أَطَلَّتِpeered out الْآلَامُpains مِنْfrom جُحْرِهِhis hole
أَطَلَّتِ الْآلَامُ مِنْ جُحْرِهِ
وَلُفَّتِand were wrapped الْأَسْقَامُsicknesses فِيin طِمْرِهِhis rag
وَلُفَّتِ الْأَسْقَامُ فِي طِمْرِهِ
Pains peer out from his hole,
And sicknesses are wrapped within his rag.
بُرْدَتُهُhis cloak اللَّيْلُthe night، عَلَىdespite بَرْدِهِits cold
بُرْدَتُهُ اللَّيْلُ، عَلَى بَرْدِهِ
وَكِنُّهُand his shelter الْقَيْظُsummer heat، عَلَىdespite حَرِّهِits heat
وَكِنُّهُ الْقَيْظُ، عَلَى حَرِّهِ
Night is his cloak, cold as it is,
And summer heat his shelter, hot as it is.
مُشَرَّدٌan outcast يَأْوِيtakes refuge إِلَىin هَمِّهِhis sorrow
مُشَرَّدٌ يَأْوِي إِلَى هَمِّهِ
إِذَاwhen أَوَىtakes refuge الطَّيْرُthe bird إِلَىin وَكْرِهِits nest!
إِذَا أَوَى الطَّيْرُ إِلَى وَكْرِهِ!
An outcast, he takes refuge in his sorrow
When birds take refuge in their nests.
مَاnever ذَاقَtasted حُلْوَthe sweetness of اللَّثْمِkissing فِيon خَدِّهِhis cheek
مَا ذَاقَ حُلْوَ اللَّثْمِ فِي خَدِّهِ
وَلَاnor حَنَانَthe tenderness of الْمَسِّtouch فِيin شَعْرِهِhis hair
وَلَا حَنَانَ الْمَسِّ فِي شَعْرِهِ
He has never tasted sweet kisses on his cheek,
Nor a tender touch upon his hair.
وَلَاnor حَوَتْهُembraced him الْأُمُّthe mother فِيin صَدْرِهَاher breast
وَلَا حَوَتْهُ الْأُمُّ فِي صَدْرِهَا
وَلَاnor أَبٌa father نَاغَاهُcooed to him فِيin حِجْرِهِhis lap
وَلَا أَبٌ نَاغَاهُ فِي حِجْرِهِ
No mother has clasped him to her breast,
Nor father cooed to him upon his lap.
قَدْindeed صَبَرَmade endure النَّفْسَhis soul عَلَىthrough مَاwhat بِهَاafflicts it
قَدْ صَبَرَ النَّفْسَ عَلَى مَا بِهَا
وَانْتَظَرَand awaited الْمَوْعُودَthe promised reward مِنْfrom صَبْرِهِhis patience
وَانْتَظَرَ الْمَوْعُودَ مِنْ صَبْرِهِ
He has schooled his soul to bear its suffering
And awaited the promised reward of patience.
الْبَطْنُthe belly مَهْضُومٌsunken، طَوَاهُfolded it الطَّوَىhunger
الْبَطْنُ مَهْضُومٌ، طَوَاهُ الطَّوَى
وَنَامَand slept أَهْلُthe people of الْأَرْضِthe earth عَنْheedless of نَشْرِهِunfolding it
وَنَامَ أَهْلُ الْأَرْضِ عَنْ نَشْرِهِ
His belly is sunken, folded in by hunger,
And earth's people slept, heedless of unfolding it.
وَالْوَجْهُand the face لِلْيَأْسِof despair بِهِupon it نَظْرَةٌa look
وَالْوَجْهُ لِلْيَأْسِ بِهِ نَظْرَةٌ
يَقْذِفُهَاhurls it الْحِقْدُhatred عَلَىagainst دَهْرِهِhis times
يَقْذِفُهَا الْحِقْدُ عَلَى دَهْرِهِ
Upon his face despair has set a look
That hatred hurls against his times.
جَرَّحَهُgashed him الدَّهْرُTime، فَمِنْfor from نَابِهِits fang
جَرَّحَهُ الدَّهْرُ، فَمِنْ نَابِهِ
تِلْكَthose الْأَخَادِيدُfurrows، وَمِنْand from ظُفْرِهِits claw
تِلْكَ الْأَخَادِيدُ، وَمِنْ ظُفْرِهِ
Time has gashed him; from its fang
Come those furrows, and from its claw.
قَدْindeed كَتَبَhas written اللهُGod عَلَىupon خَدِّهِhis cheek
قَدْ كَتَبَ اللهُ عَلَى خَدِّهِ
خَطًّاa script يَبِينُis revealed الْبُؤْسُmisery فِيin سَطْرِهِits line
خَطًّا يَبِينُ الْبُؤْسُ فِي سَطْرِهِ
God has written upon his cheek
A script whose line reveals his misery.
وَغَارَand receded ضَوْءُthe light of الْحِسِّfeeling مِنْfrom عَيْنِهِhis eye
وَغَارَ ضَوْءُ الْحِسِّ مِنْ عَيْنِهِ
وَفَرَّand fled لَمْحُthe gleam of الْأُنْسِfriendliness مِنْfrom ثَغْرِهِhis lips
وَفَرَّ لَمْحُ الْأُنْسِ مِنْ ثَغْرِهِ
The light of feeling has receded from his eye,
And the gleam of friendliness has fled his lips.
وَالْبِشْرُand cheer، أَيْنَwhere الْبِشْرُcheer؟ وَيْحِيalas for me لَهُfor him!
وَالْبِشْرُ، أَيْنَ الْبِشْرُ؟ وَيْحِي لَهُ!
يَاO رَحْمَةَthe mercy of اللهِGod عَلَىupon بِشْرِهِhis cheer
يَا رَحْمَةَ اللهِ عَلَى بِشْرِهِ
And cheer—where is cheer? Alas for him!
God have mercy on his cheer!
يَجُرُّhe drags رِجْلَيْهِhis feet بَطِيءَslow of الْخُطَىstep
يَجُرُّ رِجْلَيْهِ بَطِيءَ الْخُطَى
كَالْجُعَلِlike the dung beetle الْمَكْدُودِexhausted مِنْfrom جَرِّهِits dragging
كَالْجُعَلِ الْمَكْدُودِ مِنْ جَرِّهِ
He drags his feet with sluggish steps,
Like a dung beetle exhausted by its dragging.
إِنْif نَامَhe sleeps أَبْصَرْتَyou see بِهِin him كُتْلَةًa huddled mass
إِنْ نَامَ أَبْصَرْتَ بِهِ كُتْلَةً
تَجْمَعُdrawing سَاقَيْهِhis shins إِلَىto نَحْرِهِhis throat
تَجْمَعُ سَاقَيْهِ إِلَى نَحْرِهِ
When he sleeps, you see in him a huddled mass,
Drawing his shins up to his throat.
احْتَبَسَتْwas imprisoned «أَوَّاهُhis “Ah!”» فِيin قَلْبِهِhis heart
احْتَبَسَتْ «أَوَّاهُ» فِي قَلْبِهِ
وَاخْتَنَقَتْand was strangled «وَيْلَاهُhis “Woe is me!”» فِيin صَدْرِهِhis breast
وَاخْتَنَقَتْ «وَيْلَاهُ» فِي صَدْرِهِ
His “Ah!” is imprisoned in his heart,
And his “Woe is me!” is strangled in his breast.
وَجَفَّand dried مَاءُthe water of الْعَيْنِthe eye فِيin مُوقِهَاits inner corner
وَجَفَّ مَاءُ الْعَيْنِ فِي مُوقِهَا
مَاذَاwhat أَفَادَdid it gain الْعَيْنَthe eye مِنْfrom هَمْرِهِits pouring؟
مَاذَا أَفَادَ الْعَيْنَ مِنْ هَمْرِهِ؟
The eye's water has dried in its corner;
What did its pouring gain the eye?
سَالَتْit flowed بِهِwith it نَهْرًاas a river عَلَىfor لُقْمَةٍa morsel
سَالَتْ بِهِ نَهْرًا عَلَى لُقْمَةٍ
فَعَادَso it returned كَالسَّائِلِlike the beggar فِيin نَهْرِهِhis rebuff!
فَعَادَ كَالسَّائِلِ فِي نَهْرِهِ!
It poured a river of tears for a morsel,
And returned, like the beggar, rebuffed.
لَاnot يَجِدُhe finds الْمَأْوَىshelter، وَلَوْand even if رَامَهُhe sought it
لَا يَجِدُ الْمَأْوَى، وَلَوْ رَامَهُ
أَحَالَهُreferred him الدَّهْرُTime عَلَىto قَبْرِهِhis grave
أَحَالَهُ الدَّهْرُ عَلَى قَبْرِهِ
He finds no shelter; should he seek it,
Time directs him to his grave.
هُنَاكَthere يَثْوِيhe rests هَادِئًاquiet آمِنًاsafe
هُنَاكَ يَثْوِي هَادِئًا آمِنًا
مِنْfrom شَظَفِthe privation of الْعَيْشِlife وَمِنْand from وَعْرِهِits roughness
مِنْ شَظَفِ الْعَيْشِ وَمِنْ وَعْرِهِ
There he rests, quiet and safe
From life's privation and its roughness.
فَكَمْhow many بِصَدْرِin the embrace of الْقَبْرِthe grave مِنْof ضَجْعَةٍa resting-place
فَكَمْ بِصَدْرِ الْقَبْرِ مِنْ ضَجْعَةٍ
أَحْنَىkinder مِنَthan الدَّهْرِTime وَمِنْand than نُكْرِهِits cruelty!
أَحْنَى مِنَ الدَّهْرِ وَمِنْ نُكْرِهِ!
How many a resting-place in the grave's embrace
Is kinder than Time and its cruelty!
مَتْعَبَةُthe weariness of الْإِنْسَانِman فِيin حِسِّهِhis sensitivity
مَتْعَبَةُ الْإِنْسَانِ فِي حِسِّهِ
وَشِقْوَةُand the unhappiness of الْإِنْسَانِman مِنْfrom فِكْرِهِhis thought
وَشِقْوَةُ الْإِنْسَانِ مِنْ فِكْرِهِ
Man's weariness lies in his sensitivity,
And man's unhappiness springs from his thought.
كَيْفَhow يُرَجَّىcan be hoped for الصَّفْوُserenity مِنْfrom كَائِنٍa being
كَيْفَ يُرَجَّى الصَّفْوُ مِنْ كَائِنٍ
الْحَمَأُdark mud الْمَسْنُونُputrid فِيin ذَرِّهِhis makeup؟
الْحَمَأُ الْمَسْنُونُ فِي ذَرِّهِ؟
How can serenity be hoped for from a being
With dark, putrid mud in his very makeup?
لَمْnot يَسْمُhe rose لِلْأَمْلَاكِto the angels فِيin أَوْجِهَاtheir heights
لَمْ يَسْمُ لِلْأَمْلَاكِ فِي أَوْجِهَا
وَلَاnor هَوَىfell لِلْوَحْشِto the beasts فِيin قَفْرِهِtheir wilderness
وَلَا هَوَى لِلْوَحْشِ فِي قَفْرِهِ
He has not risen to the angels in their heights,
Nor fallen to the beasts in their wilderness.
رَامَhe sought اللُّبَابَthe kernel الْمَحْضَpure مِنْfrom سَعْيِهِhis striving
رَامَ اللُّبَابَ الْمَحْضَ مِنْ سَعْيِهِ
فَلَمْbut not يَنَلْhe gained مِنْهُfrom it سِوَىexcept قِشْرِهِits husk
فَلَمْ يَنَلْ مِنْهُ سِوَى قِشْرِهِ
He sought the pure kernel of his striving,
But gained from it nothing but its husk.
يَسْعَىhe strives، وَمَاand not يَدْرِيknows إِلَىtoward نَفْعِهِhis benefit
يَسْعَى، وَمَا يَدْرِي إِلَى نَفْعِهِ
سَعَىhe hastened حَثِيثًاswiftly، أَمْor إِلَىtoward ضَرِّهِhis harm
سَعَى حَثِيثًا، أَمْ إِلَى ضَرِّهِ
He strives, not knowing whether toward his good
He hastens, or toward his harm.
آمَنْتُI believe بِاللهِin God! فَكَمْfor how many عَالِمٍa scholar
آمَنْتُ بِاللهِ! فَكَمْ عَالِمٍ
أَعْجَزَهُbaffled him الْمَحْجُوبُthe hidden مِنْof سِرِّهِHis mystery
أَعْجَزَهُ الْمَحْجُوبُ مِنْ سِرِّهِ
I believe in God! How many a scholar
Has been baffled by the hidden depths of His mystery!
اللهَfear God فِيconcerning طِفْلٍa child غَزَاهُassailed him الضَّنَىwasting sickness
اللهَ فِي طِفْلٍ غَزَاهُ الضَّنَى
بِأَدْهَمِwith the blackest الْخَطْبِcalamity وَمُغْبَرِّهِand its dust-darkness
بِأَدْهَمِ الْخَطْبِ وَمُغْبَرِّهِ
Fear God for a child whom wasting sickness has assailed
With calamity, black and dust-clouded.
فِيin ظُلُمَاتٍdarkness، مَوْجُهَاits waves زَاخِرٌsurging
فِي ظُلُمَاتٍ، مَوْجُهَا زَاخِرٌ
كَأَنَّهُas though he were ذُوthe Man of النُّونِthe Fish فِيin بَحْرِهِhis sea
كَأَنَّهُ ذُو النُّونِ فِي بَحْرِهِ
In darkness whose waves surge high,
As though he were the Man of the Fish in his sea.
وَالنَّاسُand the people بِالشَّاطِئِon the shore، مِنْsome غَافِلٍheedless
وَالنَّاسُ بِالشَّاطِئِ، مِنْ غَافِلٍ
أَوْor سَاخِرٍmocking، أَمْعَنَpersisted فِيin سُخْرِهِhis mockery
أَوْ سَاخِرٍ، أَمْعَنَ فِي سُخْرِهِ
And the people on shore: some heedless,
Or mocking, relentless in their mockery.
وَالْمَوْجُand the waves كَالذُّؤْبَانِlike wolves حَوْلَaround الْفَتَىthe boy
وَالْمَوْجُ كَالذُّؤْبَانِ حَوْلَ الْفَتَى
يَسُدُّdeafens أُذْنَthe ear of الْأُفْقِthe horizon مِنْwith زَأْرِهِits roar
يَسُدُّ أُذْنَ الْأُفْقِ مِنْ زَأْرِهِ
The waves are like wolves around the boy,
Deafening the horizon's ear with their roar.
نَادَىhe called، وَمَاand not نَادَىcalled سِوَىexcept مَرَّةٍonce
نَادَى، وَمَا نَادَى سِوَى مَرَّةٍ
حَتَّىuntil طَوَاهُenfolded him الْيَمُّthe sea فِيin غَمْرِهِits depths
حَتَّى طَوَاهُ الْيَمُّ فِي غَمْرِهِ
He cried out—he cried out only once—
Before the sea enfolded him in its depths.
تَظُنُّهُyou think him طِفْلًاa child، فَإِنْbut if حَقَّقَتْlooked closely
تَظُنُّهُ طِفْلًا، فَإِنْ حَقَّقَتْ
عَيْنَاكَyour eyes، لَمْnot تَعْثُرْyou would find عَلَىupon عُشْرِهِa tenth of him
عَيْنَاكَ، لَمْ تَعْثُرْ عَلَى عُشْرِهِ
You think him a child; but on close scrutiny,
Your eyes will not find a tenth of one.
كَأَنَّهُas though he were الشَّكُّdoubt إِذَاwhen مَاever مَشَىhe walks
كَأَنَّهُ الشَّكُّ إِذَا مَا مَشَى
أَوْor مَاwhat يَرَىsees النَّائِمُthe sleeper فِيin ذُعْرِهِhis terror
أَوْ مَا يَرَى النَّائِمُ فِي ذُعْرِهِ
He is like doubt itself when he walks,
Or what a sleeper sees in terror.
طَغَىran rampant بِهِin him الْجُوعُhunger، فَفِيso in دَمْعِهِhis tears
طَغَى بِهِ الْجُوعُ، فَفِي دَمْعِهِ
مَاwhat فَعَلَhas done الْجُوعُhunger، وَفِيand in نَبْرِهِhis tone
مَا فَعَلَ الْجُوعُ، وَفِي نَبْرِهِ
Hunger has ravaged him; in his tears
And in his voice lies what hunger has done.
وَاهًاalas لِكَفٍّfor a hand لَصِقَتْclung بِالثَّرَىto the earth
وَاهًا لِكَفٍّ لَصِقَتْ بِالثَّرَى
وَائْتَدَمَتْand took as relish بِالْبُؤْسِin misery مِنْfrom عَفْرِهِits dust
وَائْتَدَمَتْ بِالْبُؤْسِ مِنْ عَفْرِهِ
Alas for a hand that has clung to the earth,
And, in misery, taken its dust for relish!
مَاذَاwhat burden عَلَىupon الْإِحْسَانِcharity لَوْif رَدَّهَاit sent it back
مَاذَا عَلَى الْإِحْسَانِ لَوْ رَدَّهَا
نَدِيَّةَdewy الْأَطْرَافِat the fingertips مِنْfrom بِرِّهِits kindness؟
نَدِيَّةَ الْأَطْرَافِ مِنْ بِرِّهِ؟
What would charity lose by sending it back
With fingertips dewy from its kindness?
مَاذَاwhat burden عَلَىupon الْإِحْسَانِcharity لَوْif رَدَّهَاit sent it back
مَاذَا عَلَى الْإِحْسَانِ لَوْ رَدَّهَا
رَطِيبَةَmoist الْأَلْسُنِof tongues مِنْfrom شُكْرِهِthanking it؟
رَطِيبَةَ الْأَلْسُنِ مِنْ شُكْرِهِ؟
What would charity lose by sending it back
With tongues moist with thanks for its kindness?
كَمْhow many بَسْمَةٍa smile أَرْسَلَهَاbestowed it مُحْسِنٌa benefactor
كَمْ بَسْمَةٍ أَرْسَلَهَا مُحْسِنٌ
أَزْهَىlovelier مِنَthan الرَّوْضِthe garden وَمِنْand than زَهْرِهِits flowers!
أَزْهَى مِنَ الرَّوْضِ وَمِنْ زَهْرِهِ!
How many a smile bestowed by a benefactor
Is lovelier than the garden and its flowers!
وَلُقْمَةٍand a morsel سَدَّتْstilled فَمًاa mouth جَائِعًاhungry
وَلُقْمَةٍ سَدَّتْ فَمًا جَائِعًا
رَجَّحَتِtipped الْمِيزَانَthe balance فِيat حَشْرِهِhis resurrection!
رَجَّحَتِ الْمِيزَانَ فِي حَشْرِهِ!
And many a morsel that stilled a hungry mouth
Has tipped the balance at his resurrection!
وَمِنَّةٍand a kindness كَانَتْbecame جَنَاحًاa wing لَهُfor him
وَمِنَّةٍ كَانَتْ جَنَاحًا لَهُ
طَارَflew بِهِon it الذَّائِعُthe widespread مِنْof ذِكْرِهِhis renown
طَارَ بِهِ الذَّائِعُ مِنْ ذِكْرِهِ
And many a kindness became his wing,
On which his widespread renown took flight.
وَدَمْعَةٍand a tear يُذْرِفُهَاhe sheds it مُشْفِقًاcompassionately
وَدَمْعَةٍ يُذْرِفُهَا مُشْفِقًا
أَصْفَىpurer مِنَthan الْمَدْخُورِthe hoarded مِنْof دُرِّهِhis pearls
أَصْفَى مِنَ الْمَدْخُورِ مِنْ دُرِّهِ
And many a tear he sheds in compassion
Is purer than the pearls he hoards.
لَاnot تُزْهِرُblossoms الْجَنَّةُParadise إِلَّاexcept بِمَاthrough what
لَا تُزْهِرُ الْجَنَّةُ إِلَّا بِمَا
يَسْفَحُهُhe pours it الْبَاكِيthe weeper عَلَىover وِزْرِهِhis sin
يَسْفَحُهُ الْبَاكِي عَلَى وِزْرِهِ
Paradise blossoms only through what
The weeper pours over his sin.
لَوْif عَرَفَknew الْإِنْسَانُman مَاwhat أَجْرُهُhis reward
لَوْ عَرَفَ الْإِنْسَانُ مَا أَجْرُهُ
مَاnot ضَنَّhe would begrudge بِالنَّفْسِhis life عَلَىfor أَجْرِهِhis reward
مَا ضَنَّ بِالنَّفْسِ عَلَى أَجْرِهِ
If man knew what his reward would be,
He would not begrudge his very life to earn it.
يَبْقَىremains قَلِيلُa little الْمَالِwealth مِنْfrom بَعْدِهِafter him
يَبْقَى قَلِيلُ الْمَالِ مِنْ بَعْدِهِ
وَيَذْهَبُand passes away الْمَالُwealth عَلَىdespite كُثْرِهِits abundance
وَيَذْهَبُ الْمَالُ عَلَى كُثْرِهِ
A little wealth endures after him,
While wealth, for all its abundance, passes away.
بِيضُwhite أَيَادِيhands الْمَرْءِof a man فِيamong قَوْمِهِhis people
بِيضُ أَيَادِي الْمَرْءِ فِي قَوْمِهِ
أَغْلَىmore precious مِنَthan الْبِيضِsilver coins وَمِنْand than صُفْرِهِhis gold coins
أَغْلَى مِنَ الْبِيضِ وَمِنْ صُفْرِهِ
A man's white-handed kindness among his people
Is worth more than silver and his gold.
وَالْحُرُّand the noble man، لَاnot يَنْعَمُenjoys فِيin وَفْرِهِhis abundance
وَالْحُرُّ، لَا يَنْعَمُ فِي وَفْرِهِ
حَتَّىuntil يَنَالَreceive النَّاسُthe people مِنْfrom وَفْرِهِhis abundance
حَتَّى يَنَالَ النَّاسُ مِنْ وَفْرِهِ
The noble man finds no joy in his abundance
Until the people share in his abundance.
وَالْمَرْءُand a man، لَاnot يُعْرَفُis known مِقْدَارُهُhis true measure
وَالْمَرْءُ، لَا يُعْرَفُ مِقْدَارُهُ
أَوْuntil تُنْبِئُreveal الْأَحْدَاثُevents عَنْabout قَدْرِهِhis worth
أَوْ تُنْبِئُ الْأَحْدَاثُ عَنْ قَدْرِهِ
And a man's true measure is not known
Until events reveal his worth.
وَالنَّاسُand people كَالْمَاءِlike water، فَمِنْso some are ضَحْضَحٍshallow
وَالنَّاسُ كَالْمَاءِ، فَمِنْ ضَحْضَحٍ
وَمِنْand some are عَمِيقٍdeep، حِرْتُI was baffled فِيin سَبْرِهِfathoming it
وَمِنْ عَمِيقٍ، حِرْتُ فِي سَبْرِهِ
And people are like water: some are shallow,
And some so deep I am baffled to sound them.
لَيْسَis not الَّذِيthe one who يُنْفِقُspends مِنْfrom يُسْرِهِhis affluence
لَيْسَ الَّذِي يُنْفِقُ مِنْ يُسْرِهِ
مِثْلَlike الَّذِيthe one who يُنْفِقُspends مِنْfrom عُسْرِهِhis hardship
مِثْلَ الَّذِي يُنْفِقُ مِنْ عُسْرِهِ
One who spends out of his affluence is not
Like one who spends out of his hardship.
كَمْhow many دِرْهَمٍa dirham أُلْقِيَwas cast فِيinto سِجْنِهِits prison
كَمْ دِرْهَمٍ أُلْقِيَ فِي سِجْنِهِ
وَلَمْand not يَنَلْit obtained عَفْوًاpardon مَدَىthroughout عُمْرِهِits life!
وَلَمْ يَنَلْ عَفْوًا مَدَى عُمْرِهِ!
How many a dirham has been cast into its prison
And never granted pardon throughout its life!
لَمْnot يَرَit saw حُسْنَthe beauty of الصُّبْحِmorning فِيin شَمْسِهِits sun
لَمْ يَرَ حُسْنَ الصُّبْحِ فِي شَمْسِهِ
وَلَاnor جَمَالَthe loveliness of اللَّيْلِnight فِيin بَدْرِهِits full moon
وَلَا جَمَالَ اللَّيْلِ فِي بَدْرِهِ
It has never seen morning's beauty in its sun,
Nor night's loveliness in its full moon.
يَطْمَعُlongs وَخْزُthe pang of الْجُوعِhunger فِيfor وَصْلِهِreaching it
يَطْمَعُ وَخْزُ الْجُوعِ فِي وَصْلِهِ
وَيُرْسِلُand sends out الزَّفْرَاتِsighs مِنْfrom هَجْرِهِits estrangement
وَيُرْسِلُ الزَّفْرَاتِ مِنْ هَجْرِهِ
The pang of hunger longs to reach it,
And sends up sighs at being kept from it.
وَالْمَالُand wealth كَالْخَمْرِlike wine، إِذَاwhen مَاever طَغَىit runs rampant
وَالْمَالُ كَالْخَمْرِ، إِذَا مَا طَغَى
ضَاقَتْbecame too narrow فِجَاجُthe broad roads of الْأَرْضِthe earth عَنْfor شَرِّهِits evil
ضَاقَتْ فِجَاجُ الْأَرْضِ عَنْ شَرِّهِ
And wealth is like wine: whenever it runs rampant,
Earth's broad roads cannot contain its evil.
مَتَىwhen يَهُبُّawakens الْعَقْلُreason مِنْfrom نَوْمِهِits sleep
مَتَى يَهُبُّ الْعَقْلُ مِنْ نَوْمِهِ
أَوْor يَسْتَفِيقُrecovers الْمَالُwealth مِنْfrom سُكْرِهِits drunkenness؟
أَوْ يَسْتَفِيقُ الْمَالُ مِنْ سُكْرِهِ؟
When will reason awaken from its sleep,
Or wealth recover from its drunkenness?
مَتَىwhen أَرَىshall I see النَّفْسَthe soul وَقَدْand already أُطْلِقَتْset free
مَتَى أَرَى النَّفْسَ وَقَدْ أُطْلِقَتْ
مِنْfrom رِبْقَةِthe noose of الْمَالِwealth وَمِنْand from أَسْرِهِits captivity؟
مِنْ رِبْقَةِ الْمَالِ وَمِنْ أَسْرِهِ؟
When shall I see the soul set free
From wealth's noose and its captivity?
مَتَىwhen أَرَىshall I see الْحُبَّlove كَضَوْءِlike the light of الضُّحَىmorning
مَتَى أَرَى الْحُبَّ كَضَوْءِ الضُّحَى
كُلُّevery امْرِئٍperson يَسْبَحُswims فِيin طُهْرِهِits purity؟
كُلُّ امْرِئٍ يَسْبَحُ فِي طُهْرِهِ؟
When shall I see love like the light of morning,
Every person swimming in its purity?
مَتَىwhen أَرَىshall I see النَّاسَpeople وَقَدْand already نُزِّهُواpurified
مَتَى أَرَى النَّاسَ وَقَدْ نُزِّهُوا
عَنْof شَرَهِthe greed of الذِّئْبِthe wolf وَعَنْand of غَدْرِهِits treachery؟
عَنْ شَرَهِ الذِّئْبِ وَعَنْ غَدْرِهِ؟
When shall I see people purified
Of the wolf's greed and its treachery?
أُخُوَّةُthe brotherhood of الْغُصْنِthe branch إِلَىtoward صِنْوِهِits twin
أُخُوَّةُ الْغُصْنِ إِلَى صِنْوِهِ
وَبَسْمَةُand the smile of الزَّهْرِthe blossom إِلَىtoward قَطْرِهِits rain
وَبَسْمَةُ الزَّهْرِ إِلَى قَطْرِهِ
The brotherhood of a branch toward its twin,
And the blossom's smile toward its rain,
وَرَحْمَةٌand mercy، رَفَّافَةٌfluttering لَمْnot تَدَعْhas left
وَرَحْمَةٌ، رَفَّافَةٌ لَمْ تَدَعْ
قَلْبًاa heart يُوَارِيconcealing النَّارَfire فِيin صَخْرِهِits stone
قَلْبًا يُوَارِي النَّارَ فِي صَخْرِهِ
And fluttering mercy that has left no
Heart concealing fire within its stone.
لَاnot يُحْسَدُis envied الْجَاهُrank عَلَىfor مَالِهِits wealth
لَا يُحْسَدُ الْجَاهُ عَلَى مَالِهِ
أَوْor يُنْهَرُis rebuked الْبُؤْسُmisery عَلَىfor فَقْرِهِits poverty
أَوْ يُنْهَرُ الْبُؤْسُ عَلَى فَقْرِهِ
No rank is envied for its wealth,
Nor misery rebuked for its poverty.
كَمْhow many شَارِدٍa waif فِيin مِصْرَEgypt، يَاoh كُثْرَهُits multitude
كَمْ شَارِدٍ فِي مِصْرَ، يَا كُثْرَهُ
مِنْof عَدَدٍa number، يَسْخَرُscoffs مِنْat حَصْرِهِcounting it!
مِنْ عَدَدٍ، يَسْخَرُ مِنْ حَصْرِهِ!
How many waifs in Egypt—oh, their multitude—
A number that scoffs at being counted!
ذَخِيرَةُthe treasure of الْأُمَّةِthe nation أَبْنَاؤُهَاits children
ذَخِيرَةُ الْأُمَّةِ أَبْنَاؤُهَا
مَاذَاwhat أَفَادَhas gained النِّيلُthe Nile مِنْfrom ذُخْرِهِits treasure؟
مَاذَا أَفَادَ النِّيلُ مِنْ ذُخْرِهِ؟
A nation's treasure is its children;
What has the Nile gained from its treasure?
مَاذَاwhat أَفَادَhas gained النِّيلُthe Nile مِنْfrom سَاعِدٍan arm
مَاذَا أَفَادَ النِّيلُ مِنْ سَاعِدٍ
أَسْرَعَquicker مِنْthan ضِغْثٍa bundle of stalks إِلَىto كَسْرِهِits breaking؟
أَسْرَعَ مِنْ ضِغْثٍ إِلَى كَسْرِهِ؟
What has the Nile gained from an arm
Quicker to snap than a bundle of straw?
وَأَرْجُلٍand legs أَوْهَنَweaker مِنْthan هَمْسَةٍa whisper
وَأَرْجُلٍ أَوْهَنَ مِنْ هَمْسَةٍ
وَمِنْand than نَسِيمِthe breeze of الصُّبْحِmorning فِيin مَرِّهِits passing
وَمِنْ نَسِيمِ الصُّبْحِ فِي مَرِّهِ
And legs weaker than a whisper,
Or the morning breeze as it passes,
وَمِنْand from فَتَاةٍa girl فَجْرُهَاher dawn لَيْلُهَاher night
وَمِنْ فَتَاةٍ فَجْرُهَا لَيْلُهَا
وَمِنْand from غُلَامٍa boy ضَلَّwent astray فِيin فَجْرِهِhis dawn
وَمِنْ غُلَامٍ ضَلَّ فِي فَجْرِهِ
And from a girl whose dawn is her night,
And from a boy astray at his dawn?
أَلْقَتْهُcast him aside مِصْرٌEgypt هَمَلًاneglected ضَائِعًاlost
أَلْقَتْهُ مِصْرٌ هَمَلًا ضَائِعًا
فَصَالَso he charged يَبْغِيseeking الثَّارَvengeance مِنْagainst مِصْرِهِhis Egypt
فَصَالَ يَبْغِي الثَّارَ مِنْ مِصْرِهِ
Egypt cast him aside, neglected and lost,
So he charged, seeking vengeance on his Egypt.
غَاصَhe plunged مِنَof الْآثَامِsins فِيinto آسِنٍa stagnant pool
غَاصَ مِنَ الْآثَامِ فِي آسِنٍ
يَكْرَعُhe gulps مِلْءَthe fullness of الْفَمِthe mouth مِنْof مُرِّهِits bitterness
يَكْرَعُ مِلْءَ الْفَمِ مِنْ مُرِّهِ
He plunged into a stagnant pool of sins,
Gulping mouthfuls of its bitterness.
أَسْرَىmore night-prowling مِنَthan اللَّيْلِnight، وَأَمْضَىand more ruthless يَدًاof hand
أَسْرَى مِنَ اللَّيْلِ، وَأَمْضَى يَدًا
مِنْthan عَبَثِthe mischief of اللَّيْلِnight، وَمِنْand than مَكْرِهِits guile
مِنْ عَبَثِ اللَّيْلِ، وَمِنْ مَكْرِهِ
More a night-prowler than night, more ruthless of hand
Than night's mischief and its guile.
كَمْhow often ضَاقَwas distressed مِنْby شِقْوَتِهِhis wretchedness عَصْرُهُhis age
كَمْ ضَاقَ مِنْ شِقْوَتِهِ عَصْرُهُ
وَضَاقَand he was distressed بِالسُّخْطِwith resentment عَلَىagainst عَصْرِهِhis age!
وَضَاقَ بِالسُّخْطِ عَلَى عَصْرِهِ!
How often his age has chafed at his wretchedness,
And he has seethed with resentment against his age!
شَجًاa lodged bone بِحَلْقِin the throat of الْوَطَنِthe homeland الْمُفْتَدَىworth dying for
شَجًا بِحَلْقِ الْوَطَنِ الْمُفْتَدَى
وَشَوْكَةٌand a thorn كَالنَّصْلِlike a blade فِيin ظَهْرِهِits back
وَشَوْكَةٌ كَالنَّصْلِ فِي ظَهْرِهِ
A bone in the throat of the homeland we would die for,
And a thorn like a blade in its back.
مَدْرَسَةُthe school of النَّشْلِpickpocketing وَسَلِّand drawing الْمُدَىknives
مَدْرَسَةُ النَّشْلِ وَسَلِّ الْمُدَى
أَسَّسَهَاfounded it الشَّيْطَانُthe Devil فِيin جُحْرِهِhis hole
أَسَّسَهَا الشَّيْطَانُ فِي جُحْرِهِ
The school of pickpocketing and drawing knives—
The Devil founded it within his hole.
إِذَاwhen هَوَىfalls الْخُلْقُmorality، وَضَاعَand is lost الْحِجَاreason
إِذَا هَوَى الْخُلْقُ، وَضَاعَ الْحِجَا
فَكُلُّthen every شَيْءٍthing ضَاعَis lost فِيin إِثْرِهِits wake!
فَكُلُّ شَيْءٍ ضَاعَ فِي إِثْرِهِ!
When morality falls and reason is lost,
Everything is lost in its wake!
مَنْwhoever يُصْلِحِreforms الْأُسْرَةَthe family يُصْلِحْrepairs بِهَاthrough it
مَنْ يُصْلِحِ الْأُسْرَةَ يُصْلِحْ بِهَا
مَاwhat دَمَّرَhas destroyed الْإِفْسَادُcorruption فِيin قُطْرِهِhis country
مَا دَمَّرَ الْإِفْسَادُ فِي قُطْرِهِ
Whoever reforms the family repairs through it
What corruption has destroyed within his country.
جِنَايَةُthe crime of الْوَالِدِthe father نَبْذُabandoning ابْنِهِhis son
جِنَايَةُ الْوَالِدِ نَبْذُ ابْنِهِ
فِيin عُسْرِهِhis hardship، إِنْif كَانَhe be، أَوْor يُسْرِهِhis ease
فِي عُسْرِهِ، إِنْ كَانَ، أَوْ يُسْرِهِ
A father's crime is abandoning his son,
Whether he be in hardship or in ease.
لَاnot تَتْرُكُabandons الذِّئْبَةُthe she-wolf أَجْرَاءَهَاher cubs
لَا تَتْرُكُ الذِّئْبَةُ أَجْرَاءَهَا
وَلَاnor يَغِيبُstays away الْكَلْبُthe dog عَنْfrom وَجْرِهِits den
وَلَا يَغِيبُ الْكَلْبُ عَنْ وَجْرِهِ
The she-wolf does not abandon her cubs,
Nor does the dog stay away from its den.
الْبَيْتُthe house صَحْرَاءُa desert إِذَاif لَمْnot تَجِدْyou find
الْبَيْتُ صَحْرَاءُ إِذَا لَمْ تَجِدْ
طُفُولَةًchildhood تَمْرَحُplaying فِيin كِسْرِهِits corner
طُفُولَةً تَمْرَحُ فِي كِسْرِهِ
The house is a desert if you cannot find
Childhood playing in its corner.
فَعَاقِبُواso punish الْآبَاءَfathers إِنْif قَصَّرُواthey neglect their duty
فَعَاقِبُوا الْآبَاءَ إِنْ قَصَّرُوا
لَاno بُدَّescape لِلسَّادِرِfor the heedless مِنْfrom زَجْرِهِrebuking him
لَا بُدَّ لِلسَّادِرِ مِنْ زَجْرِهِ
So punish fathers if they neglect their duty;
The heedless must be rebuked.
وَأَنْقِذُواand save الطِّفْلَthe child فَمَاfor what is ذَنْبُهُhis fault
وَأَنْقِذُوا الطِّفْلَ فَمَا ذَنْبُهُ
إِنْif جَمَحَruns wild الْوَالِدُthe father فِيin خُسْرِهِhis ruin؟
إِنْ جَمَحَ الْوَالِدُ فِي خُسْرِهِ؟
And save the child—what is his fault
If the father runs headlong into ruin?
رَبُّوهُraise him، يَنْمُوhe will grow ثَمَرًاas fruit طَيِّبًاgood
رَبُّوهُ، يَنْمُو ثَمَرًا طَيِّبًا
لَاnot يَيْئَسُdespairs الزَّارِعُthe sower مِنْof بَذْرِهِhis seed
لَا يَيْئَسُ الزَّارِعُ مِنْ بَذْرِهِ
Raise him, and he will grow into good fruit;
The sower will not despair of his seed.
وَعَلِّمُوهُand teach him عَمَلًاwork صَالِحًاhonest
وَعَلِّمُوهُ عَمَلًا صَالِحًا
يَشُدُّthat strengthens — إِنْif كَافَحَhe struggles — مِنْof أَزْرِهِhis back
يَشُدُّ — إِنْ كَافَحَ — مِنْ أَزْرِهِ
And teach him honest work
To strengthen his back if he struggles.
رَبُّوهُraise him فِيin الرِّيفِthe countryside لَعَلَّperhaps الْقُرَىthe villages
رَبُّوهُ فِي الرِّيفِ لَعَلَّ الْقُرَى
تُصْلِحُwill mend مَاwhat أَعْضَلَhas grown intractable مِنْof أَمْرِهِhis condition
تُصْلِحُ مَا أَعْضَلَ مِنْ أَمْرِهِ
Raise him in the countryside; perhaps the villages
Will mend what has grown intractable in his condition.
النَّفْسُthe soul مِرْآةٌa mirror وَغُصْنُand the branch of النَّقَاthe sandhill
النَّفْسُ مِرْآةٌ وَغُصْنُ النَّقَا
يَطِيبُgrows good أَوْor يَخْبُثُgrows foul مِنْfrom جِذْرِهِits root
يَطِيبُ أَوْ يَخْبُثُ مِنْ جِذْرِهِ
The soul is a mirror, and a branch on the dunes
Grows good or foul according to its root.
لَعَلَّperhaps هَمْسَthe whisper of الْغُصْنِthe branch فِيin أُذْنِهِhis ear
لَعَلَّ هَمْسَ الْغُصْنِ فِي أُذْنِهِ
يُنْسِيهِwill make him forget مَاwhat أَضْمَرَhe harbored مِنْof ثَأْرِهِhis vengeance
يُنْسِيهِ مَا أَضْمَرَ مِنْ ثَأْرِهِ
Perhaps the branch's whisper in his ear
Will make him forget the vengeance he has harbored.
لَعَلَّperhaps أَنْفَاسَthe breaths of نَسِيمِthe breeze of الرُّبَاthe hills
لَعَلَّ أَنْفَاسَ نَسِيمِ الرُّبَا
فِيin صَدْرِهِhis breast، تُبْرِدُwill cool مِنْsome of جَمْرِهِhis embers
فِي صَدْرِهِ، تُبْرِدُ مِنْ جَمْرِهِ
Perhaps the breaths of the breeze upon the hills,
Within his breast, will cool some of his embers.
النِّيلُthe Nile يَسْتَنْجِدُcalls for help مُسْتَنْصِرًاseeking aid
النِّيلُ يَسْتَنْجِدُ مُسْتَنْصِرًا
فَأَسْرِعُواso hasten الْخَطْوَyour steps إِلَىto نَصْرِهِits rescue
فَأَسْرِعُوا الْخَطْوَ إِلَى نَصْرِهِ
The Nile calls for help, seeking aid;
So hasten your steps to its rescue.
لَاnot يَذْهَبُis lost الْمَعْرُوفُkindness فِيin لُجَّةٍa deep sea
لَا يَذْهَبُ الْمَعْرُوفُ فِي لُجَّةٍ
وَلَاnor يَكُفُّceases الْمِسْكُmusk عَنْfrom نَشْرِهِspreading its fragrance
وَلَا يَكُفُّ الْمِسْكُ عَنْ نَشْرِهِ
Kindness is never lost in the depths,
Nor does musk cease spreading its fragrance.
Translation model: Sol 6.1