النهرُthe river مَلْحَمَةٌan epic خَضْراءُgreen تنتَظِرُwaits
النهرُ مَلْحَمَةٌ خَضْراءُ تنتَظِرُ
فانشُرْso spread جَناحَيْكَyour two wings واصدَحْand sing out أيهاO الوتَرُstring
فانشُرْ جَناحَيْكَ واصدَحْ أيها الوتَرُ
The river is a green epic, waiting.
The river is a green epic waiting
So spread your two wings and sing out, O string.
So spread your wings and resound O lute
تَعالَcome منfrom وَحْشةِdesolation الصحراءِthe desert منfrom ظَمَأٍa thirst
تَعالَ من وَحْشةِ الصحراءِ من ظَمَأٍ
ماnot زالَhas ceased فيin الجَسَدِthe body المسحوقِcrushed يَسْتَعِرُblazes
ما زالَ في الجَسَدِ المسحوقِ يَسْتَعِرُ
Come from the desert's desolation, from a thirst
Come from the wilderness of the desert, from thirst
still blazing in the crushed body.
That still burns in the crushed body, blazing
تَعالَcome ياO بَدْرُBadr، شارِكْناshare with us عَشِيَّتَناour evening
تَعالَ يا بَدْرُ، شارِكْنا عَشِيَّتَنا
عنكَabout you الحديثُthe talk، ومنand from ديوانِكَyour poetry collection الخَبرُthe news
عنكَ الحديثُ، ومن ديوانِكَ الخَبرُ
Come, Badr, share our evening.
Come O full moon, share with us our evening
The talk is of you, the news from your collected poems.
Of you is the talk, and from your collection the news
تعالَcome منْfrom عذَباتِthe tips of النَّخْلِthe palms وَشْوَشةًas a whisper
تعالَ منْ عذَباتِ النَّخْلِ وَشْوَشةً
منfrom شُرْفةٍa balcony راحَbegan عنهاfrom it يَرْحَلُto depart القَمَرُthe moon
من شُرْفةٍ راحَ عنها يَرْحَلُ القَمَرُ
Come as a whisper from the tips of the palms,
Come from the torment of palms and commotion
from a balcony the moon has begun to leave.
From a balcony from which the moon departed and traveled
إنَّاindeed we ضُيوفُكَyour guests فانْزِلْso come down.. غابتَاكyour two forests هناhere
إنَّا ضُيوفُكَ فانْزِلْ.. غابتَاك هنا
عَيْنانِtwo eyes يُورِقُputs forth leaves فيin غَوْريهماtheir two depths السَّحَرُthe predawn hour
عَيْنانِ يُورِقُ في غَوْريهما السَّحَرُ
We are your guests, so come down—your two forests are here:
We are your guests so descend.. Your absences here
two eyes in whose depths the predawn hour puts forth leaves.
Two eyes flourishing in their depths the magic
تَعالَcome، فالنهْرُfor the river أصْداءٌechoes مُعَطّرةٌperfumed
تَعالَ، فالنهْرُ أصْداءٌ مُعَطّرةٌ
ونحنُand we عنabout كلevery حرفٍletter قلتَهyou uttered it سَمَرُnighttime conversation
ونحنُ عن كل حرفٍ قلتَه سَمَرُ
Come, for the river is fragrant echoes,
Come, for the river is scented echoes
and we are nighttime talk of every letter you uttered.
And we from every word you said are night talking
نجوبُwe roam غاباتِكَyour forests العذراءَvirgin، نَسْألُهاwe question them
نجوبُ غاباتِكَ العذراءَ، نَسْألُها
وتُنْصِتُand listens الغيمةُthe cloud الزرقاءُblue والنّهرُand the river
وتُنْصِتُ الغيمةُ الزرقاءُ والنّهرُ
We roam your virgin forests, questioning them,
We traverse your virgin forests, we ask them
while the blue cloud and the river listen.
And the blue cloud listens and the river
لمnot يَذبُلِhas withered الوَرْدُthe rose.. ماnot زالَتْhas ceased تُنضرُهُrefreshes it
لم يَذبُلِ الوَرْدُ.. ما زالَتْ تُنضرُهُ
كأسٌa cup منof الشَّهَقاتِthe gasps الحُمْرِcrimson تُعتَصَرُis pressed out
كأسٌ من الشَّهَقاتِ الحُمْرِ تُعتَصَرُ
The rose has not withered; it is still refreshed
The roses did not wilt.. They still thrive
by a cup pressed from crimson gasps.
A cup of red sighs squeezed
ماnot زِلْتَyou have ceased فيin "مَنْزِلِthe house of الأقنانِthe serfs" قافيةًa rhyme
ما زِلْتَ في "مَنْزِلِ الأقنانِ" قافيةً
تَنْدىgrows dewy اذاwhen غمغَمتْit murmured تَنْدَىgrows dewy بهاthrough it سَفَرُa journey
تَنْدى اذا غمغَمتْ تَنْدَى بها سَفَرُ
You remain a rhyme in "The House of Serfs,"
You still are in the “house of vines” a rhyme
dewy when it murmurs; through it, a journey grows dewy.
Dewy if you hummed, dewy with it the journey
مَررْتُI passed ياO بَدْرُBadr بالسمراءِby the dusky woman ساهمةًpensive
مَررْتُ يا بَدْرُ بالسمراءِ ساهمةً
وand"بالشناشيلِby the latticed balconies" خَجْلَىabashed منكَbefore you، تعتذِرُapologizes
و"بالشناشيلِ" خَجْلَى منكَ، تعتذِرُ
I passed, Badr, by the dusky woman as she brooded,
I passed by the dark one aimless
and by the "Shanashil," abashed before you, apologizing.
And with “the scarves” shy of you, apologizing
سقَيْتَهاyou gave her to drink عَبَراتِtears of الخُلْدِimmortality صافيةًpure
سقَيْتَها عَبَراتِ الخُلْدِ صافيةً
فماbut not أَحسَّتْكَshe sensed you حتىuntil آذَنَgave notice السَّفَرُdeparture
فما أَحسَّتْكَ حتى آذَنَ السَّفَرُ
You gave her pure tears of immortality to drink,
You watered her with the pure tears of eternity
but she did not sense you until departure announced itself.
She did not feel you until the journey was announced
عذراءُthe maiden of شِعْركَyour poetry فيin الذكرىmemory، أتُبْصِرُهاdo you see her?؟
عذراءُ شِعْركَ في الذكرى، أتُبْصِرُها؟
أيُّwhich الطيوفِthe phantoms علىupon الأهْدابِthe eyelashes ينكسِرُbreaks؟
أيُّ الطيوفِ على الأهْدابِ ينكسِرُ؟
Your poetry's maiden, there in memory—do you see her?
The virgin of your poetry in memory, do I see her?
Which of the phantoms breaks upon the eyelashes?
Which of the ghosts on the eyelids is broken?
أيُّwhich الأغاريدthe songs مماof what كنتَyou used to تسكُبُهُyou pour it
أيُّ الأغاريد مما كنتَ تسكُبُهُ
فيinto سَمْعِهاher hearing تستعيدُshe recalls الآنَnow، تَذَكّرُshe remembers؟
في سَمْعِها تستعيدُ الآنَ، تَذَكّرُ؟
Which of the songs, of all you used to pour
Which of the tunes that you used to pour
into her hearing, does she now recall, remember?
In her hearing does she now recall, remember?
ياO عاصرpresser of الكرمِthe vines يَسقيhe gives to drink الناسَthe people خمرتَهُhis wine
يا عاصر الكرمِ يَسقي الناسَ خمرتَهُ
وفيand in جحيمٍa hell منof الحِرْمانِdeprivation ينتَحِرُhe kills himself
وفي جحيمٍ من الحِرْمانِ ينتَحِرُ
O presser of the vines, who gives the people his wine to drink,
O intimate of generosity, watering people your wine
and kills himself in a hell of deprivation,
And in a hell of deprivation commits suicide
إِنَّاindeed we ضُيوفُكَyour guests.. فانْزِلْso come down بينناamong us نَغَماًas a melody
إِنَّا ضُيوفُكَ.. فانْزِلْ بيننا نَغَماً
ماnot زالَhas ceased يحلُمُdreams فيهwithin it الدِّفْءwarmth والمَطَرُand rain
ما زالَ يحلُمُ فيه الدِّفْء والمَطَرُ
we are your guests; descend among us as a melody
We are your guests.. So descend among us a tune
in which warmth and rain still dream.
That still dreams warmth and rain in it
تَحجَّرَturned to stone الدّفْقُthe outpouring تمثالاًas a statue نطوفُwe circle بهaround it
تَحجَّرَ الدّفْقُ تمثالاً نطوفُ به
وحديI alone يُشاطِرُنيshares with me أَسرارَهits secrets الحَجَرُthe stone
وحدي يُشاطِرُني أَسرارَه الحَجَرُ
The outpouring turned to stone, a statue we circle;
The amity ossified into a statue we circle
with me alone, the stone shares its secrets.
And the stone alone shares with me its secrets
أكادُI almost أسمعُهاhear them زَهْراءَradiant غاضِبةًangry
أكادُ أسمعُها زَهْراءَ غاضِبةً
تملْمَلَstirred restlessly الجوعُhunger فيهانwithin them (irregular spelling) واشْتَكَىand complained السَّهَرُsleeplessness
تملْمَلَ الجوعُ فيهان واشْتَكَى السَّهَرُ
I almost hear them, radiant and angry:
I almost hear her angry and pouting
hunger stirred restlessly within them, and sleeplessness complained.
Hunger writhed in her and insomnia complained
تَبُثُّنيthey confide to me حُبَّكyour love المطعونَstabbed: غادرةٌfaithless
تَبُثُّني حُبَّك المطعونَ: غادرةٌ
هذيthis one، وتلكَand that one، وأَشْياءٌand things لهاof hers أُخَرُother
هذي، وتلكَ، وأَشْياءٌ لها أُخَرُ
They confide your wounded love to me: faithless
Your wounded love broadcasts me: unfaithful ones
are this one, and that one, and other things of hers.
This one, and that, and other things it has
"إلَهةٌa goddess" صُغْتُI fashioned منهاfrom her، وَهْيَwhile she غافلةٌunaware
"إلَهةٌ" صُغْتُ منها، وَهْيَ غافلةٌ
ياO "لَلْإِلَهِwhat a god!".. تَشَهَّىcraved لَمْسَهtouching him البَشَرُhumankind!
يا "لَلْإِلَهِ".. تَشَهَّى لَمْسَه البَشَرُ!
"A goddess" I fashioned from her, while she was unaware;
I was sculpted from a “goddess” and she is oblivious
O, that "god" whom mortals longed to touch!
O “God”.. mortals craved to touch her!
أحببتُهاI loved her، لَهثَتْpanted روحيmy soul بقافيةٍwith a rhyme
أحببتُها، لَهثَتْ روحي بقافيةٍ
فيin شَعْرِهاher hair، دَفْتريmy notebook منfrom شَعْرِهاher hair عَطِرُfragrant
في شَعْرِها، دَفْتري من شَعْرِها عَطِرُ
I loved her; my soul panted with a rhyme
I loved her, my soul panted in a rhyme
in her hair; my notebook is fragrant with her hair.
In her poetry, my notebook scented of her poetry
وماand not ظَفِرْتُI won بُهدْبٍan eyelash يَستريحُrests علىupon
وما ظَفِرْتُ بُهدْبٍ يَستريحُ على
جوعٍhunger أُهَشَّمُI am shattered فيin فكّيهِits two jaws، أنصَهِرُI melt
جوعٍ أُهَشَّمُ في فكّيهِ، أنصَهِرُ
And I gained no eyelash resting upon
And I never gained a cheek to rest upon
a hunger in whose jaws I am shattered and melt.
Famished I crumble in my jaws, melt
تَعاسةُthe misery of الشعرِpoetry فيin قِيثارتيmy lyre قَدَرٌfate
تَعاسةُ الشعرِ في قِيثارتي قَدَرٌ
حَسْبيenough for me، شَبِعتُI have had my fill شَقاءًof misery أيهاO القدَرُfate!
حَسْبي، شَبِعتُ شَقاءً أيها القدَرُ!
The misery of poetry in my lyre is fate.
The misery of poetry in my lyre is fate
Enough for me! I have had my fill of misery, O fate!
Enough, I am satiated with misery O fate!
ونقتُلُand we kill الليلَthe night أَسْماراًas evening tales مُجَرّحةًwounded
ونقتُلُ الليلَ أَسْماراً مُجَرّحةً
ياO لَلطُّفولةِwhat childhood!.. كمhow يحلوis sweet بهاin it الهّذَرُidle chatter!
يا لَلطُّفولةِ.. كم يحلو بها الهّذَرُ!
And we kill the night with wounded evening tales.
And we kill the night wakefully wounded
Oh, childhood—how sweet idle chatter is in it!
O for childhood.. how sweet is the chatter in it!
قيثارةَlyre of الدارthe house، جِئْناwe came منfrom مآتِمِناour funerals
قيثارةَ الدار، جِئْنا من مآتِمِنا
منfrom المَجازرِthe massacres لاnot تُبْقِيspare ولاand not تَذَرُleave
من المَجازرِ لا تُبْقِي ولا تَذَرُ
O lyre of the house, we have come from our funerals,
The lyre of the house, we came from our bereavements
from massacres that spare nothing and leave nothing.
From the massacres that leave no survivors
جِئْناwe came نَلمُّكَwe gather you أَلْحاناًas melodies مُبَعْثَرةًscattered
جِئْنا نَلمُّكَ أَلْحاناً مُبَعْثَرةً
فيin كلِّevery حَنْجَرةٍthroat منof نَبْضِهاtheir pulse أَثرُa trace
في كلِّ حَنْجَرةٍ من نَبْضِها أَثرُ
We have come to gather you as scattered melodies,
We came to pluck you scattered tunes
in every throat, a trace of their pulse.
In every throat among them a trace
إِنْزِلْcome down إليناto us.. فقدfor perhaps تَلْقَىyou find العَزاءَsolace بناin us
إِنْزِلْ إلينا.. فقد تَلْقَى العَزاءَ بنا
ألمhas ... not? يُمزَّقْكَtear you apart فيin صحرائِكَyour desert الضجَرُboredom؟
ألم يُمزَّقْكَ في صحرائِكَ الضجَرُ؟
Come down to us; perhaps you will find solace in us.
Descend to us.. For you found consolation with us
Has boredom not torn you apart in your desert?
Did not boredom shred you in your desert?
Sol 6.1