لِلَّهِto God (in wonder) ماwhat هاجَstirred لَمعُthe flash of البارِقِthe lightning السَّارِيtraveling by night
لِلَّهِ ما هاجَ لَمعُ البارِقِ السَّارِي
عَلىupon فُؤادِthe heart of غَريبٍa stranger نازِحِfar from الدَّارِhome
عَلى فُؤادِ غَريبٍ نازِحِ الدَّارِ
God, what the flash of night-roaming lightning has stirred
For God, what has disturbed the lightning flash
in the heart of a stranger far from home!
That flickered over a stranger’s heart fleeing home?
أَكَبَّbent low فيin الأُفقِthe horizon مِنهُfrom it قادِحٌa fire-striker عَمِلٌtireless
أَكَبَّ في الأُفقِ مِنهُ قادِحٌ عَمِلٌ
يَنقَدُّis rent ثَوبُthe robe of الدُّجَىdarkness عَنaway from زَندِهِhis fire-stick الوارِيblazing
يَنقَدُّ ثَوبُ الدُّجَى عَن زَندِهِ الوارِي
On the horizon, its tireless fire-striker bent low;
It forged ahead in the horizon like active fire
the robe of darkness tears away from his blazing fire-stick.
That strips the night’s clothes from its outstretched hand.
كانَwas الصِّباyouthful pleasure وَطَريmy desire إِذwhen كُنتُI was فيin وَطَنِيmy homeland
كانَ الصِّبا وَطَري إِذ كُنتُ في وَطَنِي
فَقَدand indeed فُجِعتُI was bereft بِأَوطانِيof my homelands وَأَوطارِيand my desires
فَقَد فُجِعتُ بِأَوطانِي وَأَوطارِي
Youthful pleasure was my desire when I was in my homeland;
The zephyr and the birds were mine when I lived in my country,
and I have indeed been bereft of my homelands and my desires.
But I've been distraught by my home and environs.
فَأَينَthen where تِلكَthose الرُّبىthe hills وَالسَّاكِنونَand the dwellers بِهاon them
فَأَينَ تِلكَ الرُّبى وَالسَّاكِنونَ بِها
وأَينَand where فيهاin them عَشِيَّاتِيmy evenings وَأَسحارِيand my predawn hours
وأَينَ فيها عَشِيَّاتِي وَأَسحارِي
Where, then, are those hills and those who dwell upon them?
Where are those meadows and their dwellers?
And where are my evenings and my predawn hours there?
And where are my evenings and dawns there?
مَلاعِبٌplaygrounds نَثَرَتscattered أَيدِيthe hands of الرِّياحِthe winds بِهاin them
مَلاعِبٌ نَثَرَت أَيدِي الرِّياحِ بِها
ماwhatever شِئتَyou wished مِنof دِرهَمٍa dirham ضَربٍminted وَدينارِand a dinar
ما شِئتَ مِن دِرهَمٍ ضَربٍ وَدينارِ
Playgrounds where the hands of the winds scattered
Playgrounds that the winds’ hands scattered.
as many minted dirhams and dinars as you could wish.
Take what coins you want minted and stamped!
ماwhat لِلزَّمانِwith Time أَلاis there no حُرٌّa noble man يُنَهنِهُهُrestrains it
ما لِلزَّمانِ أَلا حُرٌّ يُنَهنِهُهُ
يَفرِيit rends أَديميmy skin بِأَنيابٍwith fangs وَأَظفارِand claws
يَفرِي أَديمي بِأَنيابٍ وَأَظفارِ
What ails Time? Is there no noble man to restrain it?
Why doesn't time have a noble one to gently restrain it
It rends my skin with fangs and claws.
When it bares its fangs and claws to shred my skin?
نَشَدتُهُI adjured it حَقَّthe right of آدابيmy learning فَأَشعَرَنيso it made me realize
نَشَدتُهُ حَقَّ آدابي فَأَشعَرَني
بِأَنَّof the fact that ذَنبِيَmy offense آدابيmy learning وَأَشعارِيand my poems
بِأَنَّ ذَنبِيَ آدابي وَأَشعارِي
I adjured it by the respect due my learning, and it made me realize
I held it to the right of manners but it made me feel
that my offense was my learning and my poems.
That manners and poems are the wrong I’ve done.
تَكَنَّفَتنِيَhemmed me in مِنهاfrom them كُلُّevery مُظلِمَةٍdark calamity
تَكَنَّفَتنِيَ مِنها كُلُّ مُظلِمَةٍ
كَمَنتُI lay hidden فيهاwithin it كُمونَthe concealment of الخَمرِwine فيin القارِpitch
كَمَنتُ فيها كُمونَ الخَمرِ في القارِ
Every dark calamity from them hemmed me in;
Every dark night encompassed me,
I lay hidden within it as wine lies hidden in pitch.
Where wine lay hidden in its vat.
إِنِّيindeed I أَباO Abu حَسَنٍHasan قَدindeed ضِعتُI was lost بَينَكُمُamong you
إِنِّي أَبا حَسَنٍ قَد ضِعتُ بَينَكُمُ
وَقَلَّand it is rare ماthat ضاعَwas lost حُرٌّa noble man بَينَamong أَحرارِnoble men
وَقَلَّ ما ضاعَ حُرٌّ بَينَ أَحرارِ
Abu Hasan, I have indeed been lost among you;
Abu Hasan, I've grown weak among you
and rarely is a noble man lost among noble men.
And seldom has a free soul weakened mid the free.
أَتُسلِمُونَwill you surrender لِجَورِto the tyranny of الدَّهرِTime جارَكُمُyour neighbor
أَتُسلِمُونَ لِجَورِ الدَّهرِ جارَكُمُ
وَلَمand has not تَضِعbeen lost قَطُّever فيكُمamong you ذِمَّةُthe pledge of protection for الجارِthe neighbor
وَلَم تَضِع قَطُّ فيكُم ذِمَّةُ الجارِ
Will you surrender your neighbor to the tyranny of Time,
Will you submit to the injustice of Time, your neighbor,
though a neighbor's right to protection has never been neglected among you?
When the duty of neighbors never lapsed in you?
وَكَمand how many يَدٍa favor لَكَof yours عِنديwith me لَستُI do not أَكفُرُهاdeny it
وَكَم يَدٍ لَكَ عِندي لَستُ أَكفُرُها
أَمطَيتُهاI made it ride مِنfrom ثَنائِيmy praise ظَهرَthe back of طَيّارِa swift flyer
أَمطَيتُها مِن ثَنائِي ظَهرَ طَيّارِ
And many a favor you have done me—I do not deny it;
How many hands extended to you have I not denied,
I mounted it, through my praise, on the back of a swift flyer.
Giving them my commendation swift as birds in flight?
إِذاif المَدائِحُpoems of praise لَمdid not يُسفِرdawn لَهاfor them أَمَلٌhope
إِذا المَدائِحُ لَم يُسفِر لَها أَمَلٌ
فَخَلِّنيthen leave me لِمَناديحيto my avenues of escape وَأَسفارِيand my travels
فَخَلِّني لِمَناديحي وَأَسفارِي
If no hope dawns for poems of praise,
When praise yields no hope, leave me to my poems
then leave me to my avenues of escape and my travels.
And travels for I've grown aloof from life's delight.
فَقَدfor indeed عَزَبتُI turned away عَنِfrom الدُّنياthe world وَبَهجَتِهاand its splendor
فَقَد عَزَبتُ عَنِ الدُّنيا وَبَهجَتِها
وَقُلتُand I said لِلنَّفسِto the soul صَبراًpatience أُمَّO mother of صَبَّارِSabbar
وَقُلتُ لِلنَّفسِ صَبراً أُمَّ صَبَّارِ
For I have indeed turned away from the world and its splendor,
I told my soul, "Patience, O most patient mother!"
and I told my soul, 'Patience, Umm Sabbar!'
Poverty's hardship but I'm pleased with it
ماhow أَصعَبَhard الفَقرَpoverty لَكِنّيbut I رَضيتُI was content بِهِwith it
ما أَصعَبَ الفَقرَ لَكِنّي رَضيتُ بِهِ
لَمّاwhen رَأَيتُI saw الغِنىwealth فيon جانِبِthe side of العارِdishonor
لَمّا رَأَيتُ الغِنى في جانِبِ العارِ
How hard poverty is! Yet I have accepted it,
When I see wealth stained with disgrace.
when I saw wealth on the side of dishonor.
Partial English translation: 27 of 28 Arabic lines translated.