ياO شعرpoetry أثخنّاكَwe sorely afflicted you بالعلَلِwith ailments
يا شعر أثخنّاكَ بالعلَلِ
قَدindeed كُنتَyou were قَبلاًformerly باهيَresplendent in الحُلَلِrobes
قَد كُنتَ قَبلاً باهيَ الحُلَلِ
O poetry, we have sorely afflicted you with ailments.
O poetry, we have burdened you with afflictions,
Once you were resplendent in your robes.
Once you were beautifully adorned.
ماno longer عُدتَyou are بالأمْجادِwith glories مُبتَهِلاًpraying fervently
ما عُدتَ بالأمْجادِ مُبتَهِلاً
فالقومُfor the people قَدindeed زَجّوكَthey thrust you فيinto الوجلِdread
فالقومُ قَد زَجّوكَ في الوجلِ
You no longer invoke glories in prayer,
You no longer plead for glories,
for the people have thrust you into dread.
As the people have pushed you into the mud.
ماnot كَرَّcharged قوميmy people إنماonly أفَلواthey faded away
ما كَرَّ قومي إنما أفَلوا
لاno عِزَّhonor للفُرّارِfor those who flee فيin الوَهَلِpanic
لا عِزَّ للفُرّارِ في الوَهَلِ
My people did not charge; they merely faded away.
It is not my people's fault, they just declined,
There is no honor for those who flee in panic.
No honor for deserters in panic.
المطلعُthe opening verse الشِّعريُّpoetic بلَّلَهُwetted it
المطلعُ الشِّعريُّ بلَّلَهُ
دمعُtears الجوىof heartache منfrom محْجِرthe socket المُقَلِof the eyes
دمعُ الجوى من محْجِر المُقَلِ
The poem's opening has been drenched
The poetic spring, tears of longing
by tears of heartache from the sockets of the eyes.
Have moistened it from the eye's tear duct.
قدindeed نالتِhave reached الأسيافُthe swords مغْرزَهاtheir place of penetration
قد نالتِ الأسيافُ مغْرزَها
ودمُand the blood القوافيof rhymes سالَflowed عَنْfrom أسَلِspearpoints
ودمُ القوافي سالَ عَنْ أسَلِ
The swords have reached their mark,
The swords have attained their sheaths,
and the blood of rhymes has flowed from spearpoints.
And the blood of rhymes has flowed from their wounds.
ورويُّكَand your rhyme-letter العَطشانthirsty أثْقَلَهُweighed it down
ورويُّكَ العَطشان أثْقَلَهُ
نَوْحٌlamentation علىover ماwhat ظَلّremained منof طَلَلِruins
نَوْحٌ على ما ظَلّ من طَلَلِ
And your thirsty rhyme-letter has been weighed down
Your thirsty stream, weighted down
by lament over what was left of ruins.
By a lament for what was lost from the ruins.
الصَّدْرُthe breast (first hemistich) ضَجَّcried out مِنَfrom الهُمومِcares وماand not
الصَّدْرُ ضَجَّ مِنَ الهُمومِ وما
داواهُhealed it عَجْزٌhelplessness (second-hemistich pun) قُدَّwas cut منfrom شللِparalysis
داواهُ عَجْزٌ قُدَّ من شللِ
The verse's breast cried out with cares, and no
My chest rattled with worries, not cured
helpless second half, cut from paralysis, healed it.
By the weakness poured from paralysis.
إنّاindeed, we خذلناwe let down الشعرَpoetry منfor زمنٍsome time
إنّا خذلنا الشعرَ من زمنٍ
كَمْhow many منof قصيدٍpoems قيلَwere uttered فيin الَعذَلِreproach
كَمْ من قصيدٍ قيلَ في الَعذَلِ
Indeed, we have long let poetry down.
We have forsaken poetry for a time,
How many poems have been uttered in reproach!
So many poems were composed in futility.
بالعشقِwith passion عمَّدناهُwe baptized it منتصراًtriumphant
بالعشقِ عمَّدناهُ منتصراً
بالحبّwith love "رقَّصْناهُwe made it dance " بالزّجَلِto sung vernacular verse
بالحبّ "رقَّصْناهُ " بالزّجَلِ
With passion we baptized it, triumphant;
With passion we made it victorious,
with love we "made it dance" to zajal.
With love "we made it dance", with folk songs.
ومَرارُand the bitterness لاno جدوىbenefit نُقطِّرُهُwe distill it
ومَرارُ لا جدوى نُقطِّرُهُ
فيinto جُبةِthe robe الأشعارِof poems كالوَشَلِlike a trickle
في جُبةِ الأشعارِ كالوَشَلِ
And we distill the bitterness of futility
But bitterness is useless to filter it
into the robe of poems, like a trickle.
In the clothes of poems, like tatters.
قدindeed كنتَyou were صوتاًa voice صادِحاًringing out طرِبًاjoyous
قد كنتَ صوتاً صادِحاً طرِبًا
واليومand today مَدحوراًcast down إلىinto الزّلَلِerror
واليوم مَدحوراً إلى الزّلَلِ
Once you were a ringing, joyous voice,
You were once a heartening, thrilling voice
and today you are cast down into error.
And today, banished to the shadows.
ياO شِعرُpoetry أرهَقْناكَwe exhausted you مَعْذِرَةًan apology
يا شِعرُ أرهَقْناكَ مَعْذِرَةً
قُدْناكَwe led you مَأسوراًcaptive إلىinto الدَّغَلِthe thicket
قُدْناكَ مَأسوراً إلى الدَّغَلِ
O poetry, we have exhausted you—forgive us.
O poetry, we have overburdened you, forgive us,
We led you captive into the thicket.
We have led you captive into corruption.
إنّindeed الّذينَthose who "تَشَعْوراthey posed as poets" فَجَرواthey transgressed
إنّ الّذينَ "تَشَعْورا" فَجَروا
نَقَعواthey steeped الكلامَwords بِمَنْقَعِin a soaking pool الخَطَلِof nonsense
نَقَعوا الكلامَ بِمَنْقَعِ الخَطَلِ
Indeed, those who "posed as poets" transgressed;
Those who ignited "awakening", spilled
they steeped words in a pool of nonsense.
Words into the basin of nonsense.
Sol 6.1