ياO سائِليyou who ask me عَنabout حالَتيmy state
يا سائِلي عَن حالَتي
لاdo not تَسأَلَنever ask عَمّاabout what يَغُمُّcauses grief
لا تَسأَلَن عَمّا يَغُمُّ
O you who ask me about my state,
O you who ask about my state
Do not ever ask about what brings grief:
Do not ask about what saddens me
عَمّاabout what المُصابُthe loss بِفِتيَةٍof young men
عَمّا المُصابُ بِفِتيَةٍ
كانَتwere مَواهِبُهُمtheir gifts تَعُمُّreach everyone
كانَت مَواهِبُهُم تَعُمُّ
About the loss of young men
About those youths of noble traits
Whose gifts used to reach everyone.
Whose talents did encompass me
وَحَصَلتُand I ended up بَعدَهُمafter them عَلىwith
وَحَصَلتُ بَعدَهُم عَلى
مَنthose who هُمthey لِقَلبِto the heart of الدَهرِTime هَمُّa burden
مَن هُم لِقَلبِ الدَهرِ هَمُّ
And after them I ended up with
And after them I found a folk
Those who burden the heart of Time:
Who are to time's heart a constant woe
قَومٌpeople أَنامِلُهُمtheir fingertips حَصىًpebbles
قَومٌ أَنامِلُهُم حَصىً
وَوُجوهُهُمand their faces صَخرٌrock أَصَمُّsolid; deaf
وَوُجوهُهُم صَخرٌ أَصَمُّ
People whose fingertips are pebbles,
A folk whose fingers are like pebbles
And whose faces are solid rock.
And their faces like rocks hewn hard and slow
Sol 6.1