تَقولُshe says أَلاpray! أَقصِرdesist! مِنَfrom الغَزوِraiding وَاِشتَكىand complained
تَقولُ أَلا أَقصِر مِنَ الغَزوِ وَاِشتَكى
لَهاon her behalf القَولَthe words طَرفٌan eye أَحوَرُcontrasting dark and white العَينِof the eye دامِعُtearful
لَها القَولَ طَرفٌ أَحوَرُ العَينِ دامِعُ
She says, “Desist from raiding!”—and her complaint is voiced
By a tearful eye, its iris dark against the white.
سَأُغنيكِI shall spare you عَنfrom رَجعِrepetition المَلامِreproach بِمُزمَعٍthrough a firm resolve
سَأُغنيكِ عَن رَجعِ المَلامِ بِمُزمَعٍ
مِنَof الأَمرِthe matter لاnot يَعشوsees dimly عَلَيهِconcerning it المُطاوِعُthe willing follower
مِنَ الأَمرِ لا يَعشو عَلَيهِ المُطاوِعُ
I shall spare you repeated reproach through a firm resolve
Upon a course no willing follower can mistake.
لَبوسٌever wearing ثِيابَthe garments of المَوتِdeath حَتّىeven إِلىtoward الَّذيthe one who
لَبوسٌ ثِيابَ المَوتِ حَتّى إِلى الَّذي
يُوائِمُseeks accord إِمّاeither سائِمٌa bargainer أَوor مُصارِعُa wrestler
يُوائِمُ إِمّا سائِمٌ أَو مُصارِعُ
I am ever clad in death’s robes, even before one
Who seeks accord, whether bargaining or wrestling.
إِذاwhen أَرهَنَتهُholds him hostage المَينَfalsehood شَدَّةُthe onslaught of ماجِدٍa noble man
إِذا أَرهَنَتهُ المَينَ شَدَّةُ ماجِدٍ
فَوَرَّعَهاthen held it back القَومُthe men الأُلىwho ثُمَّthen ماصَعواthey exchanged blows
فَوَرَّعَها القَومُ الأُلى ثُمَّ ماصَعوا
When a noble man’s onslaught holds him hostage to falsehood,
Then the men who afterward exchange blows hold it back.
وَيَدعونَنيand they call me كَهلاًmiddle-aged وَقَدthough indeed عِشتُI have lived حِقبَةًa long span
وَيَدعونَني كَهلاً وَقَد عِشتُ حِقبَةً
وَهُنَّwhile they عَنِaway from الأَزواجِthe husbands نَحويtoward me نَوازِعُdrawn
وَهُنَّ عَنِ الأَزواجِ نَحوي نَوازِعُ
They call me middle-aged, though I have lived for years
With women drawn toward me, away from their husbands.
كَأَنّيas though I were حِصانٌa stallion مالَslipped aside عَنهُfrom him جِلالُهُhis coverings
كَأَنّي حِصانٌ مالَ عَنهُ جِلالُهُ
أَغَرُّwhite-blazed كَريمٌnoble حَولَهُaround him العوذُnewly foaled mares راتِعُgrazing freely
أَغَرُّ كَريمٌ حَولَهُ العوذُ راتِعُ
As though I were a stallion whose coverings have slipped aside,
White-blazed and noble, grazing with newly foaled mares around him.
فَماso not شابَturned gray رَأسيmy head مِنfrom سِنينَyears تَتابَعَتfollowed one another
فَما شابَ رَأسي مِن سِنينَ تَتابَعَت
طِوالٍlong وَلَكِنbut rather شَيَّبَتهُmade it gray الوَقائِعُthe battles
طِوالٍ وَلَكِن شَيَّبَتهُ الوَقائِعُ
My head has not gone gray from years that followed one another,
Long though they were; battles, rather, turned it gray.
Sol 6.1