فيat مطلعِthe opening of الشِّعرِpoetry حُزنٌa sorrow كنتُI was مُضناهُone worn down by it
في مطلعِ الشِّعرِ حُزنٌ كنتُ مُضناهُ
فيat آخرِthe end of الحُزنِsorrow وَلَّىturned away مَنْthe one who سينعاهُwill mourn it
في آخرِ الحُزنِ وَلَّى مَنْ سينعاهُ
At poetry's opening lies a sorrow that had worn me down.
At the dawn of poetry there is a sadness I have endured
At sorrow's end, the one who would mourn it turned away.
At the end of sadness, he who will console it has gone
ماdid not ألْهَمَinspire الشِّعْرُpoetry أبْياتيmy verses لهدْأتِهاfor their repose
ما ألْهَمَ الشِّعْرُ أبْياتي لهدْأتِها
ناحَwailed الرَّويُّthe rhyme consonant حَزيناًsorrowfully فاغِراًopening wide فاهُits mouth
ناحَ الرَّويُّ حَزيناً فاغِراً فاهُ
Poetry did not inspire my verses to find repose.
Poetry did not inspire my verses so I could calm them
The rhyme consonant wailed sorrowfully, its mouth agape.
The narrator wept sadly, his mouth agape
أسْتَسْمِحُI ask pardon of الضَّادَthe letter ḍād إذْsince أسْقيتُهاI gave it to drink ألَميmy pain
أسْتَسْمِحُ الضَّادَ إذْ أسْقيتُها ألَمي
ماnot كُلٌّall ماthat which تَتَمنّىdesires الضَّادُthe letter ḍād تَلْقاهُit finds it
ما كُلٌّ ما تَتَمنّى الضَّادُ تَلْقاهُ
I beg the letter ḍād's pardon, for I gave it my pain to drink.
I beg the “d” when I quenched its pain with my agony
The letter ḍād does not find everything it desires.
Not everything the “d” wishes for will it find
اللهُGod فيin عَوْنِaid of شِعْريmy poetry كَمْhow much بَكىwept وَجَعيmy pain
اللهُ في عَوْنِ شِعْري كَمْ بَكى وَجَعي
والنَّثْرُand prose فيon وَرَقيmy paper دَمْعيmy tears تَبَناهُadopted it
والنَّثْرُ في وَرَقي دَمْعي تَبَناهُ
God help my poetry—how much it has wept over my pain!
God helps my poetry, how much my torment wept
And prose on my paper has adopted my tears.
And prose in my papers, my tears soaked them
ياO صاحِبيَّmy two friends وَكَيْفَand how القَلْبُthe heart أُسْكِتُهُI silence it
يا صاحِبيَّ وَكَيْفَ القَلْبُ أُسْكِتُهُ
قَدْindeed أقْسَمَhas sworn الهَجْرُabandonment أنْto يَسْقيهِgive it to drink مَنْفاهُits exile
قَدْ أقْسَمَ الهَجْرُ أنْ يَسْقيهِ مَنْفاهُ
O my two friends, how can I silence the heart?
My friend, how can I silence this heart
Abandonment has sworn to make it drink its exile.
Separation has sworn to water it with its banishment
حُزْنيmy sorrow تَسَرْمَدَbecame eternal بالأنّاتِwith groans يَجْلِدُنيlashes me
حُزْني تَسَرْمَدَ بالأنّاتِ يَجْلِدُني
أمْسىhas become حُبوريmy joy فَقيداًa departed one ضاعَwas lost مَعْناهُits meaning
أمْسى حُبوري فَقيداً ضاعَ مَعْناهُ
My sorrow has become eternal; with groans it lashes me.
My sadness eternally whips me with sighs
My joy is now departed, its meaning lost.
My loved one became a lost symbol
الرّوحُthe soul تَنفِثُexhales جَمْراًembers مِنْfrom حَرائِقِهاits fires
الرّوحُ تَنفِثُ جَمْراً مِنْ حَرائِقِها
والقلبُand the heart جَمْرُembers of الغَضىthe ghada tree أمسىhave become سُوَيْدَاهُits innermost core
والقلبُ جَمْرُ الغَضى أمسى سُوَيْدَاهُ
The soul exhales embers from its fires.
The soul breathes embers from its blaze
And the heart—ghada embers have become its innermost core.
And the heart is the embers of fury, its flames enveloped it
وَغُرْبَتيand my estrangement مِنْfrom دَميmy blood أقداحهاits cups ثملتgrew drunk
وَغُرْبَتي مِنْ دَمي أقداحها ثملت
فَلْقُthe rift of الشَّتاتِdispersal بِروحيthrough my soul قَدَّcarved مَجْراهُits course
فَلْقُ الشَّتاتِ بِروحي قَدَّ مَجْراهُ
And my estrangement—its cups grew drunk on my blood.
My estrangement from my blood—its cups made me drunk
Dispersal's rift has carved its course through my soul.
So the diaspora’s meetup escorted my soul on its course
شَرِبْتُI drank مِنْfrom حسْرَةِthe anguish of المَاضِينَthose who have gone، أَثْخَنَنِيgrievously wounded me
شَرِبْتُ مِنْ حسْرَةِ المَاضِينَ، أَثْخَنَنِي
نَصْلٌa blade لِبيْنٍof parting طَغىraged unchecked أضحيتُI became مَرْماهُits target
نَصْلٌ لِبيْنٍ طَغى أضحيتُ مَرْماهُ
I drank from the anguish of those who have gone; I was grievously wounded by
I drank from the regret of the departed, it wounded me
a blade of parting that raged unchecked; I became its target.
A separation’s sword raged and I became its target
أواهُalas ماليwhat is wrong with me? يُبارينيvies with me الأسىsorrow علناًopenly
أواهُ مالي يُباريني الأسى علناً
يُصْليscorches شِغافيmy heart's membrane إذاwhen ماan emphatic particle كِدْتُI almost أنْساهُI forget it
يُصْلي شِغافي إذا ما كِدْتُ أنْساهُ
Alas, why does sorrow vie with me openly?
My money rivals me openly with misery
It scorches my heart's membrane whenever I almost forget it.
It prays when I almost forget my passion
أرْضىI accept بِعَلْقَمwith bitter colocynth خَيْباتيmy disappointments فَتَذْبَحُنيthen they slaughter me
أرْضى بِعَلْقَم خَيْباتي فَتَذْبَحُني
أسْيافُthe swords of هَمٍّa worry يُبارينيvies with me بِيُمْناهُwith its right hand
أسْيافُ هَمٍّ يُباريني بِيُمْناهُ
I accept the bitter colocynth of my disappointments; then I am slaughtered by
I admit to the thickets of my failures so they slaughter me
the swords of a worry that vies with me using its right hand.
Swords of worries rival me on its right
فإنْso if صَرَخْتُI cried out أعابواthey found fault with صَرْخَتيmy cry ومَضواand they went on
فإنْ صَرَخْتُ أعابوا صَرْخَتي ومَضوا
والصَّمْتُand silence أعْيىexhausted صُراخيmy outcry ثُمَّthen أرْداهُkilled it
والصَّمْتُ أعْيى صُراخي ثُمَّ أرْداهُ
So if I cry out, they find fault with my cry and move on.
So if I cry they rebuke my screams and leave
And silence exhausted my outcry, then killed it.
While silence blinds my screams and casts them away
والهَمُّand worry حلّsettled بأرضيin my land غيرnot مرتحِلٍdeparting
والهَمُّ حلّ بأرضي غير مرتحِلٍ
فرّتfled أرانِبُthe rabbits of خَوفيmy fear فيinto ثَناياهُits folds
فرّت أرانِبُ خَوفي في ثَناياهُ
And worry settled in my land, never departing.
And worries reside in my land with no intention to leave
The rabbits of my fear fled into its folds.
My fears’ rabbits fled in its burrows
قَدْindeed حَطّبَchopped into firewood اليأسُdespair آماليmy hopes وشَذَّبَهاand pruned them
قَدْ حَطّبَ اليأسُ آمالي وشَذَّبَها
جَدْبٌdrought هَمىrained down فيin بَراحِthe open expanse of الحُلْمِthe dream أشْقاهُmade it wretched
جَدْبٌ هَمى في بَراحِ الحُلْمِ أشْقاهُ
Despair has chopped my hopes into firewood and pruned them.
Desperation burned my hopes and shredded them
Drought rained down in the dream's open expanse, making it wretched.
A barren deprivation in the field of dreams thorned them
فَأيُّso what جَدوىgain أرومُI seek اليوْمَtoday مُبْتَهِجاًrejoicing
فَأيُّ جَدوى أرومُ اليوْمَ مُبْتَهِجاً
شُلَّwas paralyzed اليقينُcertainty وباتand became التيهbewilderment مَرْساهُits anchorage
شُلَّ اليقينُ وبات التيه مَرْساهُ
So what gain do I seek today, rejoicing?
So what’s the use if I seek bliss today
Certainty was paralyzed, and bewilderment became its anchorage.
Certainty is crippled and straying became its harbor
أموتُI die ألْفاًa thousand times وَعَينُand the eye of الحَظِّfortune تّذْرفُنيsheds me as a tear
أموتُ ألْفاً وَعَينُ الحَظِّ تّذْرفُني
والسَّعْدُand good fortune تائهُastray on دَرْبٍa road لَسْتُI am not ألْقاهُI encounter it
والسَّعْدُ تائهُ دَرْبٍ لَسْتُ ألْقاهُ
I die a thousand times, and fortune's eye sheds me.
I die a thousand times while the evil eye sheds me
And good fortune is lost on a road; I do not encounter it.
And happiness is lost on a path I did not find
بِماءِwith the water of دَمْعيmy tears أخُطُّI inscribe الأنَnow مَذْبّحتيmy slaughter
بِماءِ دَمْعي أخُطُّ الأنَ مَذْبّحتي
With the water of my tears, I now inscribe my slaughter.
With my blood’s water I outline my altar
Sol 6.1