ألا فَتىً مِنْ صُرُوفِ الدَّهْرِ يَحْمِينِي

ألا فَتىً مِنْ صُرُوفِ الدَّهْرِ يَحْمِينِي

أَلا كَريمٌ عَلَى الأَيّامِ يُعْدِيني

أَلا كَريمٌ عَلَى الأَيّامِ يُعْدِيني

Is there no young man to shield me from the vicissitudes of Time?

Alas! Is there no valiant youth to shield me

Is there no noble man to aid me against the days?

From the vicissitudes of fate?

مَضى الْكِرامُ وَقَدْ خُلِّفْتُ بَعْدَهُمُ

مَضى الْكِرامُ وَقَدْ خُلِّفْتُ بَعْدَهُمُ

أَشْكُو الزَّمانَ إِلى مَنْ لَيْسَ يُشْكِينِي

أَشْكُو الزَّمانَ إِلى مَنْ لَيْسَ يُشْكِينِي

The noble have gone, and I have been left behind them,

The generous are gone, and I am left behind,

I complain of Time to one who does not redress my grievance.

Complaining of time to one who cannot aid.

كَمْ أَسْتَفِيدُ أخاً بَرًّا فَيُعْجِزُنِي

كَمْ أَسْتَفِيدُ أخاً بَرًّا فَيُعْجِزُنِي

وَأَبْتَغِي ماجِداً مَحْضاً فَيُعْيِيِني

وَأَبْتَغِي ماجِداً مَحْضاً فَيُعْيِيِني

How often I seek to gain a kindly brother, yet he eludes me;

How often I seek a loyal brother, but he fails me,

And seek a man of pure nobility, yet he wearies me.

And I pursue the glorious, but they elude me.

أَرْجُو السَّماحَةَ مِمَّنْ لَيْسَ يُسْعِفُنِي

أَرْجُو السَّماحَةَ مِمَّنْ لَيْسَ يُسْعِفُنِي

وَأَبْتَغِي الرِّفْدَ مِمَّنْ لا يُواسِينِي

وَأَبْتَغِي الرِّفْدَ مِمَّنْ لا يُواسِينِي

I hope for generosity from one who does not come to my aid,

I hope for kindness from the merciless,

And seek bounty from one who does not share with me.

And support from those who offer no solace.

لَوْ كانَ فِي الْفَضْلِ مِنْ خَيْرٍ لِصاحِبِهِ

لَوْ كانَ فِي الْفَضْلِ مِنْ خَيْرٍ لِصاحِبِهِ

مِنِّي فَحَتّامَ لا يَنْفَكُّ يَرْمِينِي

مِنِّي فَحَتّامَ لا يَنْفَكُّ يَرْمِينِي

If there were any good in merit for its possessor,

If merit brought good fortune to its owner,

From me—how long, then, will it keep assailing me?

Then my merit would free me from adversity.

لَوْ كانَ فِي الْفَضْلِ مِنْ خَيْرٍ لِصاحِبِهِ

لَوْ كانَ فِي الْفَضْلِ مِنْ خَيْرٍ لِصاحِبِهِ

لَكانَ فَضْلِيَ عَنْ ذِي النَّقْصِ يُغْنِينِي

لَكانَ فَضْلِيَ عَنْ ذِي النَّقْصِ يُغْنِينِي

If there were any good in merit for its possessor,

If merit brought good fortune to its owner,

My merit would have spared me dependence on one lacking it.

My merit would enrich the destitute.

يا هذِهِ قَدْ أَصابَ الدَّهْرُ حاجَتَهُ

يا هذِهِ قَدْ أَصابَ الدَّهْرُ حاجَتَهُ

مِنِّي فَحَتّامَ لا يَنْفَكُّ يَرْمِينِي

مِنِّي فَحَتّامَ لا يَنْفَكُّ يَرْمِينِي

O you there, Time has already gained what it wanted

O fate! You have attained your desire for me;

From me—how long, then, will it keep assailing me?

Ceaseless blows rain down without respite.

إِنْ كانَ يَجْهَدُ أَنْ أَصْلى نَوائِبَهُ

إِنْ كانَ يَجْهَدُ أَنْ أَصْلى نَوائِبَهُ

جَمْعاً فَواحِدَةٌ مِنْهُنَّ تَكْفِينِي

جَمْعاً فَواحِدَةٌ مِنْهُنَّ تَكْفِينِي

If it strives to make me burn in its calamities,

If you insist I pay for all your misfortunes,

All together—then a single one of them is enough for me.

One alone would suffice to crush me.

كَأَنَّهُ لَيْسَ يَغْدُو مُرْسِلاً يَدَهُ

كَأَنَّهُ لَيْسَ يَغْدُو مُرْسِلاً يَدَهُ

بِكُلِّ نافِذَةٍ إِلاّ لِيُصْمِينِي

بِكُلِّ نافِذَةٍ إِلاّ لِيُصْمِينِي

It is as though it never goes forth, extending its hand,

It seems each dawn you stretch out your hand,

With every piercing blow, save to kill me outright.

To strike at me through every opening.

سَلَوْتُ لا مَلَلاً عَمَّنْ كَلِفْتُ بِهِ

سَلَوْتُ لا مَلَلاً عَمَّنْ كَلِفْتُ بِهِ

وَمِثْلُ ما نالَ مِنِّي الدَّهْرُ يُسْلِينِي

وَمِثْلُ ما نالَ مِنِّي الدَّهْرُ يُسْلِينِي

I have ceased to pine for the one I adored—not out of boredom;

I have never tired of those I was charged with,

And the like of what Time has done to me makes me forget.

And what fate has inflicted on me wears me down.

ما كُنْتُ أَرْضى الْهَوى وَالْوَجْدُ يُنْحِلُنِي

ما كُنْتُ أَرْضى الْهَوى وَالْوَجْدُ يُنْحِلُنِي

حَتّى بُلِيتُ فَصارَ الْهَمُّ يُنْضِينِي

حَتّى بُلِيتُ فَصارَ الْهَمُّ يُنْضِينِي

I was not content with love while longing wasted me away,

I did not favor passion till it melted me away,

Until I was afflicted, and sorrow began to wear me out.

And sorrow took its place to waste me.

مَنْ كانَ ذا أُسْوَةٍ فِيمَنْ بِهِ حَزَنٌ

مَنْ كانَ ذا أُسْوَةٍ فِيمَنْ بِهِ حَزَنٌ

فَالْيَوْمَ بِي يَتَأَسّى كُلُّ مَحْزُونِ

فَالْيَوْمَ بِي يَتَأَسّى كُلُّ مَحْزُونِ

Whoever found solace in someone beset by sorrow—

Whoever modeled himself on the sorrowful,

Today every sorrowful soul finds solace in me.

Today, every sad soul models himself on me.