وكَيفَand how بَقاءُliving on المَرءِa man بَعدَafter اِبنِson أُمِّهِhis mother
وكَيفَ بَقاءُ المَرءِ بَعدَ اِبنِ أُمِّهِ
إِذاwhen بَرَقَتgleamed أَوصالُهُhis joints كَالمَحاجِنِlike hooked staffs
إِذا بَرَقَت أَوصالُهُ كَالمَحاجِنِ
And how can a man live on after his mother's son,
How can a man live on when his mother's son is gone,
When his joints gleam like hooked staffs?
When his joints are as brittle as dry twigs?
أَخيmy brother ماwhat a أَخيmy brother لاnot فاحِشٌmiserly عِندَat بَيتِهِhis house
أَخي ما أَخي لا فاحِشٌ عِندَ بَيتِهِ
وَلاnor مُرثَعِنٌّsluggish ساقِطٌslumped فيin الدَواخِنِthe smoke-filled dwellings
وَلا مُرثَعِنٌّ ساقِطٌ في الدَواخِنِ
My brother—what a brother he was! Not miserly at home,
O brother, my brother was no debaucher in his house,
Nor sluggish, slumped in smoke-filled dwellings.
No sluggard lolling about in the corners,
وَماand not كانَhe was وَقّافاًone who hangs back إِذاwhen الخَيلُthe horses أَحجَمَتbalked
وَما كانَ وَقّافاً إِذا الخَيلُ أَحجَمَت
وَلاnor وَرِعاًtimid جَثّامَةًa habitual croucher فيin الأَماكِنِthe places
وَلا وَرِعاً جَثّامَةً في الأَماكِنِ
And he was not one to hang back when the horses balked,
Nor did he hold back when horses charged in battle,
Nor timid, forever crouching in place.
No over-pious hypocrite in his haunts.
Sol 6.1