جَماجِمُ أَمثالُ الكُراتِ هَفَت بِها

جَماجِمُ أَمثالُ الكُراتِ هَفَت بِها

سُيوفٌ ثَناها الضَربُ وَهيَ صَوالِجُ

سُيوفٌ ثَناها الضَربُ وَهيَ صَوالِجُ

Skulls like balls have been sent flying by

Skulls are like balls that swords have bent, wielding blows,

swords bent by striking, themselves polo mallets.

While they remain weapons' scabbards.

وَقَد يُغلِقُ الإِنسانُ مِن دونِ شَخصِهِ

وَقَد يُغلِقُ الإِنسانُ مِن دونِ شَخصِهِ

وِلاجاً وَهَمُّ القَلبِ في النَفسِ والِجُ

وِلاجاً وَهَمُّ القَلبِ في النَفسِ والِجُ

And a man may shut, before himself,

A man may confine himself away from others

a doorway, yet the heart's worry enters the soul.

With anguish in heart and soul churning.

لَعَمري لَقَد حَلَّت وُكوراً حَمائِمٌ

لَعَمري لَقَد حَلَّت وُكوراً حَمائِمٌ

لَيالِيَ ضاقَت عَن ظِباءٍ تَوالِجُ

لَيالِيَ ضاقَت عَن ظِباءٍ تَوالِجُ

By my life, doves have indeed settled in nests,

By my life! Doves have nested in the courtyards

on nights when lairs grew too cramped for gazelles.

Of nights too narrow for wandering wild animals.

أُؤَمِّلُ عَفوَ اللَهِ وَالصَدرُ جائِشٌ

أُؤَمِّلُ عَفوَ اللَهِ وَالصَدرُ جائِشٌ

إِذا خَلَجَتني لِلمَنونِ الخَوالِجُ

إِذا خَلَجَتني لِلمَنونِ الخَوالِجُ

I hope for God's pardon, my breast in turmoil,

I hope for God's pardon, while my chest burns,

when wrenching pangs draw me toward death.

Whenever the pangs of death seize me.

هُناكَ تَوَدُّ النَفسُ أَنَّ ذُنوبَها

هُناكَ تَوَدُّ النَفسُ أَنَّ ذُنوبَها

قَليلٌ وَأَنَّ القِدحَ بِالخَيرِ فالِجُ

قَليلٌ وَأَنَّ القِدحَ بِالخَيرِ فالِجُ

There the soul wishes that its sins

There the soul wishes its sins were few

were few, and that the lot-drawing arrow would win it good.

And its measure of good great.

وَيُنسي أَخا الأَشواقِ رَملَةَ عالِجٍ

وَيُنسي أَخا الأَشواقِ رَملَةَ عالِجٍ

وَيَبرينَ مِن هَولِ الرَدى ما يُعالِجُ

وَيَبرينَ مِن هَولِ الرَدى ما يُعالِجُ

And the man of longing is made to forget the sands of ʿĀlij

And forgets a lover's ashes in the sand dunes,

and Yabrīn by what he endures of death's terror.

And is saved from the horror of rejection by what it treats.

سَيَأكُلُ هَذا التُربُ أَعضاءَ بادِنٍ

سَيَأكُلُ هَذا التُربُ أَعضاءَ بادِنٍ

وَتورَثُ أَحجالٌ لَها وَدَمالِجُ

وَتورَثُ أَحجالٌ لَها وَدَمالِجُ

This soil will devour the limbs of a stout person,

This dust will eat the limbs of one who decays,

and their anklets and armlets will be inherited.

While generations inherit what he assembled and collected.

وَيُصمي الفَتى سَهمٌ مِنَ الدَهرِ صائِبٌ

وَيُصمي الفَتى سَهمٌ مِنَ الدَهرِ صائِبٌ

وَإِن صُرِفَت عَنهُ السِهامُ الزَوالِجُ

وَإِن صُرِفَت عَنهُ السِهامُ الزَوالِجُ

And a true-striking arrow from Time kills the young man outright,

And an arrow of fate, precisely striking, fells the youth,

even if the ricocheting arrows are turned aside from him.

Even if arrows of demise are deflected from him.