أَلَستَdo you not ترىsee أَنَّthat الزَمانَtime طَوانيhas folded me up
أَلَستَ ترى أَنَّ الزَمانَ طَواني
وَبَدَّلَand changed خَلقيmy bodily form كُلَّهُall of it وَبَرانيand wore me thin
وَبَدَّلَ خَلقي كُلَّهُ وَبَراني
Do you not see that time has folded me up
Do you not see that time has mocked me,
And changed my whole form and worn me thin?
And changed my whole being, leaving me worn?
تَحَيَّفنيwore me away عُضواًa limb فَعُضواًthen another limb فَلَمand so did not يَدَعleave
تَحَيَّفني عُضواً فَعُضواً فَلَم يَدَع
سِوىexcept اِسميmy name صَحيحاًintact وَحدَهُit alone وَلِسانيand my tongue
سِوى اِسمي صَحيحاً وَحدَهُ وَلِساني
It has worn me away, limb after limb, leaving nothing
It has twisted me, limb by limb, and left
But my name alone intact, and my tongue.
Nothing but my name, intact and alone, and my tongue.
وَلَوand if كانَتwere الأَسماءُnames يَدخُلُهاenters them البِلىdecay
وَلَو كانَت الأَسماءُ يَدخُلُها البِلى
لَقَدsurely بَلِيَwould have decayed اِسميmy name لِاِمتِدادِbecause of the length of زَمانيmy lifetime
لَقَد بَلِيَ اِسمي لِاِمتِدادِ زَماني
And if decay could enter names,
And if names could be worn away by time,
My name would surely have decayed from the length of my life.
My name would surely be worn out by the length of my years.
وَماand why لِيَfor me لاnot أَبلىwear away لِتِسعينَafter ninety حجَّةًyears
وَما لِيَ لا أَبلى لِتِسعينَ حجَّةً
وَسَبعٍand seven أَتَتcame مِنfrom بَعدِهاafter them سَنَتانِtwo years
وَسَبعٍ أَتَت مِن بَعدِها سَنَتانِ
And why should I not wear away after ninety years
Why should I not be worn away after ninety pilgrimages,
And seven, followed by another two years?
And two more years that came after them?
إِذاwhen عَنَّappeared ليto me شَخصٌa figure تَخَيَّلَseemed to appear دونَهُbefore it
إِذا عَنَّ لي شَخصٌ تَخَيَّلَ دونَهُ
شَبيهُsomething resembling ضَبابٍmist أَوor شَبيهُsomething resembling دُخانِsmoke
شَبيهُ ضَبابٍ أَو شَبيهُ دُخانِ
When a figure appears to me, before it there seems to be
When someone describes me from memory
Something like mist, or something like smoke.
I am like an illusion, or a whiff of smoke.
فَياso, O راغِباًone longing فيfor العَيشِlife كُنتyou are إنif عاقِلاًwise
فَيا راغِباً في العَيشِ كُنت إن عاقِلاً
فَلاthen no وَعظَadmonition إِلّاexcept دونَshort of لَحظِa glance عِيانِfirsthand sight
فَلا وَعظَ إِلّا دونَ لَحظِ عِيانِ
So, you who long for life, if you are wise,
So if you want to live wisely, my friend,
Then every admonition falls short of a firsthand glance.
Preach no sermon but the sermon sight gives.
Sol 6.1