَا وَكَلامُهُ
فِي كُلِّ قَوْمٍ فَوْقَ كُلِّ كَلاَمِ
Has the voice of our pots and our talk
In every people risen over all speech?
أَوْ مَا لَنَا فِي تَالِدٍ أَوْ طَارِفٍ
مَجْدٍ لَهُ رَجْعٌ عَلَى الأَيَّامِ
Or have we in talents or graces
Glory to which time will return?
أَوْ مَا لِهَذَا الغِيلِ زَأْرٌ مُنْذِرٌ
لِلطَّارِقِينَ بِيَقْظَةِ الضِّرْغَامِ
Or has this torrent no threatening roar
To the intruders, with the vigilance of eagles?
زِيدُوا وَسَائِلَكُمْ لِيَرْقَى فَنُّكُمْ
وَيَعِزَّ بِالغَرَضِ الْبِعِيدِ السَّامِي
Increase your means so your art may rise
And soar to the distant, lofty goal!
أَمَّا اللُّبَابُ فَلاَ مَسَاسَ وَلَيْسَ مَا
نَبْغِي سِوَى التَّنْويعِ وَالإحْكَامِ
As for talents, do not interfere, and there is nothing
We desire but diversity and solidity.
