قُصارutmost aim كُلِّevery فَتىًman مُستَكمِلُfully possessing الخَطَرhigh standing
قُصار كُلِّ فَتىً مُستَكمِلُ الخَطَر
أَنto يَنحنيbow لِقَضاءِto the decree of اللَهِGod وَالقَدَرand destiny
أَن يَنحني لِقَضاءِ اللَهِ وَالقَدَر
The utmost aim of every man of consummate worth
The height of every accomplished man is to bow to the decree of Allah and fate,
Is to bow to God's decree and destiny,
And to meet the turns of time however they flow,
وَأَنand to يُقابِلَmeet صَرفَthe vicissitudes of الدَهرِtime كَيفَhowever جَرىit unfolds
وَأَن يُقابِلَ صَرفَ الدَهرِ كَيفَ جَرى
بِالخَلقِupon humankind فيin عَبَراتِthe tears of العَينِthe eye وَالعِبَرand lessons
بِالخَلقِ في عَبَراتِ العَينِ وَالعِبَر
And to meet the vicissitudes of time, however they unfold
With composure in the tears of the eyes and morals.
Upon humankind, with the eye's tears and lessons learned,
And to see others as himself except in form,
وَأَنand to يَرىsee غَيرَهُsomeone other than himself مَعَalongside عَينِهِhis very self شَرَعاequal
وَأَن يَرى غَيرَهُ مَعَ عَينِهِ شَرَعا
فَلَيسَfor there is no بَينَهُماbetween the two of them فَرقٌdifference سِوىexcept الصُوَرoutward forms
فَلَيسَ بَينَهُما فَرقٌ سِوى الصُوَر
And to see another as equal to his very self,
So I see no mourner for a soul alone,
For no difference divides them except their outward forms.
Except he mourns, if we understand, for all mankind.
فَماfor not أَرىI see ناعِياًa death-announcer حَياa living person بِمُفرَدِهِon his own
فَما أَرى ناعِياً حَيا بِمُفرَدِهِ
إِلّاexcept نَعىhe announced the death of لَوif عَقِلناwe understood سائِرَall the rest of البَشَرhumankind
إِلّا نَعى لَو عَقِلنا سائِرَ البَشَر
For I see no one announcing one person's death alone
Life is but a procession escorting each of our dead,
Without announcing, if we understood, the death of all humankind.
And for the first of us it is the span of this life.
لَيسَis not الحَياةُlife سِوىanything but تَشييعِthe funeral escorting of آخِرِناthe last of us
لَيسَ الحَياةُ سِوى تَشييعِ آخِرِنا
لِأَوَّلٍfor the first فَهيَso it is هَذِهِthis فُسحَةَthe span of العُمُرlife
لِأَوَّلٍ فَهيَ هَذِهِ فُسحَةَ العُمُر
Life is nothing but the last of us escorting
And for death to be absent at its watering places,
The first to burial; such is the span of life.
Though often a delay is followed by a firm taking.
وَأَنand that تُغِبَّvisits intermittently المَناياdeath فيat مَوارِدِهاits watering places
وَأَن تُغِبَّ المَنايا في مَوارِدِها
فَرُبَّfor many a تَركٍreprieve يَليهِfollows it أَخذٌseizure مُقتَدِرpowerful
فَرُبَّ تَركٍ يَليهِ أَخذٌ مُقتَدِر
And death visits its watering places only at intervals;
He who grants it a day in its battles,
For many a reprieve is followed by a mighty seizure.
Has referred himself to its other days.
مَنwhoever سامَحتَهُit spared him بِيَومٍfor a day فيin مَصارِعِهاits killing grounds
مَن سامَحتَهُ بِيَومٍ في مَصارِعِها
فَقَدso indeed أُحيلَhe was referred عَلىto أَيّامِهاits days الأُخَرother
فَقَد أُحيلَ عَلى أَيّامِها الأُخَر
Whomever it spares for a day amid its killing grounds
Time has not ceased to be deadly in its arenas,
Has been deferred to its other days.
Be they days white or nights dark.
لَمnot يَبرَحِhas ceased الدَهرَtime فَتاكَdeadly المَضارِبُsword edges عَنthrough
لَم يَبرَحِ الدَهرَ فَتاكَ المَضارِبُ عَن
أَيّامِهِits days البيضُwhite أَوor لَيلاتِهِits nights السُمُرdusky
أَيّامِهِ البيضُ أَو لَيلاتِهِ السُمُر
Time has ever struck with deadly blades, through
It denied doubt of death and admonished and recompensed,
Its white days or its dusky nights.
Guiding one who was deluded by the world.
كَفرsuffices (likely reading) بِرَيبِwith the vicissitudes of المَناياdeath وَأَعظاas an admonisher (likely reading) وَجَزاand suffices
كَفر بِرَيبِ المَنايا وَأَعظا وَجَزا
رُشداًguidance لِمَنfor whoever كانَwas مِنfrom دُنياworldly life عَلىat غُرَرhazard
رُشداً لِمَن كانَ مِن دُنيا عَلى غُرَر
Death's vicissitudes are warning enough, and sufficient
It makes people differ in their desires when alive,
Guidance for anyone at hazard in this world.
And death unites all that is scattered.
تُخالِفُdiffered الناسَpeople فيin الأَهواءِdesires حينَwhen حَيّواthey lived
تُخالِفُ الناسَ في الأَهواءِ حينَ حَيّوا
وَجَمَّعَand gathered المَوتُdeath مِنهُfrom it كُلَّevery مُنتَثَرscattered thing
وَجَمَّعَ المَوتُ مِنهُ كُلَّ مُنتَثَر
People differed in their desires while alive,
And it may drive one into the cunning of his enemy,
And death brought together all that was scattered among them.
And had he known he would have been purely untroubled.
وَقَدand sometimes يَلُجُّgoads to obstinacy بِبَعضٍupon someone كَيدَthe malice of شانِئِهِhis enemy
وَقَد يَلُجُّ بِبَعضٍ كَيدَ شانِئِهِ
وَلَوand if دَرىhe knew لَصَفاhe would be serene صَفواًpure serenity بِلاwithout كَدَرmurk
وَلَو دَرى لَصَفا صَفواً بِلا كَدَر
And a man may be driven to obstinacy by his enemy's malice;
And he may seek victory over his foes,
Yet, had he known, he would be wholly serene, free of murk.
While he is between the fangs of death and victory.
وَقَدand sometimes يُحاوِلُhe seeks فيagainst أَعدائِهِhis enemies ظَفراًvictory
وَقَد يُحاوِلُ في أَعدائِهِ ظَفراً
وَأَنَّهُand he is بَينَbetween نابَthe fang of المَوتِdeath وَالظُفَرand the claw
وَأَنَّهُ بَينَ نابَ المَوتِ وَالظُفَر
And he may strive for victory over his enemies,
How often has the bow of the feeble drawn back,
While he stands between death's fang and claw.
And the archer taken away the determination of the bowstring and the arrow.
كَمhow often وَتَّرَتstrung قَوسَa bow of ضَعنٍrancor (likely reading) كَفَّthe hand of ذيone bearing تِرَةٍa blood grievance
كَم وَتَّرَت قَوسَ ضَعنٍ كَفَّ ذي تِرَةٍ
فَأَذهَبَthen swept away المَوتَdeath عَزمَthe resolve of الوِترthe bowstring والوَتِرand the avenger
فَأَذهَبَ المَوتَ عَزمَ الوِتر والوَتِر
How often a wronged man's hand has strung a bow of rancor,
And tears wash away that which is painful in the heart,
Then death dissolved the resolve of bowstring and avenger.
As the rain makes the dust of the earth disappear.
وَالدَمعُand tears يَغسِلُwash away ماwhatever بِالقَلبِin the heart مِنof وَضِرgrime
وَالدَمعُ يَغسِلُ ما بِالقَلبِ مِن وَضِر
كَماjust as يَزولُvanishes غبارَthe dust of الأَرضِthe earth بِالمَطَرwith rain
كَما يَزولُ غبارَ الأَرضِ بِالمَطَر
And tears wash away whatever grime lies in the heart,
If the downpour were just to a tear it would have
As the earth's dust vanishes with rain.
Knowledge of a sea of tears endless.
لَوif أَنصَفَdid justice to اليازِجيal-Yaziji دَمعٌtears لَكانَthere would have been لَهُfor him
لَو أَنصَفَ اليازِجي دَمعٌ لَكانَ لَهُ
كَعِلمِهِlike his learning بِحرَa sea of دَمعٍtears غَيرَnot مُنحَصِرbounded
كَعِلمِهِ بِحرَ دَمعٍ غَيرَ مُنحَصِر
Had tears done al-Yaziji justice, he would have had
Or if the fire of Abraham saw his death,
A boundless sea of tears, like his learning.
It would become a raging inferno from the burning embers.
أَوor لَوif دَرَتknew نارُthe fire of إِبراهيمُIbrahim مَصرَعَهُhis death
أَو لَو دَرَت نارُ إِبراهيمُ مَصرَعَهُ
لِأَصبَحَتit would have become مِنfrom جَوىburning grief لَفاحَةِfiercely scorching الشَرَرsparks
لِأَصبَحَت مِن جَوى لَفاحَةِ الشَرَر
Or had Ibrahim's fire known of his death,
Loss lost when it took away his mind,
It would have blazed with scorching sparks from grief.
Among the writers of prose and verse.
أَودىcarried off الرَدىdeath حينَماwhen أَودىcarried off بِمُهجَتِهِhis lifeblood
أَودى الرَدى حينَما أَودى بِمُهجَتِهِ
بَأَكتُبِthe finest writer of الوَقتِthe age مِنamong بُدوٍnomads وَحَضَرand settled folk
بَأَكتُبِ الوَقتِ مِن بُدوٍ وَحَضَر
Death, in carrying off his very soul, carried off
By his brilliance the blind can almost see him,
The age's finest writer, among nomads and settled folk,
And his eloquence that heals all distress.
بِذيthe possessor of الضِياءِlight تَكادُalmost العَميthe blind تُبصِرُهُsee him
بِذي الضِياءِ تَكادُ العَمي تُبصِرُهُ
وَذيand the possessor of البَيانِeloquence الَّذيwhich يَشفىheals مِنَfrom الحَصَرspeechlessness
وَذي البَيانِ الَّذي يَشفى مِنَ الحَصَر
The bearer of light, whom even the blind could almost see,
After the wind of eloquence died down,
And of eloquence that cures speechlessness.
His compositions became conspicuously lucid.
مِنfrom بَعدِafter ماthat خَمَدَتdied down ريحُthe wind of البَيانِeloquence غَدَتbecame
مِن بَعدِ ما خَمَدَت ريحُ البَيانِ غَدَت
لَهُfor it بِهِthrough him دَولَةٌa realm وَضّاحَةُradiant الغُرَرin its brows
لَهُ بِهِ دَولَةٌ وَضّاحَةُ الغُرَر
After the wind of eloquence had died away, there arose
A phrase whose rhyme shows no imbalance,
For it, through him, a realm with radiant brows.
Like justice it doubts not excess or dearth.
عِبارَةٌan expression لاnot تَرىyou see فيin رَصفِهاits arrangement قَلَقاًdiscord
عِبارَةٌ لا تَرى في رَصفِها قَلَقاً
كَالعَدلِlike justice لَمnot يَشكُit suffered مِنfrom طولٍlength وَلاnor قِصَرshortness
كَالعَدلِ لَم يَشكُ مِن طولٍ وَلا قِصَر
An expression in whose arrangement you see no discord,
You will meet no unsuitable place in it,
Like justice, it suffers from neither length nor brevity.
As if it came to match the meaning.
لاnot تَلتَقيyou encounter مَوضِعاًa place فيهاin it لَهُfor it بَدَلa substitute
لا تَلتَقي مَوضِعاً فيها لَهُ بَدَل
كَأَنَّماas though جاءَتit came to المَعنىthe meaning عَلىaccording to قَدَرa measure
كَأَنَّما جاءَت المَعنى عَلى قَدَر
You find no place in it that admits a substitute,
Eloquent speech wept for him as was his due,
As though it had come to the meaning in perfect measure.
The weeping of all words that came from harm.
بَكَتwept لَهُfor him اللُغَةُthe language الفُصحىclassical وَحَقَّand was rightfully due لَهُto him
بَكَت لَهُ اللُغَةُ الفُصحى وَحَقَّ لَهُ
بُكاءَthe weeping of كُلِّevery كَلامٍutterance جاءَcame عَنfrom مُضَرMudar
بُكاءَ كُلِّ كَلامٍ جاءَ عَن مُضَر
Classical Arabic wept for him, and he deserved
O traveller, pens complained of his absence,
The tears of every utterance that came from Mudar.
And after you none of them remains unbroken.
ياO راحِلاًdeparted one شَكَتِlamented الأَقلامُthe pens غَربَتَهُhis absence
يا راحِلاً شَكَتِ الأَقلامُ غَربَتَهُ
وَلَيسَand there is not بَعدَكَafter you مِنهاamong them غَيرَother than مُنكَسِرa broken one
وَلَيسَ بَعدَكَ مِنها غَيرَ مُنكَسِر
O departed one, whose absence the pens lamented,
They set forth among the eloquent of the age empty,
And after you, not one of them remains unbroken.
Without you they do not shine or illuminate.
نَهَجَتyou traced فيamong بُلَغاءِthe eloquent men of العَصرِthe age وارَدَةًa waterward path (unclear)
نَهَجَت في بُلَغاءِ العَصرِ وارَدَةً
بِالحَقِّin truth لَولاكَwere it not for you لَمnot تُسفِرit brightened وَلَمand not تُنِرit shone
بِالحَقِّ لَولاكَ لَم تُسفِر وَلَم تُنِر
You opened a waterward path among the eloquent men of this age,
To you belongs your right without injustice or excess,
Which, in truth, without you would neither have brightened nor shone.
None deny the sun but the blind.
إِلَيكَto you حَقَّكَyour due لاno ظُلمَinjustice وَلاand no سَرَفexcess
إِلَيكَ حَقَّكَ لا ظُلمَ وَلا سَرَف
لاnot يُنكِرُdenies الشَمسَthe sun إِلّاexcept فاقِدَone lacking البَصَرsight
لا يُنكِرُ الشَمسَ إِلّا فاقِدَ البَصَر
Here is your due: no injustice, no excess.
If critics blame you for haste,
None denies the sun but one bereft of sight.
Only the fruitful tree is stoned.
وَإِنand if يُؤاخِذكَreproach you نِقادٌcritics بِبادِرَةٍfor a hasty lapse
وَإِن يُؤاخِذكَ نِقادٌ بِبادِرَةٍ
فَلَيسَfor not يَرجُمُpelts with stones إِلّاexcept مُثمِرَthe fruit-bearing الشَجَرtrees
فَلَيسَ يَرجُمُ إِلّا مُثمِرَ الشَجَر
And if critics reproach you for a hasty lapse,
And that which is burdensome in the full moon may be blamed,
For only fruit-bearing trees are pelted with stones.
But flaws do not take the essence of beauty from the moon.
وَقَدand sometimes يُعابُis faulted الَّذيthat which فيin البَدرِthe full moon مِنof كَلَفٍdark markings
وَقَد يُعابُ الَّذي في البَدرِ مِن كَلَفٍ
وَلَيسَyet not يَسلُبُtakes away مَعنىthe essence of الحُسنِbeauty فيin القَمَرthe moon
وَلَيسَ يَسلُبُ مَعنى الحُسنِ في القَمَر
And the dark patches in the full moon may be faulted,
To you my greetings with their gentleness,
Yet they do not rob the moon of its beauty.
Like the magic of your words or the breeze at dawn.
إِلَيكَto you مِنّيfrom me تَحِيّاتٍgreetings بِرِقَّتِهاin their tenderness
إِلَيكَ مِنّي تَحِيّاتٍ بِرِقَّتِها
كَسِحرِlike the spell of لَفظِكَyour words أَوor كَالنَفحِlike the breeze فيin السَحَرthe predawn hour
كَسِحرِ لَفظِكَ أَو كَالنَفحِ في السَحَر
To you, from me, greetings whose tenderness is
Go to you the peace of Allah from a man,
Like the spell of your words, or the breeze before dawn.
Past his prime but lasting in effect.
فَاِذهَبso go عَلَيكَupon you سَلامُthe peace of اللَهِGod مِنas a رَجُلٍman
فَاِذهَب عَلَيكَ سَلامُ اللَهِ مِن رَجُلٍ
ماضىgone الحَشاشَةَthe remnant of life لَكَنbut خالِدَimmortal الأَثَرthe legacy
ماضى الحَشاشَةَ لَكَن خالِدَ الأَثَر
Go, then; God's peace be upon you—a man
Whose life is gone, yet whose legacy is immortal.
Partial English translation: 56 of 58 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1