هَلِwill الطَرفُthe eye يُعطيgive نَظرَةًa glimpse مِنof حَبيبِهِits beloved
هَلِ الطَرفُ يُعطي نَظرَةً مِن حَبيبِهِ
أَمِor القَلبُthe heart يَلقىfind راحَةًrest مِنfrom وَجيبِهِits pounding
أَمِ القَلبُ يَلقى راحَةً مِن وَجيبِهِ
Will the eye give a glimpse of its beloved,
Does the eye give a glance from its beloved
or will the heart find rest from its pounding?
Or the heart find solace from its sorrow?
وَهَلand do لِلَّياليfor the nights عَطفَةٌa kindly turn بَعدَafter نَفرَةٍestrangement
وَهَل لِلَّيالي عَطفَةٌ بَعدَ نَفرَةٍ
تَعودُreturns فَتُلهيthen distracts ناظِراًa watching eye عَنfrom غُروبِهِits tears
تَعودُ فَتُلهي ناظِراً عَن غُروبِهِ
And do the nights have a kindly turn after estrangement,
Will the nights show affection after aloofness
returning to distract a watching eye from its tears?
Returning to delight the watcher from its setting?
وَلِلَّهِand God's are أَيّامٌdays عَفونَthat faded كَماjust as عَفاfaded
وَلِلَّهِ أَيّامٌ عَفونَ كَما عَفا
ذَوائِبُthe tresses of مَيّاسِswaying العَرارِthe ʿarār رَطيبِهِits tender growth
ذَوائِبُ مَيّاسِ العَرارِ رَطيبِهِ
And God's were days that faded, just as faded
For God has days of pardon as he pardoned
the tresses of the swaying, tender ʿarār.
The twisting paths of meadows, fragrant and fresh
أَحِنُّI yearn إِلىfor نورِthe blossoms of الرُبىthe hills فيin بِطاحِهِits broad flats
أَحِنُّ إِلى نورِ الرُبى في بِطاحِهِ
وَأَظماand I thirst إِلىfor رَيّاthe fragrance of اللِوىal-Liwā فيin هُيوبِهِits gusts (uncertain reading)
وَأَظما إِلى رَيّا اللِوى في هُيوبِهِ
I yearn for the hills' blossoms in its broad flats,
I yearn for the light of pastures in the valley
and thirst for al-Liwā's fragrance in its gusts.
And pine for the friend at the watering place
وَذاكَand that الحِمىprotected pasture يَغدوis at dawn عَليلاًailing نَسيمُهُits breeze
وَذاكَ الحِمى يَغدو عَليلاً نَسيمُهُ
وَيُمسيand is at dusk صَحيحاًsound ماؤُهُits water فيin قَليبِهِits well
وَيُمسي صَحيحاً ماؤُهُ في قَليبِهِ
In that protected pasture, its breeze is ailing at dawn,
That sanctuary goes out ailing in its breeze
while its water is sound at dusk within its well.
And returns healthy in its water at dusk
حَبَبتُI cherished لِقَلبيfor my heart ظِلَّهُits shade فيin هَجيرِهِits midday heat
حَبَبتُ لِقَلبي ظِلَّهُ في هَجيرِهِ
إِذاwhen ماemphatic particle دَجاgrew dark أَوor شَمسَهُits sun فيin ضَريبِهِits frost
إِذا ما دَجا أَو شَمسَهُ في ضَريبِهِ
I cherished its shade for my heart in its midday heat,
I made its shade beloved in its desolation
when it grew dark, or its sunlight amid its frost.
Be it darkening or its sun in decline
وَعَهديand my memory بِذاكَof that الظَبيِgazelle إِبّانَat the time زُرتُهُI visited him
وَعَهدي بِذاكَ الظَبيِ إِبّانَ زُرتُهُ
رَعانيhe cared for me وَلَمand did not يَحفِلpay heed بِعَينَيto the two eyes of رَقيبِهِhis watcher
رَعاني وَلَم يَحفِل بِعَينَي رَقيبِهِ
I remember that gazelle at the time I visited him:
My pact with that gazelle when I visited it
he cared for me and paid no heed to his watcher's eyes.
Grazing freely, not heeding its watcher’s eye
وَحَكَّمَand gave authority to ثَغريmy mouth فيover إِناءِthe vessel of رُضابِهِhis sweet saliva
وَحَكَّمَ ثَغري في إِناءِ رُضابِهِ
وَأَدنىand brought nearer جَواديmy steed مِنto إِناءِthe vessel of حَليبِهِhis milk
وَأَدنى جَوادي مِن إِناءِ حَليبِهِ
He gave my mouth command of the vessel of his sweet saliva,
It arbitrated my mouth to its satisfaction
and brought my steed near the vessel of his milk.
And brought my steed near the bowl of its milk
هُوَit is الشَوقُlonging مَدلولاًguided عَلىto مَقتَلِthe mortal spot of الفَتىthe young man
هُوَ الشَوقُ مَدلولاً عَلى مَقتَلِ الفَتى
إِذاwhen لَمnot يَعِدit promises قَلباًa heart بِلُقياa meeting with حَبيبِهِits beloved
إِذا لَم يَعِد قَلباً بِلُقيا حَبيبِهِ
It is longing, guided to a young man's mortal spot,
Yearning points to the slaying of the youth
when it promises no heart a meeting with its beloved.
When the heart no longer meets its beloved
تُعَيِّرُنيyou taunt me for تَلويحَthe discoloration of وَجهيmy face وَإِنَّماyet in truth
تُعَيِّرُني تَلويحَ وَجهي وَإِنَّما
غَضارَتُهُits bloom مَدفونَةٌis buried فيin شُحوبِهِits pallor
غَضارَتُهُ مَدفونَةٌ في شُحوبِهِ
You taunt me for my face's discoloration, yet
You reproach the pallor of my face
its bloom lies buried in its pallor.
Yet its ashen hue lies buried in its pallor
فَرُبَّfor many a شَقاءٍmisery قَدindeed نَعِمناwe enjoyed بِمُرِّهِin its bitterness
فَرُبَّ شَقاءٍ قَد نَعِمنا بِمُرِّهِ
وَرُبَّand many a نَعيمٍbliss قَدindeed شَقيناwe suffered بِطيبِهِfrom its sweetness
وَرُبَّ نَعيمٍ قَد شَقينا بِطيبِهِ
How often we have enjoyed misery in its bitterness,
How much misery we delighted in its bitterness
and suffered from the sweetness of bliss.
And how much delight brought woe in its sweetness
وَلَولاand were it not for بَواقيremaining نائِباتٍcalamities مِنَfrom الرَدىdeath
وَلَولا بَواقي نائِباتٍ مِنَ الرَدى
غَفَرتُI would forgive لِهَذاto this الدَهرِage ماضيthe past of ذُنوبِهِits sins
غَفَرتُ لِهَذا الدَهرِ ماضي ذُنوبِهِ
Were it not for calamities death still has in store,
Were it not for the remnants of fate’s calamities
I would forgive this age its past offenses.
I would have pardoned this life its past sins
وَإِنّيand I indeed لِعِرفانِthrough knowledge of الزَمانِtime وَغَدرِهِand its treachery
وَإِنّي لِعِرفانِ الزَمانِ وَغَدرِهِ
أَبيتُI pass the night وَماand no ليfor me فِكرَةٌthought فيabout خُطوبِهِits calamities
أَبيتُ وَما لي فِكرَةٌ في خُطوبِهِ
And I, knowing time and its treachery,
Knowing the days and their betrayal
pass the night with no thought for its calamities.
I refused, unconcerned with its events
وَأُصبِحُand I wake لاnot مُستَعظِماًin awe لِعَظيمِهِof its mighty events
وَأُصبِحُ لا مُستَعظِماً لِعَظيمِهِ
بِقَلبيin my heart وَلاnor مُستَعجِباًmarveling لِعَجيبِهِat its wonders
بِقَلبي وَلا مُستَعجِباً لِعَجيبِهِ
I wake without deeming its great events great
I face its mighty without awe in my heart
within my heart, nor marveling at its wonders.
Nor marvel at its wonders, surprised
يَغُمُّtroubles الفَتىthe young man ذِكرُthe thought of المَشيبِgray hair وَرُبَّماand sometimes
يَغُمُّ الفَتى ذِكرُ المَشيبِ وَرُبَّما
يَلقىhe meets اِنقِضاءَthe end of العُمرِlife قَبلَbefore مَشيبِهِhis graying
يَلقى اِنقِضاءَ العُمرِ قَبلَ مَشيبِهِ
A young man is troubled by the thought of gray hair, yet sometimes
The youth worries about aging
he meets life's end before his hair turns gray.
And may meet his end before it comes
وَيُنسيهِand makes him forget بَدءَthe beginning of العَيشِlife ماwhat فيis in عَقيبِهِits aftermath
وَيُنسيهِ بَدءَ العَيشِ ما في عَقيبِهِ
وَجيئَتُهُand its coming تُبديreveals لَناto us عَنabout ذُهوبِهِits going
وَجيئَتُهُ تُبدي لَنا عَن ذُهوبِهِ
What follows makes him forget life's beginning,
The beginning of life makes him forget what follows
and its coming reveals to us its departure.
And its arrival shows us its secrets
إِلىuntil كَمhow long أَشُقُّI cleave اللَيلَthe night عَنfrom كُلِّevery مَهمَهٍtrackless waste
إِلى كَم أَشُقُّ اللَيلَ عَن كُلِّ مَهمَهٍ
وَأَرعىand I watch طُلوعَthe rising of النَجمِthe star حَتّىuntil مَغيبِهِits setting
وَأَرعى طُلوعَ النَجمِ حَتّى مَغيبِهِ
How long shall I cleave the night from every trackless waste,
How I split the night for every concern
and watch the star's rising until its setting?
And watch the stars rise until their setting
أَخُطُّI inscribe بِأَطرافِwith the tips of القَناlances كُلَّevery بَلدَةٍland
أَخُطُّ بِأَطرافِ القَنا كُلَّ بَلدَةٍ
وَأُمليand I fill جَلابيبَthe cloaks of المَلاthe open waste مِنwith نُدوبِهِits scars
وَأُملي جَلابيبَ المَلا مِن نُدوبِهِ
I inscribe each land with the tips of lances,
I traverse the edges of every land
and fill the waste's cloaks with its scars.
And unleash calamity on the infidels
وَكُنتُand I used to إِذاwhen خَوّىcollapsed نَجيبٌa noble camel تَرَكتُهُleave it
وَكُنتُ إِذا خَوّى نَجيبٌ تَرَكتُهُ
أَسيرَa captive of عِقالٍa hobble مُؤلِمٍpainful مِنfrom لُغوبِهِits exhaustion
أَسيرَ عِقالٍ مُؤلِمٍ مِن لُغوبِهِ
Whenever a noble camel collapsed, I would leave it
When an eminent one misbehaved, I left him
captive to a painful hobble wrought by its weariness,
To a painful, remorseful restraint from frivolity
رَجاءًhoping لِعِزٍّfor honor أَقتَنيهِI would gain it وَحالَةٍand a station
رَجاءً لِعِزٍّ أَقتَنيهِ وَحالَةٍ
تَزيدُthat adds to عَدوّيmy enemy مِنof غَواشيthe shrouds of كُروبِهِhis sorrows
تَزيدُ عَدوّي مِن غَواشي كُروبِهِ
hoping for honor I might gain, and a station
Hoping for honor I gained and a state
that would add to the shrouds of my enemy's sorrows.
That increased my enemy’s wounds and anguish
وَبَزلاءَand a grim ordeal مِنfrom جُندِthe army of اللَياليthe nights لَقيتُهاI met it
وَبَزلاءَ مِن جُندِ اللَيالي لَقيتُها
بِقَلبٍwith a heart بَعيدِfar-reaching in العَزمِresolve فيهاin it قَريبِهِnear in it
بِقَلبٍ بَعيدِ العَزمِ فيها قَريبِهِ
Many a grim ordeal from the nights' army I have met
I faced the nights’ army with a heart
with a heart whose resolve against it was far-reaching, yet near at hand.
Ready and close on their battlefield
نَصَبتُI set لَهاbefore it وَجهيmy face وَلَيسَand not كَعاجِزٍlike a helpless man
نَصَبتُ لَها وَجهي وَلَيسَ كَعاجِزٍ
يُوَقّيهِhe shields him from حَرَّthe heat of الطَعنِthrusting مَنthe one who يَتَّقيhe protects himself بِهِwith him
يُوَقّيهِ حَرَّ الطَعنِ مَن يَتَّقي بِهِ
I set my face before it, not like a helpless man
I set my face against them, no coward
protected from the heat of thrusts by one he uses as a shield.
Fearing the sharp blades that pierce
وَخَيلٍand horses كَأَمثالِlike the shapes of القَناlances تَحمِلُcarrying القَناlances
وَخَيلٍ كَأَمثالِ القَنا تَحمِلُ القَنا
عَلىon كُلِّevery عُنقٍneck عاقِدٍknotting مِنfrom سَبيبِهِits mane
عَلى كُلِّ عُنقٍ عاقِدٍ مِن سَبيبِهِ
And horses as slender as lances, bearing lances
Horses like columns bearing columns
on every neck, forming a knot of its flowing mane.
On every buckled neck of their straps
حَمَلتُI mounted عَلَيهاon them كُلَّevery طَعّانِskilled lancer against سُربَةٍa cavalry troop
حَمَلتُ عَلَيها كُلَّ طَعّانِ سُربَةٍ
كَماas نَهَزَplunges الساقيthe water-drawer بِجَنبَيat the two sides of قَليبِهِhis well
كَما نَهَزَ الساقي بِجَنبَي قَليبِهِ
I set upon them every lancer who thrusts into a troop,
I unleashed them on every slanderous horde
as a water-drawer plunges his bucket at his well's two sides.
As the cupbearer shook the cups in his hands
قَضىfulfilled وَطَرَthe desire for العَلياءِglory مَنwhoever رَكِبَrode القَناthe lances
قَضى وَطَرَ العَلياءِ مَن رَكِبَ القَنا
وَأَولَغَand made lap بيضاًbright blades مِنfrom دَمٍblood فيin صَبيبِهِits flowing torrent
وَأَولَغَ بيضاً مِن دَمٍ في صَبيبِهِ
He fulfills his desire for glory who rides the lances
Those who rode the steeds spent and exhausted the lofty
and makes bright blades lap blood as it streams.
As their swords spilled white from the blood
وَكَمand many a قَعدَةٍseated stance مِنّيof mine أَقَمتُI raised بِبَأسِهاby its might
وَكَم قَعدَةٍ مِنّي أَقَمتُ بِبَأسِها
إِلىfor الطَعنِthe thrust مَيّادَthe swaying one of القَناthe lances فيat كُعوبِهِits joints
إِلى الطَعنِ مَيّادَ القَنا في كُعوبِهِ
In many a seated stance of mine, by its might I have raised
How many attacks I resisted in their onslaught
the lance, swaying at its joints, to thrust.
Till the sword play of the steeds pierced their heels
وَلَمّاand when رَكِبتُI rode الهَولَterror لَمnot أَرضَI accepted دونَهُanything less than it
وَلَمّا رَكِبتُ الهَولَ لَم أَرضَ دونَهُ
وَمَنand whoever رَكِبَrode اللَيثَthe lion اِعتَلىrose high عَنabove نَجيبِهِhis noble mount
وَمَن رَكِبَ اللَيثَ اِعتَلى عَن نَجيبِهِ
When I rode into terror, I accepted nothing less;
When I rode calamity, none compared
whoever rides a lion has risen above his noble mount.
He who rides the lion rises above the eminent
تُريحُbring home at evening عَلَيناto us ثَلَّةَthe flock of المَجدِglory شُزَّبٌlean horses
تُريحُ عَلَينا ثَلَّةَ المَجدِ شُزَّبٌ
تُغاليgalloping at full stretch وَأَيدٍand hands مِنof قَناًlance-wood فيin صَليبِهِits hardest core
تُغالي وَأَيدٍ مِن قَناً في صَليبِهِ
Lean steeds bring home to us the flock of glory,
A band displays the glory of victory
racing at full stretch, and hands wielding the stoutest lance-wood.
Assailing with hands that wield the swords
وَأَبيَضَand a radiant man مِنfrom عَلياthe heights of مَعَدٍّMaʿadd بَنانُهُhis fingers
وَأَبيَضَ مِن عَليا مَعَدٍّ بَنانُهُ
مُقاوِمُthe equal of رَيّانِwell-watered in الغِرارِthe cutting edge خَصيبِهِlush in it
مُقاوِمُ رَيّانِ الغِرارِ خَصيبِهِ
And a radiant man from the heights of Maʿadd, whose fingers
Whiter than a lofty structure its lances
rival a blade with a lush, well-watered edge.
Resisting the torrents of perfidy, fruitful
أَخَفُّswifter إِلىtoward يَومِthe day of الوَغىbattle مِنthan سِنانِهِhis spearpoint
أَخَفُّ إِلى يَومِ الوَغى مِن سِنانِهِ
وَأَمضىand sharper عَلىupon هامِthe heads of العِدىthe enemies مِنthan قَضيبِهِhis blade
وَأَمضى عَلى هامِ العِدى مِن قَضيبِهِ
Swifter toward the day of battle than his spearpoint,
More penetrating than its blades on the day of battle
and sharper upon foes' heads than his blade.
More decisive than its shafts against the foe
هَلِis السَيفُthe sword إِلّاanything but مُنتَضىًdrawn مِنfrom لِحاظِهِhis glances
هَلِ السَيفُ إِلّا مُنتَضىً مِن لِحاظِهِ
أَوِor البَدرُthe full moon إِلّاanything but طالِعٌrising مِنfrom جُيوبِهِhis robe's openings
أَوِ البَدرُ إِلّا طالِعٌ مِن جُيوبِهِ
Is the sword anything but a blade drawn from his glances,
Is the sword but drawn from its scabbard?
or the full moon anything but what rises from his robe's openings?
The moon but rising from its dunes?
إِذاwhen سُئِلَhe is asked اِنهالَpours down النَدىbounty مِنfrom بَنانِهِhis fingers
إِذا سُئِلَ اِنهالَ النَدى مِن بَنانِهِ
كَماjust as اِنهالَpour down أَذيالُthe skirts of النَقاthe sand ridge مِنfrom كَثيبِهِits dune
كَما اِنهالَ أَذيالُ النَقا مِن كَثيبِهِ
When asked, bounty pours down from his fingers
When asked, it rains down blows from its lances
as a sand ridge's skirts pour down from its dune.
As the trailing robes of eminence rain from their peaks
جَوادٌa generous man إِذاwhen ماemphatic particle مَزَّقَtore apart الذَودَthe camel herd عَضبُهُhis keen blade
جَوادٌ إِذا ما مَزَّقَ الذَودَ عَضبُهُ
أَذاعَhe spread النَدىbounty مِنfrom جُردِهِhis sleek horses بَعدَafter نَيبِهِhis aged she-camels
أَذاعَ النَدى مِن جُردِهِ بَعدَ نَيبِهِ
A generous man: when his keen blade has torn through the camel herd,
A steed whose fury shreds the protection
he lavishes gifts of his sleek horses after his aged she-camels.
Spreads dew from its smooth neck and shoulder
يَسيرُhe travels أَمامَahead of النَجمِthe star عِندَat طُلوعِهِits rising
يَسيرُ أَمامَ النَجمِ عِندَ طُلوعِهِ
وَيَهويand he swoops أَمامَahead of النَجمِthe star عِندَat غُروبِهِits setting
وَيَهوي أَمامَ النَجمِ عِندَ غُروبِهِ
He travels ahead of the star at its rising,
It goes before the star at its rising
and swoops ahead of the star at its setting.
And plunges before the star at its setting
رَضيتُI was content بِهِwith him فيat صَدرِthe outset of يَومِa day عَجاجِهِits dust-cloud
رَضيتُ بِهِ في صَدرِ يَومِ عَجاجِهِ
عَلىupon شَمسِهِits sun عارِيَةًbare مِنfrom سُهوبِهِits broad plains
عَلى شَمسِهِ عارِيَةً مِن سُهوبِهِ
I was content with him at the outset of a day whose dust
I approved it on the day of its fury
lay upon its sun, bare above its broad plains.
Bare of covering, purified
مَضىhe went on يَحرُسُholding in check الأَقرانَopponents بِالطَعنِwith thrusts فيinto الطُلىthe throats
مَضى يَحرُسُ الأَقرانَ بِالطَعنِ في الطُلى
وَقَدwhile already لَجَّpersisted نَعّابُthe raven of القَناthe lances فيin نَعيبِهِits cawing
وَقَد لَجَّ نَعّابُ القَنا في نَعيبِهِ
He went on holding opponents in check with thrusts to their throats,
It went on guarding the peers with its thrusts in battle
while the lances' raven persisted in its cawing.
While the swords pierced the bowels of the steeds
أَناI اِبنُam the son of نَبيِّthe Prophet of اللَهِGod وَاِبنُand the son of وَصِيِّهِhis legatee
أَنا اِبنُ نَبيِّ اللَهِ وَاِبنُ وَصِيِّهِ
فَخارٌa pride عَلاthat rose عَنabove نِدِّهِits peer وَضَريبِهِand its equal
فَخارٌ عَلا عَن نِدِّهِ وَضَريبِهِ
I am the son of God's Prophet and the son of his legatee:
I am the son of God’s prophet and his successor
a pride that rises above any peer or equal.
Exalted, transcending his match and contender
تَأَدَّبَlearned courtesy مِنّيfrom me رائِعُthe terror of الخَطبِcalamity بَعدَماafter
تَأَدَّبَ مِنّي رائِعُ الخَطبِ بَعدَما
تَجَلّىrevealed itself سَفيهُthe rude side of الجَدِّfortune ليto me عَنrevealing أَديبِهِits courteous side
تَجَلّى سَفيهُ الجَدِّ لي عَن أَديبِهِ
The terror of calamity learned courtesy from me, after
The arrogant speaker humbled before me
fortune's rude side disclosed its courteous side to me.
When the frivolous exposed himself to the literary
فَوَاللَهِso by God لاnot أَلقىI will meet الزَمانَtime بِذِلَّةٍin humiliation
فَوَاللَهِ لا أَلقى الزَمانَ بِذِلَّةٍ
وَلَوeven if حَطَّit planted فيin فوديَّmy two temples أَمضىthe sharpest of غُروبِهِits edges
وَلَو حَطَّ في فوديَّ أَمضى غُروبِهِ
By God, I shall not face time in humiliation,
By God, I will not meet time in disgrace
even if it plants its sharpest edges in my two temples.
Even if it descends upon my neck at its setting
قَنِعتُI am content فَعِنديso in my view كُلُّevery مَلكٍking نُزولُهُhis descent
قَنِعتُ فَعِندي كُلُّ مَلكٍ نُزولُهُ
عَنِfrom العِزِّhonor وَالعَلياءِand eminence مِثلُis like رُكوبِهِhis ascent
عَنِ العِزِّ وَالعَلياءِ مِثلُ رُكوبِهِ
I am content: to me, every king's descent
I am content, to me every kingdom's decline
from honor and eminence is the same as his ascent.
From glory and eminence is like its rise
وَماand not أَسَفيmy regret إِلّاexcept عَلىfor ماwhat جَلَوتُهُI unveiled it
وَما أَسَفي إِلّا عَلى ما جَلَوتُهُ
عَلىto سَمعِthe hearing of مَنزورِone scant in النَوالِbounty نَضوبِهِdried-up in it
عَلى سَمعِ مَنزورِ النَوالِ نَضوبِهِ
My only regret is for what I unveiled
I regret only what I have wasted
to the ears of one whose gifts are scant and dried up.
To the impaired hearing of the asker, never sated
إِذاwhen ماemphatic particle رَآنيhe sees me قَطَّعَbreaks off اللَحظَthe glances طَرفُهُhis eye
إِذا ما رَآني قَطَّعَ اللَحظَ طَرفُهُ
وَعَنوَنَand signaled ليto me إِطراقُهُhis lowered gaze عَنabout قُطوبِهِhis scowl
وَعَنوَنَ لي إِطراقُهُ عَن قُطوبِهِ
When he sees me, his eye breaks off its glances,
When he sees me, his gaze cuts short
and his lowered gaze announces his scowl to me.
And his averting signals me his gloom
وَمَنand whoever لَمnot يَكُنbe حَمديmy praise نَصيباًa share لِبِشرِهِfor his cheerful welcome
وَمَن لَم يَكُن حَمدي نَصيباً لِبِشرِهِ
جَعَلتُI made ضُروبَvarieties of الذَمِّblame أَدنىthe least of نَصيبِهِhis share
جَعَلتُ ضُروبَ الذَمِّ أَدنى نَصيبِهِ
Whoever's cheerful welcome wins no share of my praise,
Whoever does not count my praise as good fortune
I make varieties of blame the least of his portion.
I make the forms of blame his portion
وَلَوand if أَنَّindeed عَضبيmy keen blade مُمكِنٌwere available ماnot ذَمَمتُهُI would revile him
وَلَو أَنَّ عَضبي مُمكِنٌ ما ذَمَمتُهُ
وَكانَand would be مَكانَin place of الذَمِّblame رَدعُbloodstaining of جُيوبِهِhis robe's openings
وَكانَ مَكانَ الذَمِّ رَدعُ جُيوبِهِ
Were my keen sword at hand, I would not revile him,
Had my wrath been possible, I would not blame him
and bloodstains on his robe's openings would replace reproach.
Restraint would replace blame, capturing his fancy
وَإِنَّand indeed عَناءَthe vain toil of الناظِرينَthe two watching eyes كِلَيهِماboth of them
وَإِنَّ عَناءَ الناظِرينَ كِلَيهِما
إِذاwhen طَمِعاthey both hope مِنfrom بارِقٍa lightning flash فيin خُلوبِهِits false promise
إِذا طَمِعا مِن بارِقٍ في خُلوبِهِ
Indeed, both watching eyes suffer in vain
The toil of both merely gaze, hoping
when they hope for rain from a deceptive lightning flash.
For a flash in its hidden depths
أُعابُI am faulted بِشِعريfor my poetry وَالَّذيand what أَناI قائِلٌutter
أُعابُ بِشِعري وَالَّذي أَنا قائِلٌ
يُقَلقِلُshakes جَنبيthe two flanks of عائِبٌa faultfinder مِنbecause of مَعيبِهِhis own disgrace
يُقَلقِلُ جَنبي عائِبٌ مِن مَعيبِهِ
I am faulted for my poetry, yet what I utter
I disparage in my poetry, and what I say
sets a faultfinder's flanks trembling at his own disgrace.
Worries the critic, flaw-picking from its slip-ups
وَكُلُّand every فَتىًyoung man يَرنوlooks إِلىtoward عَيبِthe fault of غَيرِهِsomeone other than him
وَكُلُّ فَتىً يَرنو إِلى عَيبِ غَيرِهِ
سَريعاًquickly وَتَعمىand becomes blind عَينُهُhis eye عَنto عُيوبِهِhis own faults
سَريعاً وَتَعمى عَينُهُ عَن عُيوبِهِ
Every young man looks toward another's faults
Each braggart swiftly overlooks their own flaws
quickly, while his eye is blind to his own.
While their eyes are blind to their own faults
وَماand not قَولِيَmy composing الأَشعارَpoems إِلّاexcept ذَريعَةًa means
وَما قَولِيَ الأَشعارَ إِلّا ذَريعَةً
إِلىtoward أَمَلٍa hope قَدalready آنَthe time has come قَودُto lead جَنيبِهِits led mount
إِلى أَمَلٍ قَد آنَ قَودُ جَنيبِهِ
My composing poems is only a means
I do not speak verse, but as a means
to a hope whose mount the time has come to lead.
To a hope whose time for gathering is ripe
وَإِنّيand I indeed إِذاif ماemphatic particle بَلَّغَgrants اللَهُGod مُنيَتيmy wish
وَإِنّي إِذا ما بَلَّغَ اللَهُ مُنيَتي
ضَمِنتُI pledged لَهُto Him هَجرَabandoning القَريضِpoetry وَحوبِهِand its sin
ضَمِنتُ لَهُ هَجرَ القَريضِ وَحوبِهِ
And if God grants my wish,
When God takes my soul, I guarantee
I pledge Him to abandon poetry and its sin.
Forsaking poetry and all its discourse
فَهَلso can عائِبيa reproach to me قَولٌspeech عَقَدتُI secured بِفَضلِهِby its merit
فَهَل عائِبي قَولٌ عَقَدتُ بِفَضلِهِ
فَخاريmy pride وَحَصَّنتُand I fortified العُلىhigh honor بِضُروبِهِwith its varied forms
فَخاري وَحَصَّنتُ العُلى بِضُروبِهِ
Can speech be my disgrace, when by its merit I secured
Has any critic a saying whose merit
my pride, and fortified high honor with its varied forms?
Exalts me and fortifies the heights in its forms?
سَأَترُكُI shall leave هَذاthis الدَهرَage يَرغوto bellow رُغاؤُهُits bellowing
سَأَترُكُ هَذا الدَهرَ يَرغو رُغاؤُهُ
وَتَصرُفُand gnash مِنfrom غَيظيmy wrath بَواديthe exposed parts of نُيوبِهِits fangs
وَتَصرُفُ مِن غَيظي بَوادي نُيوبِهِ
I shall leave this age to bellow its bellowing,
I will leave this life to vent its discontent
and its bared fangs to gnash under my wrath.
And turn my anger to the valleys of its wolves
وَأَجعَلُand I shall make عَضبيmy keen sword دونَbefore وَجهيmy face وِقايَةًa shield
وَأَجعَلُ عَضبي دونَ وَجهي وِقايَةً
لِيَأمَنَso that it is safe عِنديin my keeping ماؤُهُits water (honor) مِنfrom نُضوبِهِits drying up
لِيَأمَنَ عِندي ماؤُهُ مِن نُضوبِهِ
I shall set my keen sword before my face as a shield,
And make my wrath before me a protection
so that my face's water, in my keeping, is safe from drying up.
So its water is safe from drying near me
Claude 2 is inferred from the historical translator configuration. The original record does not identify its model.