خُلَيْقانِtwo worn-out things هَلْهالانِboth threadbare لاno خَيْرَgood فيهماin them both
خُلَيْقانِ هَلْهالانِ لا خَيْرَ فيهما
إِذاwhen هَبَّتِrose الأَرواحُthe winds يَصْطَفِقانِboth flap against each other
إِذا هَبَّتِ الأَرواحُ يَصْطَفِقانِ
Two worn-out, threadbare things, with no good in them;
Ghosts of past ruins, no good in them,
When the winds rise, they flap against each other.
When the winds blow, they quiver and shake,
رِواقانِtwo canopies تَهْويrushes الرِّيحُthe wind فوقabove ذَراهماtheir crests
رِواقانِ تَهْوي الرِّيحُ فوق ذَراهما
وباللّيلِand at night يسريcreeps فيهماthrough them both الْيَرَقانِjaundice
وباللّيلِ يسري فيهما الْيَرَقانِ
Two canopies: the wind rushes above their crests,
Corridors where the winds howl over their particles,
And at night jaundice creeps through them both.
And at night the vipers slither through them,
ولمand did not أَتْبَعِI follow الأَظْعانَthe departing litters فيin رَوْنَقِthe radiance of الضُّحىthe forenoon
ولم أَتْبَعِ الأَظْعانَ في رَوْنَقِ الضُّحى
ورَحْليand my saddle علىon نهّاضةِa vigorously springing she-camel الخَدَيانِswift trotting
ورَحْلي على نهّاضةِ الخَدَيانِ
And I did not follow the departing litters in the radiance of morning,
Nor did I follow the gazelles at dawn’s blossom,
With my saddle upon a vigorously trotting she-camel.
My journey was on the cheeks of the beauties,
ولاnor خَطَرَتْpaced عَنْسٌa sturdy she-camel بِأَغْبَرَthrough a dusty waste نازِحٍfar-off
ولا خَطَرَتْ عَنْسٌ بِأَغْبَرَ نازِحٍ
ولاnor ماwhat نَحَتْpoured forth عينايَmy two eyes فيin الهَمَلانِstreaming tears
ولا ما نَحَتْ عينايَ في الهَمَلانِ
Nor did a sturdy she-camel pace through a distant, dusty waste,
No graceful doe crossed my mind,
Nor what my eyes poured forth in their streaming.
Nor what my eyes engraved on the sand dunes,
كَأَنَهماas though they both were هَزْمانِtwo holes منin مُسْتَشِنَّةٍa worn-out waterskin
كَأَنَهما هَزْمانِ من مُسْتَشِنَّةٍ
يُسَدّانِboth are stopped up أَحْياناًsometimes ويَنْفَجِرانِand both burst forth
يُسَدّانِ أَحْياناً ويَنْفَجِرانِ
As though they were two holes in a worn-out waterskin,
As if they were remnants of worn out tents,
Sometimes stopped up, then bursting forth.
At times sealed, at others bursting open,
أَرىI see طائِرَيَّmy two birds الأَوَّلَيْنِthe former two تَبَدَّلاboth have changed
أَرى طائِرَيَّ الأَوَّلَيْنِ تَبَدَّلا
إِليَّtoward me فماso not ليfor me منهماfor them both بَدَلانِtwo substitutes
إِليَّ فما لي منهما بَدَلانِ
I see that my two former birds have changed
I see my two early birds changed,
Toward me, and I have no substitutes for them.
To me, so I have no substitute for them,
أَحَصّانِboth hairless منfrom نَحْوِthe region of الأَسافِلِthe lower parts جُرّداboth stripped bare
أَحَصّانِ من نَحْوِ الأَسافِلِ جُرّدا
أَلِفّانِboth thickly covered مِنْat أَعلاهماtheir upper parts هَدِيانِtwo guides
أَلِفّانِ مِنْ أَعلاهما هَدِيانِ
Both hairless below, stripped bare;
They counted me from below barefoot,
Thickly covered above, two guides
While from above, they were two guides,
لِعَفْراءَto Afra إِذْwhen فيin الدّهْرِtime والنّاسِand people غَرَّةٌheedlessness
لِعَفْراءَ إِذْ في الدّهْرِ والنّاسِ غَرَّةٌ
وإِذْand when حُلُقاناour two throats بالصِّباwith youth يَسَرانِboth are at ease
وإِذْ حُلُقانا بالصِّبا يَسَرانِ
To Afra, when time and people were heedless,
To a blond, as time and people are fickle,
And when our two throats were at ease with youth,
And as we orbited in childhood blissfully,
لأَدْنُوَso that I may approach مِنْto بيضاءَa fair-skinned woman خفّاقَةِfluttering الحشاthe inner breast
لأَدْنُوَ مِنْ بيضاءَ خفّاقَةِ الحشا
بُنَيَّةِlittle daughter ذيone possessing قاذورةٍfoul temper شَنآنِhatred
بُنَيَّةِ ذي قاذورةٍ شَنآنِ
So that I might approach a fair-skinned, fluttering-hearted woman,
So I may approach the white fluttering of the courtyard,
The little daughter of an ill-tempered, hate-filled man.
Of evil intention, hostility and malice,
كَأَنَّas though وِشاحَيْهاher two sashes إِذاwhen ماever (emphasis) ارْتَدَتْهماshe wore them both
كَأَنَّ وِشاحَيْها إِذا ما ارْتَدَتْهما
وقامتْand stood up عِناناtwo reins of مُهرَةٍa filly سَلِسانِboth supple
وقامتْ عِنانا مُهرَةٍ سَلِسانِ
As though her two sashes, whenever she wore them
As if her cheeks when she dons the veil,
And stood up, were a filly's two supple reins.
And stands with the composure of a gentle mare,
يَعَضُّbites بِأَبْدانٍinto fleshy parts لهاof hers مُلْتَقاهماtheir meeting-place
يَعَضُّ بِأَبْدانٍ لها مُلْتَقاهما
ومَثْناهُماand their folded lengths رِخْوانِboth loose يَضْطَرِبانِboth sway
ومَثْناهُما رِخْوانِ يَضْطَرِبانِ
Their meeting-place bites into her flesh,
Bite bodies that meet them,
And their folded lengths are loose and sway.
And their flexing is of swaying branches,
وتَحْتَهماand beneath them both حِقْفانِtwo curved sand dunes قدalready ضَرَبَتْهماstruck them both
وتَحْتَهما حِقْفانِ قد ضَرَبَتْهما
قِطارٌshowers مِنَfrom الجوزاءِal-Jawza, a constellation مُلْتَبِدانِboth compacted
قِطارٌ مِنَ الجوزاءِ مُلْتَبِدانِ
And beneath them lie two curved dunes, struck
Under them two dimples, stricken,
By showers from al-Jawza, firmly compacted.
By a line of beauty marks, overflowing,
أَعَفْراءُO Afra كمhow many مِنْof زَفْرَةِa sigh قدindeed أَذَقْتِنيyou made me taste
أَعَفْراءُ كم مِنْ زَفْرَةِ قد أَذَقْتِني
وحزْنٍand grief أَلَجَّmade persist العيْنَthe eye بالهَمَلانِin streaming tears
وحزْنٍ أَلَجَّ العيْنَ بالهَمَلانِ
O Afra, how many a sigh you have made me taste,
Blondie, how many sighs you have let me taste,
And grief that drove the eye to ceaseless streaming!
And sorrows that squeezed the eyes with sadness,
فَلَوْso if أَنَّthat عَيْنَيْthe two eyes of ذيone possessed of هوىًlove فاضَتاboth overflowed دَماًblood
فَلَوْ أَنَّ عَيْنَيْ ذي هوىً فاضَتا دَماً
لَفاضَتْwould surely overflow دَماًblood عينايَmy two eyes تَبْتَدِرانِboth racing each other
لَفاضَتْ دَماً عينايَ تَبْتَدِرانِ
So if the eyes of one in love should overflow with blood,
If my lovesick eyes shed blood instead of tears,
My eyes would overflow with blood, racing each other.
They would shed blood copiously, pouring out,
فَهَلْso will حادِياthe two camel-drivers of عفراءَAfra إِنْif خِفْتَyou feared فَوْتَهاmissing her
فَهَلْ حادِيا عفراءَ إِنْ خِفْتَ فَوْتَها
عَليَّfor me إِذاwhen نادَيْتُI called مُرعَوِيانِboth holding back
عَليَّ إِذا نادَيْتُ مُرعَوِيانِ
So will Afra's two camel-drivers—if you fear missing her—
So, my two companions, if you fear her loss,
Hold back for me when I call?
Cry out to me, when calling out longingly,
ضَروبانِboth habitual beaters للتّاليof the follower القطوفِthe slow-paced one إذاwhen وَنىit flagged
ضَروبانِ للتّالي القطوفِ إذا وَنى
مُشيحانِboth hurrying on منfrom بَغْضائِناour enmity حَذِرانِboth wary
مُشيحانِ من بَغْضائِنا حَذِرانِ
They beat the slow-paced follower when it flags,
alternate rhythms for the wandering gaze, when it languishes,
Hurrying on, wary of our enmity.
Vigilant of our hatred, cautious.
Sol 6.1