ياO مَجْلِساًa gathering أَيْنَعَتْblossomed مِنْهُfrom it أزاهِرهُits flowers
يا مَجْلِساً أَيْنَعَتْ مِنْهُ أزاهِرهُ
يُنْسيكَmakes you forget أَوَّلَهُits beginning فيin الحُسْنِbeauty آخِرُهُits ending
يُنْسيكَ أَوَّلَهُ في الحُسْنِ آخِرُهُ
O gathering whose flowers have blossomed forth!
O gathering place, from which its flowers have blossomed
The beauty of its ending makes you forget its beginning.
Its early beauty makes you forget its later beauty
لمdid not يَدْرِknow هَلْwhether باتَspent the night فِيهِin it نَاعِماًblissful جَذِلاًjoyful
لم يَدْرِ هَلْ باتَ فِيهِ نَاعِماً جَذِلاً
أوor باتَspent the night فيin جَنّةِthe garden of الفِردوسِParadise سامِرُهُits evening companion
أو باتَ في جَنّةِ الفِردوسِ سامِرُهُ
He could not tell whether he spent the night there, blissful and merry,
It doesn’t know whether it spent the night comfortably dozing
Or in the garden of Paradise—the gathering's evening companion.
Or in the gardens of Paradise did its night visitor spend the night
وَالعُودُand the oud يَخْفِقُvibrates مَثْناهُits second string وَمَثْلثُهُand its third string
وَالعُودُ يَخْفِقُ مَثْناهُ وَمَثْلثُهُ
والصُّبحُand dawn قدْalready غَرَّدتْwarbled فِيهin it عَصافِرُهُits sparrows
والصُّبحُ قدْ غَرَّدتْ فِيه عَصافِرُهُ
And the oud's second and third strings vibrate,
The oud quivers its strings and doubles and triples,
And dawn's sparrows have already warbled within it.
And morning birds have trilled out their songs in it
وَلِلْحِجارَةِand for the stones أَهْزَاجٌsongs إِذَاwhen نَطَقَتْthey speak
وَلِلْحِجارَةِ أَهْزَاجٌ إِذَا نَطَقَتْ
أَجابَهاanswers them مِنْfrom among طُيُورِbirds of البَرِّthe land ناقرُهُits pecking bird
أَجابَها مِنْ طُيُورِ البَرِّ ناقرُهُ
And the stones have songs: whenever they speak,
And when the stones speak they have conversations
Among the birds of the land, its pecking bird answers them.
Answered by the chattering desert birds
وحَنَّand sighed مِنْfrom بَيْنِهاamong them الكُثْبانُthe dunes عنْwith نَغَمٍmelodies
وحَنَّ مِنْ بَيْنِها الكُثْبانُ عنْ نَغَمٍ
تُبْدِيreveal عَنِabout الصَّبِّthe lovesick one ماwhat تُخْفيconceal ضَمائِرُهُhis innermost thoughts
تُبْدِي عَنِ الصَّبِّ ما تُخْفي ضَمائِرُهُ
And from among them the dunes sighed with melodies
And from between them the sand dunes sing a melody
That reveal what the lovesick man's innermost thoughts conceal.
Revealing from passion what their consciences conceal
كأنَّماas though العُودُthe oud فِيماin what بَيْنَناlies between us مَلكٌa king
كأنَّما العُودُ فِيما بَيْنَنا مَلكٌ
يَمشيwalks الهُويناat leisure وتَتْلوهُand follow him عَساكِرهُhis armies
يَمشي الهُوينا وتَتْلوهُ عَساكِرهُ
As though the oud there among us were a king,
It's as if between us the oud is an angel
Walking at leisure, with his armies following him.
Walking slowly as its soldiers follow it
كَأنَّهُas though he إِذْwhen تَمَطَّىstrutted وهْيَwhile they تَتْبعُهُfollow him
كَأنَّهُ إِذْ تَمَطَّى وهْيَ تَتْبعُهُ
كِسرىKhosrow بنُson of هُرمُزHormuz تَقْفُوهُfollow him أَساوِرُهhis cavalrymen
كِسرى بنُ هُرمُز تَقْفُوهُ أَساوِرُه
As though, when he strutted while they followed him,
As if when it struts and allure follows it
He were Khosrow, son of Hormuz, followed by his cavalry.
Khosrow Parviz follows it with his bracelets
ذاكَthat المَصُونُthe cherished one الذِيwhich لوif كانwere مُبْتَذلاًtreated as commonplace
ذاكَ المَصُونُ الذِي لو كان مُبْتَذلاً
ماnot كانwould يَكْسِرُbreak بَيْتَa line of الشّعْرِpoetry كاسِرُهُits breaker
ما كان يَكْسِرُ بَيْتَ الشّعْرِ كاسِرُهُ
That cherished one—were it treated as commonplace,
That well-guarded one who if he were revealed
Whoever broke it would not be breaking a line of verse.
None could compete with the maker of this poem
صَوْتٌa voice رَشِيقٌgraceful وَضَربٌand a rhythm لوif only يُراجِعُهُwould consult it
صَوْتٌ رَشِيقٌ وَضَربٌ لو يُراجِعُهُ
سَجْعُthe rhymed cadence of القَريضpoetry إذاwhen ضَلَّتْgo astray أَساطِرُهُits lines
سَجْعُ القَريض إذا ضَلَّتْ أَساطِرُهُ
A graceful voice and a rhythm—if only it were consulted
A gentle voice and rhythm - if it were to revise
By poetry's rhymed cadence when its lines go astray!
The prosody of poems when their lines go astray
لوif كانَwere زِرْيابُZiryab حَياًalive ثمthen أُسمِعَهُwere made to hear it
لو كانَ زِرْيابُ حَياً ثم أُسمِعَهُ
لماتَhe would die مِنْof حَسَدٍenvy إِذْsince لاnot يُناظِرُهُrival it
لماتَ مِنْ حَسَدٍ إِذْ لا يُناظِرُهُ
If Ziryab were alive and then were made to hear it,
If Ziryab were alive and heard it
He would die of envy, since he could not rival it.
He would die of envy for none can match it
Claude 2 is inferred from the historical translator configuration. The original record does not identify its model.