أَمَرَ السُلطانُ بِالشاعِرِ يَوماً فَأَتاهُ

أَمَرَ السُلطانُ بِالشاعِرِ يَوماً فَأَتاهُ

في كِساءٍ حائِلِ الصُبغَةِ واهٍ جنِباهُ

في كِساءٍ حائِلِ الصُبغَةِ واهٍ جنِباهُ

One day the sultan summoned the poet, and he came to him

The sultan commanded the poet one day, so he came to him

The Sultan summoned the poet one day, and he came,

in a robe of faded color, worn thin at both sides,

In a robe of faded color, with sides falling apart

Clad in a garment of faded color with tattered sides,

وَحِذاءٍ أَوشَكَت تَفلَتُ مِنهُ قَدَماهُ

وَحِذاءٍ أَوشَكَت تَفلَتُ مِنهُ قَدَماهُ

قالَ صِف جاهي فَفي وَصفِكَ لي لِلشِعرِ جاهُ

قالَ صِف جاهي فَفي وَصفِكَ لي لِلشِعرِ جاهُ

and shoes from which his feet were nearly slipping.

And shoes about to slip off his feet

And wearing shoes from which his feet nearly slipped free.

He said: Describe my glory; in your praise of me, poetry gains glory.

He said, describe my glory, for in your description, poetry finds glory

He said, "Describe my glory, for in praising me, poetry gains prestige.

إِنَّ لِيَ القَصرُ الَّذي لا تَبلُغُ الطَيرُ ذُراهُ

إِنَّ لِيَ القَصرُ الَّذي لا تَبلُغُ الطَيرُ ذُراهُ

وَلِيَ الرَوضُ الَّذي يَعبَقُ بِالمِسكِ ثَراهُ

وَلِيَ الرَوضُ الَّذي يَعبَقُ بِالمِسكِ ثَراهُ

Mine is the palace whose heights no bird can reach,

I have the palace that no bird can reach its height

Mine is the palace whose summits the birds cannot reach,

and mine the garden whose soil breathes musk,

And I have the garden that is fragrant with musk in its soil

Mine is the garden whose soil is fragrant with musk,

وَلِيَ الجَيشُ الَّذي تَرشُحُ بِالمَوتِ ظِباهُ

وَلِيَ الجَيشُ الَّذي تَرشُحُ بِالمَوتِ ظِباهُ

وَلِيَ الغاباتُ وَالشُمُّ الرَواسي وَالمِياهُ

وَلِيَ الغاباتُ وَالشُمُّ الرَواسي وَالمِياهُ

and mine the army whose sword-edges ooze death,

And I have the army from which death drips from its spears

Mine is the army whose blades drip with death,

and mine the forests, the lofty, steadfast mountains, and the waters.

And I have the forests and the high summits and the waters

And mine are the forests, the towering mountains, and the waters.

وَلِيَ النسُ وَبُؤسُ الناسِ مِنّي وَالرَفاهُ

وَلِيَ النسُ وَبُؤسُ الناسِ مِنّي وَالرَفاهُ

إِنَّ هَذا الكَونَ مُلكي أَنا في الكَونِ إِلَهُ

إِنَّ هَذا الكَونَ مُلكي أَنا في الكَونِ إِلَهُ

The people are mine; their misery and prosperity come from me.

And I have joy and people's misery comes from me and their comfort

The people are mine; their misery flows from me, as does their ease.

This universe is my kingdom; in this universe I am a god.

Indeed this universe is my kingdom, I am its god in the universe

Indeed, this universe is my domain; I am a god within it."

ضَحِكَ الشعِرُ مِمّا سَمِعَتهُ أُذُناهُ

ضَحِكَ الشعِرُ مِمّا سَمِعَتهُ أُذُناهُ

وَتَمَنّى أَن يُداجي فَعَصَتهُ شَفَتاهُ

وَتَمَنّى أَن يُداجي فَعَصَتهُ شَفَتاهُ

The poet laughed at what his ears had heard,

The poet laughed at what his ears had heard

The poet laughed at what his ears had heard,

and wished to flatter, but his lips defied him.

And wished to talk back but his lips disobeyed him

And he wished to flatter, but his lips refused to obey.

قالَ إِنّي لا أَرى الأَمرَ كَما أَنتَ تَراهُ

قالَ إِنّي لا أَرى الأَمرَ كَما أَنتَ تَراهُ

إِنَّ مُلكِيَ قَد طَوى مُلكَكَ عَنِّيَ وَمَحاهُ

إِنَّ مُلكِيَ قَد طَوى مُلكَكَ عَنِّيَ وَمَحاهُ

He said: I do not see the matter as you see it.

He said, I don't see things as you do

He said, "I do not see things as you see them,

My kingdom has hidden yours from me and erased it.

My kingdom has folded over your kingdom and erased it

For my kingdom has eclipsed yours and wiped it away.

القَصرُ يُنبِئُ عَن مَهارَةِ شاعِرٍ

القَصرُ يُنبِئُ عَن مَهارَةِ شاعِرٍ

لَبِقٍ وَيُخبِرُ بَعدَهُ عَنكا

لَبِقٍ وَيُخبِرُ بَعدَهُ عَنكا

The palace tells of a poet's skill,

The palace tells of a refined and eloquent poet's skill

The palace speaks of the skill of an artist,

an adroit poet's, and only afterward of you.

And informs about your distance from it

A master builder, and only speaks of you secondarily.

هُوَ لِلأُلى يَدورونَ كُنهَ جَمالِهِ

هُوَ لِلأُلى يَدورونَ كُنهَ جَمالِهِ

فَإِذا مَضَوا فَكَأَنَهُ دُكّا

فَإِذا مَضَوا فَكَأَنَهُ دُكّا

It belongs to those who roam through the depths of its beauty;

It is for the elite who frequent it and circle around its beauty

It belongs to those who grasp the essence of its beauty,

when they depart, it is as though it were razed.

So when they pass, it is as if it never existed

For if they depart, it is as if it were turned to dust.

سَتَزولُ أَنتَ وَلا يَزولُ جَلالُهُ

سَتَزولُ أَنتَ وَلا يَزولُ جَلالُهُ

كَالفُلكِ إِن خَلَت فُلكا

كَالفُلكِ إِن خَلَت فُلكا

You will pass away, but its grandeur will not,

You will perish while its majesty remains

You will pass away, but its majesty will remain,

like a ship that, even empty, remains a ship.

Like a ship, if it becomes empty of sailors

Like a ship that remains a ship even when empty.

وَالرَوضُ إِنَّ الرَوضَ شاعِرٍ

وَالرَوضُ إِنَّ الرَوضَ شاعِرٍ

سَمحٍ طَروبٍ رائِقٍ جَزلِ

سَمحٍ طَروبٍ رائِقٍ جَزلِ

And the garden—the garden is a poet,

The garden, the garden is of a generous poet

And the garden—truly the garden belongs to a poet,

generous, joyous, serene, and rich in utterance,

Of pleasant composition and exquisite sensibility

Generous, joyous, pure, and eloquent,

وَشى حَواشِيَهُ وَزَيَّنَ أَرضَهُ

وَشى حَواشِيَهُ وَزَيَّنَ أَرضَهُ

بِرَوائِعِ الأَلوانِ وَالظِلِّ

بِرَوائِعِ الأَلوانِ وَالظِلِّ

who embroidered its borders and adorned its earth

He lined its edges and adorned its soil

Who embroidered its borders and adorned its grounds

with wondrous colors and shade.

With the wonders of color and shade

With masterpieces of color and shade.

لِفراشَةٍ تَحي لَهُ وَلِنَحلَةٍ

لِفراشَةٍ تَحي لَهُ وَلِنَحلَةٍ

تَحيا بِهِ وَلِشاعِرٍ مِثلي

تَحيا بِهِ وَلِشاعِرٍ مِثلي

It belongs to a butterfly that lives for it, and to a bee

For a butterfly that lives for it and a bee

It belongs to the butterfly that lives for it, and the bee

that lives on it, and to a poet like me,

That lives by it and a poet like me

That survives by it, and to a poet like me.

وَلِديمَةٍ تَذري عَلَيهِ دُموعَها

وَلِديمَةٍ تَذري عَلَيهِ دُموعَها

كَما تَقيهِ غَوائِلَ المَحلِ

كَما تَقيهِ غَوائِلَ المَحلِ

and to a steady rain that sheds its tears upon it

And a doe that sheds her tears over it

It belongs to the rain cloud that sheds its tears upon it,

as it shields it from the ravages of drought,

As showers protect its buds

To protect it from the ravages of drought.

وَلِبُلبُلٍ غَرِدٍ يُساجِلُ بُلبُلاً

وَلِبُلبُلٍ غَرِدٍ يُساجِلُ بُلبُلاً

غَرداً وَلِلنَسَماتِ

غَرداً وَلِلنَسَماتِ

and to a singing nightingale trading songs with another

And a nightingale singing, conversing with nightingales

It belongs to the singing nightingale answering another nightingale

singing nightingale, and to the breezes.

With song, and for the light breezes

In song, and to the gentle breezes.

فَإِذا مَضى زَمَنُ الرَبيعِ أَضَعتَهُ

فَإِذا مَضى زَمَنُ الرَبيعِ أَضَعتَهُ

وَأَقامَ في قَلبي وَفي عَقلي

وَأَقامَ في قَلبي وَفي عَقلي

When springtime passes, you lose it,

So when the spring season passes, you neglect it

If the season of spring passes, you have lost it,

but it remains in my heart and in my mind.

While it remains in my heart and my mind

While it dwells eternally in my heart and mind.

وَالجَيشُ مَعقودٌ لِواأُكَ فَوقَهُ

وَالجَيشُ مَعقودٌ لِواأُكَ فَوقَهُ

ما دُمتَ تَكسوهُ وَتُطعِمُهُ

ما دُمتَ تَكسوهُ وَتُطعِمُهُ

Your banner is fastened above the army

The army is devoted to you for what you clothe it and feed it

And the army, over which your banner is raised,

as long as you clothe and feed it.

Its obedience is for bread and its loyalty is its leash

Is yours only so long as you clothe and feed it.

لِلخُبزِ طاعَتُهُ وَحُسنُ وَلائِهِ

لِلخُبزِ طاعَتُهُ وَحُسنُ وَلائِهِ

هُوَ لاتُهُ الكُبرى وَبَرهَمُهُ

هُوَ لاتُهُ الكُبرى وَبَرهَمُهُ

Its obedience and faithful allegiance belong to bread:

It is your greatest tool and your strike force

Its obedience and loyalty are pledged to bread;

bread is its great al-Lat and its Brahma.

But if it starves in the shade of your throne one night

That is its greatest idol and its god.

فَإِذا يَجوعُ بِظِلِّ عَرشِكَ لَيلَةً

فَإِذا يَجوعُ بِظِلِّ عَرشِكَ لَيلَةً

فَهُوَ الَّذي بِيَدَيهِ يُحَطِّمُهُ

فَهُوَ الَّذي بِيَدَيهِ يُحَطِّمُهُ

If it goes hungry one night beneath your throne,

It is the one with its swords that will shatter you

If it goes hungry beneath your throne for a single night,

it will smash that throne with its own hands.

You have its swords from it but tomorrow

It will be the one to smash that throne with its own hands.

لَكَ مِنهُ أَسيُفُهُ وَلَكِن في غَدٍ

لَكَ مِنهُ أَسيُفُهُ وَلَكِن في غَدٍ

لِسِواكَ أَسيُفُهُ وَأَسهُمُهُ

لِسِواكَ أَسيُفُهُ وَأَسهُمُهُ

Its swords are yours, but tomorrow

Its swords and arrows will be for your toothbrush

Today its swords are yours, but tomorrow,

its swords and arrows will belong to someone else.

Do you think it marched to battle exultant

Its swords and arrows will belong to another.

أَتُراهُ سارَ إِلى الوَغى مُتَهَلِّلاً

أَتُراهُ سارَ إِلى الوَغى مُتَهَلِّلاً

لَولا الَّذي الشُعَراءُ تَنظِمُهُ

لَولا الَّذي الشُعَراءُ تَنظِمُهُ

Do you think it would march to battle beaming,

If not for what poets compose about it

Do you think it would march to war rejoicing,

were it not for what poets compose?

And if it hums is it not but a poem

Were it not for the anthems poets compose?

وَإِذا تَرَنَّمَ هَل بِغَيرِ قَصيدَةٍ

وَإِذا تَرَنَّمَ هَل بِغَيرِ قَصيدَةٍ

مِن شاعِرٍ مِثلي تَرَنُّمُهُ

مِن شاعِرٍ مِثلي تَرَنُّمُهُ

And when it sings, is its song anything but a poem

From a poet like me that makes it hum

And when it chants, does it chant anything but a poem

by a poet like me?

You grasped the sea by its pearl

Written by a poet like me?

وَالبَحرُ قَد ظَفِرَت يَداكَ بِدُرِّهِ

وَالبَحرُ قَد ظَفِرَت يَداكَ بِدُرِّهِ

وَحَصاهُ لَكِن هَل مَلَكتَ هَديرُهُ

وَحَصاهُ لَكِن هَل مَلَكتَ هَديرُهُ

And the sea—your hands have won its pearls

But did you possess its roar?

And the sea—your hands may have seized its pearls

and its pebbles; but have you possessed its roar?

It belongs to the night pouring over it its devotion

And its pebbles, but do you possess its roar?

هُوَ لِلدُجى يُلقي عَلَيهِ خُشوعَهُ

هُوَ لِلدُجى يُلقي عَلَيهِ خُشوعَهُ

وَالصُبحُ يَسكُبُ وَهوَ يَضحَكُ نورُهُ

وَالصُبحُ يَسكُبُ وَهوَ يَضحَكُ نورُهُ

It belongs to the darkness that casts its reverence upon it,

And morning spilling its light while it laughs

It belongs to the night, which casts its reverence upon it,

and to dawn, pouring its light as it smiles.

Did you mix its waters? Did you dye

And to the morning, which pours its laughing light.

أَمَرَجتَ أَنتَ مِياهَهُ أَصَبَغتَ أَن

أَمَرَجتَ أَنتَ مِياهَهُ أَصَبَغتَ أَن

تَ رِمالَهُ أَجَبَلتَ أَنتَ صُخورَهُ

تَ رِمالَهُ أَجَبَلتَ أَنتَ صُخورَهُ

Did you set its waters flowing? Did you color

Its sands? Did you shape its rocks?

Did you churn its waters? Did you dye

its sands yourself? Did you mold its rocks?

It belongs to the winds that shake it and stir it

Its sands? Did you shape its rocky shores?

هُوَ لِلرِياحِ تَهُزُّهُ وَتُثيرُهُ

هُوَ لِلرِياحِ تَهُزُّهُ وَتُثيرُهُ

وَالشُهبُ تَسمَعُ في الظَلامِ زَئيرَهُ

وَالشُهبُ تَسمَعُ في الظَلامِ زَئيرَهُ

It belongs to the winds that rock and rouse it,

And the comets hear its growl in the darkness

It belongs to the winds that stir and shake it,

and to the shooting stars that hear its roar in the darkness,

It belongs to the birds enchanted with it

And to the stars that hear its roar in the dark.

لِلطَيرِ هائِمَةً بِهِ مَفتونَةً

لِلطَيرِ هائِمَةً بِهِ مَفتونَةً

لا لِلَّذين يُرَوِّعونَ طُيورَهُ

لا لِلَّذين يُرَوِّعونَ طُيورَهُ

to the birds enamored of it, enchanted,

Not those who frighten its birds

It belongs to the birds, wandering and enchanted,

not to those who frighten its birds;

It belongs to the enchanted poetry it whimsically creates

Not to those who frighten its flocks away.

لِلشعِرِ المَفتونِ يُخلَقُ لاهِياً

لِلشعِرِ المَفتونِ يُخلَقُ لاهِياً

مِن مَوجِهِ حوراً وَيَعشَقُ حورَهُ

مِن مَوجِهِ حوراً وَيَعشَقُ حورَهُ

to the enchanted poet, who playfully creates

Maidens from its waves that it falls in love with their maidens

It belongs to the captivated poet, who creates playfully

houris from its waves and loves those houris;

And those who see in it a symbol of their existence

Nymphs from its waves, and then falls in love with them.

وَلِمَن يُشاهِدُ فيهِ رَمزَ كَيانِهِ

وَلِمَن يُشاهِدُ فيهِ رَمزَ كَيانِهِ

وَلِمَن يُجيدُ لِغَيرِهِ تَصويرَهُ

وَلِمَن يُجيدُ لِغَيرِهِ تَصويرَهُ

and to whoever sees in it the symbol of his own being,

And those who know how to portray it for others

It belongs to the one who sees in it the symbol of his being,

and to whoever can portray it well for others.

O you who fishes pearls from its depths

And who can skillfully depict it for others.

يا مَن يَصيدُ الدُرَّ مِن أَعمقِهِ

يا مَن يَصيدُ الدُرَّ مِن أَعمقِهِ

أَخَذَت يَداكَ مِنَ الجَليلِ حَقيرَهُ

أَخَذَت يَداكَ مِنَ الجَليلِ حَقيرَهُ

O you who fish for pearls in its deepest reaches,

Your hands took its trivial part from the momentous

O you who fish for pearls from its depths,

your hands have taken the paltry part of the sublime.

Do not claim it for it cannot be possessed, it is

Your hands have taken the trivial from the magnificent.

لا تَدَّعيهِ فَلَيسَ يُملَكُ إِنَّهُ

لا تَدَّعيهِ فَلَيسَ يُملَكُ إِنَّهُ

كَالرَوضِ جَهدُكَ أَن تَشِمَّ عَبيرَهُ

كَالرَوضِ جَهدُكَ أَن تَشِمَّ عَبيرَهُ

Do not claim it: it cannot be owned; it is

Like the garden, your effort is to smell its fragrance

Do not claim it, for it cannot be owned;

like the garden—your utmost is to breathe its fragrance.

And I passed the high mountain but its beauty

Like the garden, your limit is but to smell its fragrance.

وَمَرَرتُ بِالجَبَلِ الأَشَمِّ فَما زَوى

وَمَرَرتُ بِالجَبَلِ الأَشَمِّ فَما زَوى

عَنّي مَحاسِنَهُ وَلَستُ أَميرا

عَنّي مَحاسِنَهُ وَلَستُ أَميرا

I passed by the lofty mountain, and it did not hide

Did not conceal itself from me and I am no prince

I passed by the towering mountain, and it did not hide

its beauties from me, though I am no prince.

And you passed but did not see its rocks

Its beauties from me, though I am no prince.

وَمَرَرتَ أَنتَ فَما رَأَيتَ صُخورَهُ

وَمَرَرتَ أَنتَ فَما رَأَيتَ صُخورَهُ

ضَحِكَت وَلا رَقَصَت لَدَيكَ حُبورا

ضَحِكَت وَلا رَقَصَت لَدَيكَ حُبورا

You passed by, yet you did not see its rocks

Laughing for you or its does dancing for you

Yet you passed by and did not see its rocks

laugh or dance joyfully before you.

And I relayed to its ants what you claim

Laugh, nor did they dance before you in joy.

وَلَقَد نَقَلتُ لِنَملِهِ ما تَدَّعي

وَلَقَد نَقَلتُ لِنَملِهِ ما تَدَّعي

فَتَعَجَّبَت مِمّا حَكَيتَ كَثيرا

فَتَعَجَّبَت مِمّا حَكَيتَ كَثيرا

I told its ants what you claim,

They were astonished at how much you prattled

I told its ants of your claims,

and they marveled greatly at what you had said.

Your friend said, can he be more stubborn

And they marveled greatly at what I recounted.

قالَت صَديقُكَ ما يَكونُ أَقَشعَماً

قالَت صَديقُكَ ما يَكونُ أَقَشعَماً

أَم أَرقَماً أَم ضَيغَماً هَيصورا

أَم أَرقَماً أَم ضَيغَماً هَيصورا

They said: What is your friend? An old eagle,

Or tattooed or a babbler, a fabricator

They asked, 'What is this friend of yours? Is he a vulture?'

or a speckled serpent, or a mighty lion?

Does he spin for you like the spider its webs

'Or a serpent, or a ravenous lion?'

أَيَحوكُ مِثلَ العَنكَبوتِ بُيوتَهُ

أَيَحوكُ مِثلَ العَنكَبوتِ بُيوتَهُ

حَوكاً وَيَبني كَالنُسورِ وُكورا

حَوكاً وَيَبني كَالنُسورِ وُكورا

Does he weave his houses like a spider,

Spinning, and build like eagles their nests

'Does he weave his homes like a spider,'

weaving them, and build nests like eagles?

Does he fill the valleys with muddy flows like dawn

'Or build nests like the eagles?'

هَل يَملَءُ الأَغوارَ تِبراً كَالضُحى

هَل يَملَءُ الأَغوارَ تِبراً كَالضُحى

وَيَرُدُّ كَالغَيثِ المَواتَ نَضيرا

وَيَرُدُّ كَالغَيثِ المَواتَ نَضيرا

Does he fill the hollows with gold like morning light,

And make barren places lush like rain

'Does he fill the valleys with gold like the morning sun,'

and restore dead land to greenness like rain?

Does he roll up like the night the plains and hills

'And like the rain, turn dead lands green?'

أَيَلُفُّ كَاللَيلِ الأَباطِحِ وَالرُبى

أَيَلُفُّ كَاللَيلِ الأَباطِحِ وَالرُبى

وَالمَنزِلَ المَعمورَ وَالمهجورا

وَالمَنزِلَ المَعمورَ وَالمهجورا

Does he enfold, like night, the valleys and hills,

The inhabited dwellings and the abandoned

'Does he enwrap the valleys and hills like the night,'

the inhabited dwelling and the abandoned one?

So I told it no, and it said to name it

'Both the inhabited home and the abandoned ruins?'

فَأَجَبتُها كَلّا فَقالَت سَمِّهِ

فَأَجَبتُها كَلّا فَقالَت سَمِّهِ

في غَيرِ خَوفٍ كائِناً مَغرورا

في غَيرِ خَوفٍ كائِناً مَغرورا

I answered them: No. They said: Call him,

Without fear, an arrogant fabricator

I answered them, 'No.' So they said, 'Name him,'

without fear, an arrogant creature.

The sultan boiled with rage, what a boil

'Fearlessly, as a deluded creature.'"

فَاِحتَدَمَ السُلطانُ أَيَّ اِحتِدام

فَاِحتَدَمَ السُلطانُ أَيَّ اِحتِدام

وَلاحَ حُبُّ البَطشِ في مُقلَتَيه

وَلاحَ حُبُّ البَطشِ في مُقلَتَيه

The sultan flared up in furious rage,

And the love of tyranny shone in his pupils

The Sultan raged with a furious anger,

and a lust for violence gleamed in his eyes.

He called to the executioner, bring the sword

And the lust for violence gleamed in his eyes.

وَصاحَ بِالجَلّادِ هاتِ الحُسام

وَصاحَ بِالجَلّادِ هاتِ الحُسام

فَأَسرَعَ الجَلّادُ يَسعى إِلَيه

فَأَسرَعَ الجَلّادُ يَسعى إِلَيه

He shouted to the executioner: Bring the sword!

The executioner rushed to him

He shouted to the executioner, "Bring the sword!"

The executioner hurried toward him.

He said, sever the head of this boy

The executioner hastened toward him.

فَقالَ دَحرِج رَأسَ هَذا الغُلام

فَقالَ دَحرِج رَأسَ هَذا الغُلام

فَرَأسُهُ عِبءٌ عَلى مَنكِبَيه

فَرَأسُهُ عِبءٌ عَلى مَنكِبَيه

He said: Roll this boy's head from him;

For his head is a burden on his shoulders

He commanded, "Strike off this boy's head,"

his head is a burden upon his shoulders.

The sword is forged for harvesting necks

"For it has become a burden upon his shoulders."

قَد طُبِعَ السَيفُ لِحَزِّ الرِقاب

قَد طُبِعَ السَيفُ لِحَزِّ الرِقاب

وَهَذِهِ رَقبَةُ ثَرثارِ

وَهَذِهِ رَقبَةُ ثَرثارِ

The sword was forged to sever necks,

And this is the neck of a blabbermouth

"The sword was forged for severing necks,"

and this is a babbler's neck.

I will kill him and toss his body to the dogs

"And this is the neck of a babbler."

أُقتُلهُ وَاِطَرَح جِسمَهُ لِلكِلاب

أُقتُلهُ وَاِطَرَح جِسمَهُ لِلكِلاب

وَلتَذهَبِ الروحُ إِلى النارِ

وَلتَذهَبِ الروحُ إِلى النارِ

Kill him and throw his body to the dogs,

And let his soul go to hell

"Kill him and cast his body to the dogs,"

and let his soul go to the Fire.

Hearing and obeying, my lord, and the anger

"And let his soul descend to Hell."

سَمعاً وَطَوعاً سَيِّدي وَاِنتَضى

سَمعاً وَطَوعاً سَيِّدي وَاِنتَضى

عَضباً يَموجُ المَوتُ في شَفرَتَيه

عَضباً يَموجُ المَوتُ في شَفرَتَيه

I hear and obey, my lord! And he unsheathed

Surged like death in his blade

"I hear and obey, my master." He drew

a keen blade, death surging along its two edges.

And it was but a blink before the head flew off his shoulders

A sharp blade, death rippling along its edge.

وَلَم يَكُن إِلّا كَبَرقٍ أَضا

وَلَم يَكُن إِلّا كَبَرقٍ أَضا

حَتّى أَطارَ الرَأسَ عَن مَنكِبَيه

حَتّى أَطارَ الرَأسَ عَن مَنكِبَيه

It was no more than a flash of lightning

The poet fell prostrate, scratching the ground with both hands

It was but a flash of lightning,

before he sent the head flying from his shoulders.

As if searching for his head

That sent the head flying from the shoulders.

فَسَقَطَ الشاعِرُ مُعرَورِضا

فَسَقَطَ الشاعِرُ مُعرَورِضا

يُخَدِّشُ الأَرضَ بِكِلتا يَدَيه

يُخَدِّشُ الأَرضَ بِكِلتا يَدَيه

The poet fell sprawling,

The sultan laughed at his bowing

The poet collapsed in a heap,

scratching the earth with both his hands,

Then stood whispering to himself

Clawing the earth with both hands,

كَأَنَما يَبحَثُ عَن رَأسِهِ

كَأَنَما يَبحَثُ عَن رَأسِهِ

فَاِستَضحَكَ السُلطانُ مِن سَجدَتِه

فَاِستَضحَكَ السُلطانُ مِن سَجدَتِه

as though searching for his head.

One with a paradise became without his paradise

As though searching for his lost head;

The sultan laughed at his prostration,

Yes, thus the poet perished

And the Sultan laughed at his posture,

ثُمَّ اِستَوى يَهمُسُ في نَفسِهِ

ثُمَّ اِستَوى يَهمُسُ في نَفسِهِ

ذو جَنَّةٍ أَمسى بِلا جَنَّتِه

ذو جَنَّةٍ أَمسى بِلا جَنَّتِه

then sat upright, whispering to himself:

As the sinner wrongdoer perishes

Then settled back, whispering to himself:

The owner of a garden is now without his garden.

So no bird was disturbed in a garden

"The master of the garden is now without his garden."

أَجَل هَكَذا هَلَكَ الشاعِرُ

أَجَل هَكَذا هَلَكَ الشاعِرُ

كَما يَهلِكُ الآثِمُ المُذنِبُ

كَما يَهلِكُ الآثِمُ المُذنِبُ

Yes, thus the poet perished,

Nor a star extinguished in the sky

Yes, and so the poet perished,

as the sinful and guilty perish.

Nor the lush trees grieved

As the sinful criminal perishes.

فَما غَصَّ في رَوضَةٍ طائِرٌ

فَما غَصَّ في رَوضَةٍ طائِرٌ

وَلَم يَنطَفِئ في السَما كَوكَبُ

وَلَم يَنطَفِئ في السَما كَوكَبُ

No bird choked in a garden,

Nor the murmuring stream saddened

No bird choked on its song in the garden,

and no star went out in the sky;

And the killer was compensated for his murder

Nor did a star wink out in the sky.

وَلا جَزِعَ الشَجَرُ الناضِرُ

وَلا جَزِعَ الشَجَرُ الناضِرُ

وَلا اِكتَأَبَ الجَدوَلُ المُطرَبُ

وَلا اِكتَأَبَ الجَدوَلُ المُطرَبُ

the flourishing trees felt no alarm,

With abundant wealth and smooth cheeks

The blooming trees did not mourn,

and the joyous brook did not grieve.

So his despicable nature said to him

Nor did the musical brook grow melancholy.

وَكوفِئَ عَن قَتلِهِ القاتِلُ

وَكوفِئَ عَن قَتلِهِ القاتِلُ

بِمالٍ جَزيلٍ وَخَدٍّ أَسيل

بِمالٍ جَزيلٍ وَخَدٍّ أَسيل

The killer was rewarded for killing him

Would that I had a victim each day

The killer was rewarded for his deed,

with abundant wealth and a smooth cheek.

On an obscure night with no stars

With abundant gold and a beauty's smooth cheek.

فَقالَ لَهُ خُلقُهُ السافِلِ

فَقالَ لَهُ خُلقُهُ السافِلِ

أَلا لَيتَ لي كُلَّ يَومٍ قَتيل

أَلا لَيتَ لي كُلَّ يَومٍ قَتيل

His base nature said to him:

Death crept into the palace

So his base nature whispered to him,

Oh, would that I had a victim every day!

Between the guards' swords and arrows

"Would that I had a victim every day!"

في لَيلَةٍ طامِسَةِ الأَنجُمِ

في لَيلَةٍ طامِسَةِ الأَنجُمِ

تَسَلَّلَ المَوتُ إِلى القَصرِ

تَسَلَّلَ المَوتُ إِلى القَصرِ

On a night that blotted out the stars,

And the Indian iron swords

On a night when the stars were blotted out,

death crept into the palace,

To the bed of the greatest king

Death crept silently into the palace,

بَينَ حِرابِ الجُندِ وَالأَسهُمِ

بَينَ حِرابِ الجُندِ وَالأَسهُمِ

وَالأَسيُفِ الهِندِيَّةِ الحُمرِ

وَالأَسيُفِ الهِندِيَّةِ الحُمرِ

between the soldiers' spears and arrows

To the prince of land and sea

Slipping past the soldiers' spears and arrows,

and the red Indian swords,

So he left the world while in it still

And the blood-red Indian swords.

إِلى سَريرِ المُلكِ الأَعظَمِ

إِلى سَريرِ المُلكِ الأَعظَمِ

إِلى أَميرِ البَرِّ وَالبَحرِ

إِلى أَميرِ البَرِّ وَالبَحرِ

to the supreme throne of sovereignty,

Were wines and songs

To the bed of the supreme monarch,

to the ruler of land and sea.

The mountain did not extend its grief over him

To the lord of land and sea.

فَفارَقَ الدُنيا وَلَمّا تَزَل

فَفارَقَ الدُنيا وَلَمّا تَزَل

فيها خُمورٌ وَأَغاريدُ

فيها خُمورٌ وَأَغاريدُ

He departed this world while there were still

Nor did the lute waste away in the garden

He departed this world while it still held

wines and songs within it.

In the oblivion of death and wear of time

Wine and song to be enjoyed.

فَلَم يَمِد حُزناً عَلَيهِ الجَبَل

فَلَم يَمِد حُزناً عَلَيهِ الجَبَل

وَلا ذَوى في الرَوضِ أُملودُ

وَلا ذَوى في الرَوضِ أُملودُ

The mountain did not sway in grief for him,

The sultan and poet meet

The mountain did not shake with grief for him,

nor did a tender shoot wither in the garden.

One without glory and one without

Nor did a single branch wither in the garden.

في حَومَةِ المَوتِ وَظِلِّ البِلى

في حَومَةِ المَوتِ وَظِلِّ البِلى

قَدِ يلتَقى السُلطانُ وَالشاعِرُ

قَدِ يلتَقى السُلطانُ وَالشاعِرُ

In death's arena, beneath decay's shadow,

Humiliation, so neither victor nor defeated

In the surge of death and the shadow of decay,

the sultan and the poet may meet:

The fates embraced those destinies

The Sultan and the Poet eventually meet.

هَذا بِلا مَجدٍ وَهَذا بِلا

هَذا بِلا مَجدٍ وَهَذا بِلا

ذُلٍّ فَلا باغٍ وَلا ثائِرُ

ذُلٍّ فَلا باغٍ وَلا ثائِرُ

one without glory, the other without

And the oppressed and oppressor kept company

The one without glory, and the other without

abasement—neither oppressor nor rebel.

The poet does not mind being killed

Humiliation—no oppressor remains, nor rebel.

عانَقَتِ الأَسمالُ تِلكَ الحِلى

عانَقَتِ الأَسمالُ تِلكَ الحِلى

وَاِصطَحَبَ المَقهورُ وَالقاهِرُ

وَاِصطَحَبَ المَقهورُ وَالقاهِرُ

The rags embraced those jewels,

Beyond the grave there are no swords or spears

The rags embraced the royal jewels,

and the oppressed and oppressor became companions.

And the king does not care to be disgraced

As the conquered and the conqueror became companions.

لا يَجزَعُ الشاعِرُ أَن يُقتَلا

لا يَجزَعُ الشاعِرُ أَن يُقتَلا

لَيسَ وَراءَ القَبرِ سَيفٌ وَرُمح

لَيسَ وَراءَ القَبرِ سَيفٌ وَرُمح

The poet does not fear being killed:

Blame and praise are the same to the dead

The poet does not fear being killed,

beyond the grave there is no sword or spear.

And generations passed in succession

For beyond the grave there is no sword or spear.

وَلا يُبالي ذاكَ أَن يُعذَلا

وَلا يُبالي ذاكَ أَن يُعذَلا

سِيّانِ عِندَ المَيتِ ذَمٌّ وَمَدح

سِيّانِ عِندَ المَيتِ ذَمٌّ وَمَدح

Nor does the other care if he is reproached:

One disappearing, another emerging

And the other cares not for blame;

to the dead, blame and praise are equal.

I decayed upon the lofty palace yet

To the dead, praise and scorn are one and the same.

وَتَوالَتِ الأَجيالُ تَطَّرِدُ

وَتَوالَتِ الأَجيالُ تَطَّرِدُ

جيلٌ يَغيبُ وَآخَرٌ يَفِدُ

جيلٌ يَغيبُ وَآخَرٌ يَفِدُ

Generations followed one another unceasingly:

Neither the walls stand nor the pillars

Generations followed, one after another,

one generation disappears, and another arrives.

And I walked upon the dense army yet

One fading away as another arrives.

أَخَنتُ عَلى القَصرِ المَنيفِ فَلا

أَخَنتُ عَلى القَصرِ المَنيفِ فَلا

الجُدرانُ قائِمَةٌ وَلا العُمُدُ

الجُدرانُ قائِمَةٌ وَلا العُمُدُ

They ravaged the lofty palace, leaving neither

No branded horses or armor remain

Time wore down the lofty palace, leaving

walls standing nor pillars.

They took those who did right and those who did wrong

Neither standing walls nor pillars.

وَمَشَت عَلى الجيشِ الكَثيفِ فَلا

وَمَشَت عَلى الجيشِ الكَثيفِ فَلا

خَيلٌ مُسَوَّمَةٌ وَلا زُردُ

خَيلٌ مُسَوَّمَةٌ وَلا زُردُ

They passed over the dense army, leaving neither

And carried those who suffered and those who prospered

And oblivion walked over the vast army, leaving

marked horses nor coats of mail.

And those whose being was melted by love

Neither fine horses nor coats of mail.

ذَهَبَت بِمَن صَلُحوا وَمَن فَسَدوا

ذَهَبَت بِمَن صَلُحوا وَمَن فَسَدوا

وَمَضَت بِمَن تَعيسوا وَمَن سَعِدوا

وَمَضَت بِمَن تَعيسوا وَمَن سَعِدوا

They swept away the upright and the corrupt,

And those whose hearts were corroded by envy

It swept away the righteous and the corrupt,

and bore off the miserable and the happy,

And they folded kings without number

Taking the miserable and the happy alike.

وَبِمَن أَذابَ الحُبَّ مُهجَتَهُ

وَبِمَن أَذابَ الحُبَّ مُهجَتَهُ

وَبِمَن تَأَكَّلَ قَلبَهُ الحَسَدُ

وَبِمَن تَأَكَّلَ قَلبَهُ الحَسَدُ

and those whose souls love had melted,

As if they never existed on earth

Those whose souls were melted by love,

and those whose hearts envy had devoured.

And the murdered poet remains

And those whose hearts were consumed by envy.

وَطَوَت مُلوكاً ما لَهُم عَدَدٌ

وَطَوَت مُلوكاً ما لَهُم عَدَدٌ

فَكَأَنَّهُم في الأَرضِ ما وُجِدوا

فَكَأَنَّهُم في الأَرضِ ما وُجِدوا

They swept away kings beyond counting,

His words as if they are eternity

It buried countless kings,

as though they had never existed on earth.

The old man touches in its aspects

As if they had never existed on this earth.

وَالشاعِرُ المَقتولُ باقِيَةٌ

وَالشاعِرُ المَقتولُ باقِيَةٌ

أَقوالُهُ فَكَأَنَّها الأَبَدُ

أَقوالُهُ فَكَأَنَّها الأَبَدُ

Yet, for the murdered poet, there remain

Images of passion and nascent wisdom

Yet the murdered poet remains;

his words, as though they were eternity itself.

His words endure, as if they were eternity itself.

الشَيخُ يَلمُسُ في جَوانِبِها

الشَيخُ يَلمُسُ في جَوانِبِها

صُوَرَ الهَوى وَالحِكَمَةَ الوَلدُ

صُوَرَ الهَوى وَالحِكَمَةَ الوَلدُ

The old man finds within their folds

The elder finds within their depths images of passion,

images of love, and the child finds wisdom.

And the youth finds wisdom.