غَرائِزُinnate qualities لَمّاwhen أُلَّفَتwere combined جَمَعَتgathered رَدىًdeath
غَرائِزُ لَمّا أُلَّفَت جَمَعَت رَدىً
وَهَلand does? يَجِدُfind الحِلمُreason الَّذيthat which يَحفَظُpreserves الخَلَماfat
وَهَل يَجِدُ الحِلمُ الَّذي يَحفَظُ الخَلَما
Innate qualities, once combined, brought death,
When instincts were created, they gathered harm
and can reason find what will preserve the fat?
And does wisdom find what preserves integrity?
فَلَيتَso would that الفَتىthe young man كَالتُربِlike dust لاnot يَألَمُfeel pain from الأَذىharm
فَلَيتَ الفَتى كَالتُربِ لا يَألَمُ الأَذى
وَكَالماءِand like water فيin الهَيجاءِbattle لاnot يَأنَفُresent الكَلماwounds
وَكَالماءِ في الهَيجاءِ لا يَأنَفُ الكَلما
Would that a young man were like dust, feeling no pain from harm,
If only the youth were like dust, unharmed by injury
and like water in battle, not resenting wounds.
And like water in tumult, unperturbed by speech
وَلَولاand were it not for حَياةٌlife فيin يَديmy hand خُلتُI would have thought أَنمُليmy fingertips
وَلَولا حَياةٌ في يَدي خُلتُ أَنمُلي
كَأَقلامِlike pens of بارٍa pen-sharpener غَيرِnot مُنكِرَةٍobjecting to قَلَماtrimming
كَأَقلامِ بارٍ غَيرِ مُنكِرَةٍ قَلَما
Were it not for life in my hand, I would think my fingertips
If not for a life in my hands, I’d be like silent pens
like a pen-sharpener's pens, not objecting to trimming.
Of a virtuous rain, rarely declining to write
وَماand not سَفَتِscattered الريحُthe wind الرَغامَdust جَهالَةًout of ignorance
وَما سَفَتِ الريحُ الرَغامَ جَهالَةً
وَلاnor رَكَدَتremained still قُدسٌQuds وَأَترابُهاand its peers حِلماout of forbearance
وَلا رَكَدَت قُدسٌ وَأَترابُها حِلما
The wind did not scatter dust out of ignorance,
The wind didn’t blow specks in ignorance
nor did Quds and its peers stand still out of forbearance.
Nor did Jerusalem and its environs stagnate in wisdom
رَأَيتُI saw سَجاياdispositions of الناسِpeople فيهاin them تَظالُمٌmutual oppression
رَأَيتُ سَجايا الناسِ فيها تَظالُمٌ
وَلاand no رَيبَdoubt فيin عَدلِjustice of الَّذيthe One who خَلَقَcreated الظُلماinjustice
وَلا رَيبَ في عَدلِ الَّذي خَلَقَ الظُلما
I saw mutual oppression in people's natures,
I saw the flaws of people, among them injustice
and there is no doubt of the justice of the One who created injustice.
And no doubt in the justice of the one who created darkness
إِذاif عِلمِيَmy knowledge of الأَشياءَthings جَرَّbrought مَضَرَّةًharm
إِذا عِلمِيَ الأَشياءَ جَرَّ مَضَرَّةً
إِلَيَّto me فَإِنَّthen indeed الجَهلَignorance أَنthat أَطلُبَI seek العِلماknowledge
إِلَيَّ فَإِنَّ الجَهلَ أَن أَطلُبَ العِلما
If my knowledge of things brings harm
When I know things, it draws harm to me
upon me, then it is ignorance for me to seek knowledge.
For ignorance is that I seek knowledge
وَماand not رَضيتwas content with رَضوىRadwa مِنَfrom الدَهرِtime حُكمَهُits judgment
وَما رَضيت رَضوى مِنَ الدَهرِ حُكمَهُ
وَإِنand even though كانَwas سَلمىSalma غَيرَnot مَرزوقَةٍgranted سِلماpeace
وَإِن كانَ سَلمى غَيرَ مَرزوقَةٍ سِلما
Radwa was not content with time's judgment,
And I haven’t been pleased with the decree of fate
even though Salma was granted no peace.
Even if my peace is not destined, without peace
عَفاmay forgive اللَهُGod عَنfrom (blame) صافيclear الحِجىintellect مُتَنَبِّهٍwakeful
عَفا اللَهُ عَن صافي الحِجى مُتَنَبِّهٍ
يَرىsees خَفضَهُhis ease بُؤسيmisery (reading the apparent typo as بؤسى) وَيَقظَتَهُand his wakefulness حُلماa dream
يَرى خَفضَهُ بُؤسي وَيَقظَتَهُ حُلما
May God forgive a clear-minded, wakeful man
May God forgive the one of pure intuition, awakened
who sees his ease as misery and his wakefulness as a dream.
Who sees my misery lowered and his calm heightened
فَناso no (reading the apparent typo as فلا) رَوضُهُhis garden مَرعىًpasture وَلاnor يُسرُهُhis prosperity غِنىًwealth
فَنا رَوضُهُ مَرعىً وَلا يُسرُهُ غِنىً
وَلاnor صُبحُهُhis morning أَضحىbright وَلاnor لَيلُهُhis night أَلمىdusky
وَلا صُبحُهُ أَضحى وَلا لَيلُهُ أَلمى
So his garden is no pasture, nor is his prosperity wealth,
So his meadow is my pasture, and wealth doesn’t please him
nor is his morning bright, nor his night dusky.
Nor is his dawn his sunset, or his night painful