يا ربَّةَ الشِّعرِ والأَحلام غنِّيني

يا ربَّةَ الشِّعرِ والأَحلام غنِّيني

فقد سَئِمْتُ وُجومَ الكونِ مِنْ حينِ

فقد سَئِمْتُ وُجومَ الكونِ مِنْ حينِ

O goddess of poetry and dreams, sing to me.

Oh Goddess of poetry and dreams, sing to me,

For I have long wearied of the universe’s brooding silence.

For I have long wearied of the universe's gloom.

إنَّ اللَّيالي اللَّواتي ضمَّختْ كَبِدِي

إنَّ اللَّيالي اللَّواتي ضمَّختْ كَبِدِي

بالسِّحْرِ أَضْحتْ مع الأَيَّامِ ترميني

بالسِّحْرِ أَضْحتْ مع الأَيَّامِ ترميني

Indeed, the nights that anointed my liver

The very nights that once anointed my heart

With magic now assail me as the days pass.

With magic, now join the days in striking me down.

نَاختْ بنفسي مآسيها وما وَجَدَتْ

نَاختْ بنفسي مآسيها وما وَجَدَتْ

قلباً عطوفاً يُسَلِّيها فَعَزِّيني

قلباً عطوفاً يُسَلِّيها فَعَزِّيني

Their tragedies settled upon my soul, and it found no

Tragedies weigh heavy upon my soul, finding there

Tender heart to console it—so comfort me.

No tender heart to cheer it, so console me.

وهدَّ مِنْ خَلَدِي نَوْحٌ تُرَجِّعُهُ

وهدَّ مِنْ خَلَدِي نَوْحٌ تُرَجِّعُهُ

بَلْوَى الحَيَاةِ وأَحزانُ المَسَاكينِ

بَلْوَى الحَيَاةِ وأَحزانُ المَسَاكينِ

And a lament wore down my spirit, echoed by

My spirit is broken by a wailing echoed by

Life’s affliction and the sorrows of the poor.

The affliction of life and the sorrows of the poor.

على الحَيَاةِ أَنا أَبكي لشَقْوَتِها

على الحَيَاةِ أَنا أَبكي لشَقْوَتِها

فمنْ إِذا مُتُّ يبكيها ويبكيني

فمنْ إِذا مُتُّ يبكيها ويبكيني

I weep for life, for its misery;

I weep for life because of its misery,

So who, if I die, will weep for it and for me?

For who, when I die, will weep for it and for me?

يا رَبَّةَ الشِّعْرِ غنِّيني فقد ضَجِرَتْ

يا رَبَّةَ الشِّعْرِ غنِّيني فقد ضَجِرَتْ

نفسي منَ النَّاسِ أبناءِ الشَّياطينِ

نفسي منَ النَّاسِ أبناءِ الشَّياطينِ

O goddess of poetry, sing to me, for weary has grown

Oh Goddess of poetry, sing to me, for my soul has tired

My soul of people, the children of devils.

Of mankind, these children of demons.

تَبَرَّمَتْ بينيَ الدُّنيا وأَعوَزَها

تَبَرَّمَتْ بينيَ الدُّنيا وأَعوَزَها

في مِعزفِ الدَّهرِ غرِّيدُ الأَرانينِ

في مِعزفِ الدَّهرِ غرِّيدُ الأَرانينِ

The world grew weary [of me], and lacked

The world has scowled at me, and lacks

In time’s instrument, a sweet-voiced singer of ringing notes.

Upon the lyre of fate, a singer of sweet tunes.

وراحَةُ اللَّيلِ ملأَى مِنْ مدامِعِهِ

وراحَةُ اللَّيلِ ملأَى مِنْ مدامِعِهِ

وغادَةُ الحبِّ ثَكْلى لا تغنِّيني

وغادَةُ الحبِّ ثَكْلى لا تغنِّيني

And night’s palm is filled with its tears,

The palm of the night is filled with its tears,

And love’s maiden is bereaved and does not sing to me.

And the maiden of love is bereaved, singing not to me.

فهلْ إِذا لُذْتُ بالظَّلماءِ مُنْتَحِباً

فهلْ إِذا لُذْتُ بالظَّلماءِ مُنْتَحِباً

أَسلو وما نَفْعُ محْزونٍ لمحزونِ

أَسلو وما نَفْعُ محْزونٍ لمحزونِ

So, if I seek refuge in darkness, sobbing,

If I seek shelter in the darkness, weeping,

Will I find solace? And what help is one sorrowing soul to another?

Will I find peace? What aid can a sad soul give the sad?

يا ربَّةَ الشِّعرِ إنِّي بائسٌ تَعِسٌ

يا ربَّةَ الشِّعرِ إنِّي بائسٌ تَعِسٌ

عَدِمْتُ مَا أَرتجي في العالمِ الدُّونِ

عَدِمْتُ مَا أَرتجي في العالمِ الدُّونِ

O goddess of poetry, I am wretched and ill-fated;

Oh Goddess of poetry, I am wretched and miserable,

I lack what I hope for in this base world.

I have lost all I hope for in this base world.

وفي يديكِ مزاميرٌ يُخالِجُها

وفي يديكِ مزاميرٌ يُخالِجُها

وَحْيُ السَّماءِ فهاتيها وغَنِّيني

وَحْيُ السَّماءِ فهاتيها وغَنِّيني

And in your hands are flutes stirred by

Yet in your hands are psalms stirred by

Heaven’s inspiration—so bring them and sing to me.

The revelation of heaven, so bring them and sing to me.

ورتِّلي حولَ بيتِ الحُزْنِ أُغنيةً

ورتِّلي حولَ بيتِ الحُزْنِ أُغنيةً

تجلُو عن النَّفسِ أَحوانَ الأَحايينِ

تجلُو عن النَّفسِ أَحوانَ الأَحايينِ

And chant around the house of grief a song

And chant around the house of sorrow a song

That clears from the soul the [sorrows] of passing times.

That clears from the soul the trials of the times.

فإنَّ قلبيَ قبرٌ مُظلمٌ قُبِرَتْ

فإنَّ قلبيَ قبرٌ مُظلمٌ قُبِرَتْ

فيهِ الأَماني فما عادتْ تناغيني

فيهِ الأَماني فما عادتْ تناغيني

For my heart is a dark grave; buried

For my heart is a dark grave in which are buried

Within it are hopes that no longer coo to me.

My hopes, which no longer sing to me.

لولاكِ في هذه الدُّنيا لمَا لَمَسَتْ

لولاكِ في هذه الدُّنيا لمَا لَمَسَتْ

أَوتارُ روحِيَ أَصواتَ الأَفانينِ

أَوتارُ روحِيَ أَصواتَ الأَفانينِ

Were it not for you in this world, never would

Were it not for you in this world, never would

My soul’s strings have touched the sounds of varied arts.

The strings of my spirit touch the voices of art.

ولا تَغَنَّيْتُ مأخوذاً ولا عَذُبَتْ

ولا تَغَنَّيْتُ مأخوذاً ولا عَذُبَتْ

ليَ الحَيَاةُ لدى غَضِّ الرَّياحينِ

ليَ الحَيَاةُ لدى غَضِّ الرَّياحينِ

Nor would I have sung, entranced, nor would

Nor would I have sung, enraptured, nor would

Life have been sweet to me amid fresh, fragrant herbs.

Life be sweet to me amidst the fresh blooms.

ولا ازدهى النَّفْسَ في أَشْجانها شَفَقٌ

ولا ازدهى النَّفْسَ في أَشْجانها شَفَقٌ

يُلوِّنُ الغَيْمَ لهواً أَيَّ تلوينِ

يُلوِّنُ الغَيْمَ لهواً أَيَّ تلوينِ

Nor would twilight’s glow have enchanted my soul amid its sorrows,

Nor would the twilight cheer my soul in its sadness,

Playfully coloring the clouds—what wondrous coloring!

Painting the clouds in playful, vibrant hues.

ولا استخفَّ حياتي وهيَ هائمةٌ

ولا استخفَّ حياتي وهيَ هائمةٌ

فجرُ الهَوَى في جفونِ الخُرَّدِ العِينِ

فجرُ الهَوَى في جفونِ الخُرَّدِ العِينِ

Nor would my life, while wandering, have been enraptured

Nor would the dawn of love thrill my wandering life

By love’s dawn in the eyelids of shy, wide-eyed maidens.

Within the eyelids of wide-eyed beauties.