وبَاتَتand she spent the night كَمَاas بَاتَتspent the night مَهَاهُa wild cow حَميلَةًḤamīlah
وبَاتَت كَمَا بَاتَت مَهَاهُ حَميلَةً
لَهَاshe had جُؤذَرٌa wild cow's calf عِنَدًَbeside الصَّرَاةِal-Ṣarāt عَقِيرُslain
لَهَا جُؤذَرٌ عِنَدًَ الصَّرَاةِ عَقِيرُ
And she spent the night as did the wild cow of Ḥamīlah,
She spent the night as she spent it, pregnant,
Whose calf lay slain beside al-Ṣarāt.
Having a wound next to her teat, festering,
وقَدand already أُكِلَتwere devoured أَشلاَؤُهُits limbs فَكَأَنَّهَاso they seemed
وقَد أُكِلَت أَشلاَؤُهُ فَكَأَنَّهَا
مُقَسَّمَةٌdivided into shares عِندَat القِدَاحِthe lot-drawing arrows جَزُورُa slaughtered camel
مُقَسَّمَةٌ عِندَ القِدَاحِ جَزُورُ
Its limbs had been devoured, as though they were
And her ribs were eaten away as if
A slaughtered camel apportioned by lot-arrows.
She were divided at the cooking pots, slaughtered.
كَمَاas بَغَمَتshe lowed مِنfrom شَجوِهَاher grief أُمُّthe mother of وَاحِدٍan only calf
كَمَا بَغَمَت مِن شَجوِهَا أُمُّ وَاحِدٍ
أُتِيحَwas destined لَهَاfor her مِثلَlike الزُّجَاجِglass طَرِيرُkeen-edged
أُتِيحَ لَهَا مِثلَ الزُّجَاجِ طَرِيرُ
As the mother of an only calf lowed in her grief,
She moaned from her yearning like the mother of an only child,
A keen blade, like glass, had been destined for her,
To whom the sound of glass was allowed, tinkling.
لَدُنfrom غُدوَةُearly morning حَتَّىuntil صَغَتdeclined شَمسُthe sun of يَومِهَاher day
لَدُن غُدوَةُ حَتَّى صَغَت شَمسُ يَومِهَا
وَفِيand in أبهَرَيهَاher two great arteries رَنَّةٌa plaintive cry وَزَفِيرُand a deep sigh
وَفِي أبهَرَيهَا رَنَّةٌ وَزَفِيرُ
From early morning until her day's sun declined,
From early morning till the sun of her day had set
And in her two great arteries, a plaintive cry and a sigh.
With bleating and whistling in both temples.
تَسُوفُshe sniffs ثَرَاهُits earth عَنbeside مَشَقِّthe rent in إِهَابِهِits hide
تَسُوفُ ثَرَاهُ عَن مَشَقِّ إِهَابِهِ
كَأَنَّas though أَسَابِيَّthe rivulets of الدِّمَاءِblood عَتيرُa sacrificial victim
كَأَنَّ أَسَابِيَّ الدِّمَاءِ عَتيرُ
She sniffs its earth beside the rent in its hide,
She pushes away his robe from the toil of his neck,
As though the rivulets of blood came from a sacrificial victim.
As if the sinews of blood were perfumed.
Sol 6.1