أَلاَAh! ياO حِمَىprotected pasture وادِىvalley of المِيَاهِthe waters قَتلَتنىyou have slain me
أَلاَ يا حِمَى وادِى المِيَاهِ قَتلَتنى
أَتاحَكَmade you accessible ليto me قَبلَbefore المَماتِdeath مُتيحُa granter of access
أَتاحَكَ لي قَبلَ المَماتِ مُتيحُ
Ah, protected pasture of Wadi al-Miyah, you have slain me!
Alas! O fountain in the valley of water, you have killed me
May a giver grant you to me before death.
Before death, you were accessible to me, an offerer
رَأَيتُكَI saw you وَشميَّspeckled with growth الثَّرىthe moist earth ظاهرَplainly showing الرُّياmoisture
رَأَيتُكَ وَشميَّ الثَّرى ظاهرَ الرُّيا
يحوطُكَguards you إنسانٌa man عَلَىَّtoward me شَحيحُgrudging
يحوطُكَ إنسانٌ عَلَىَّ شَحيحُ
I saw you, your soil patterned with growth, your moisture plain to see,
I saw you while the earth covers me, the perfume diffusing
A man guards you, grudging me access.
A man environs you, to me miserly
هَلِwill ...? الحائمُthe circling one الحرّانُthe parched one مُسقىًgiven a drink بَشربَةٍwith a draught
هَلِ الحائمُ الحرّانُ مُسقىً بَشربَةٍ
مِنَof العّذبِsweet water تَشفىheals ماwhat بِهِis in him فتُريحُand thus brings relief
مِنَ العّذبِ تَشفى ما بِهِ فتُريحُ
Will the circling, parched one be given a draught
Is the guardsman singing, given a drink
Of sweet water to heal his affliction and bring relief?
Of fresh water to cure what in him is weary?
فَقالتthen she said لَعلَىperhaps I لَوif سَقَيتُI gave a drink بِشَربَةٍwith a draught
فَقالت لَعلَى لَو سَقَيتُ بِشَربَةٍ
تُخَبِّرُyou tell أَعدَائِيmy enemies بِهاof it فَتَبوحُso you divulge
تُخَبِّرُ أَعدَائِي بِها فَتَبوحُ
She said, 'Perhaps, if I gave you a draught,
She said to me, “If I gave you a drink
You would tell my enemies of it and divulge it.'
Would you inform my enemies, thus babbling?”
إِذنthen فأناخَتنىthen brought me low المَنايَاthe fates of death وَقادَنيand led me
إِذن فأناخَتنى المَنايَا وَقادَني
إِلىto مَجزَرٍa slaughter-place عَضبُkeen-edged السِّلاحِweaponry مُشيحُresolute
إِلى مَجزَرٍ عَضبُ السِّلاحِ مُشيحُ
Then may the fates of death bring me low, and may I be led
Then the fates anchored me, and the anger of arms guided me
To a slaughter-place by a resolute man with keen weapons.
To a slaughter—the swordsman exacting
لَبِئسَtruly wretched إِذَنthen مَلقىa recipient of الكَرَاهَةِhatred سِرُّهاher secret
لَبِئسَ إِذَن مَلقى الكَرَاهَةِ سِرُّها
وإِنّىand indeed I إِذنthen مِنfrom حُبِّكُمlove for you لَصَحيحُsurely cured
وإِنّى إِذن مِن حُبِّكُم لَصَحيحُ
How wretched, then, for her secret to be met with hatred,
Wretched then was the encounter of her secret
And I would then indeed be cured of my love for you.
Yet truly I am of your love sincere
إِذَاwhen ذُكِرَتshe is mentioned عِندِىin my presence أَئِنُّI groan لذِكرِهاat her mention
إِذَا ذُكِرَت عِندِى أَئِنُّ لذِكرِها
كماjust as أَنَّgroaned وَقعِthe blow of السِّلاحِweapons جَرِيحُa wounded man
كما أَنَّ وَقعِ السِّلاحِ جَرِيحُ
When she is mentioned in my presence, I groan at her mention,
When she is mentioned in my presence, do I moan
As a wounded man groans from a weapon's blow.
As if from the blow of a blade a wounded man?
وَلِيand I have كَبِدٌa liver مَقرُوحَةٌulcerated مَنwho يَبيعُنيwill sell to me
وَلِي كَبِدٌ مَقرُوحَةٌ مَن يَبيعُني
بهاin exchange for it كَبِداًa liver لَيسَتis not بِذَاتِpossessed of قُروحِsores
بها كَبِداً لَيسَت بِذَاتِ قُروحِ
I have an ulcerated liver—who will sell me
And I have a wounded liver—who will buy me
In exchange for it a liver that has no sores?
A liver not itself wounded?
أَبَىrefused النَّاسُthe people وَيبَwoe to النَّاسِthe people أَنto يَشتَرُونَهَاthey buy it
أَبَى النَّاسُ وَيبَ النَّاسِ أَن يَشتَرُونَهَا
وَمَنand who يَشتَرِىbuys ذَاone with عِلَّةan illness بِصَحيحِin exchange for a healthy one
وَمَن يَشتَرِى ذَا عِلَّة بِصَحيحِ
People refused—woe to people!—to buy it,
The people refused and despaired to buy it
And who would buy an ailing one in exchange for a healthy one?
Who will buy something sick for what is healthy?
بَداappeared البَرقُlightning عُلوِياًaloft فَلمّاthen when تَصَوَّبَتsank downward
بَدا البَرقُ عُلوِياً فَلمّا تَصَوَّبَت
غَوارِبُهُits crests باتَتspent the night ذُرَاهُits summits تَلُوحُgleaming
غَوارِبُهُ باتَت ذُرَاهُ تَلُوحُ
Lightning appeared aloft; then, when down sank
Lightning appeared on high; then when its
Its crests, its summits kept glimmering through the night.
Thunderbolts took aim, their sparks faded
أَلاَAh! ياO غُرَابَraven of البَينِparting مِمَّof what تُليحُyou signal ليto me
أَلاَ يا غُرَابَ البَينِ مِمَّ تُليحُ لي
كلامُكَyour speech مَشنِىٌhateful وأَنتَand you صَريحُforthright
كلامُكَ مَشنِىٌ وأَنتَ صَريحُ
Ah, raven of parting, what do you signal to me?
Alas! O raven of separation, why do you inspire me?
Your speech is hateful, and you are forthright.
Your words grieve me, yet you are frank
فإِلاّand if not تَشُقنَاyou stir our longing ذَاتَone يَومٍday فإنّهُthen it is certain
فإِلاّ تَشُقنَا ذَاتَ يَومٍ فإنّهُ
سَتُعقِبُwill succeed خَطبَاءُa mottled dove السَّرَاةِon the back صَدُوحُloud-voiced
سَتُعقِبُ خَطبَاءُ السَّرَاةِ صَدُوحُ
And if you do not stir our longing one day, then surely
Unless one day you rend us, then orators of misfortune
A mottled-backed, loud-voiced dove will take your place.
Will succeed in diverting calamities unleashed