مَشْهَدٌa funeral procession سُيِّرَwas led forth فِيwith طَبْلٍa drum وَبُوقِand a trumpet
مَشْهَدٌ سُيِّرَ فِي طَبْلٍ وَبُوقِ
عِظَةٌa sermon جُنَّتwent mad فَغَنَّتand so sang فِيalong الطَّرِيقِthe road
عِظَةٌ جُنَّت فَغَنَّت فِي الطَّرِيقِ
A funeral procession was led forth with drum and trumpet;
A scene marched in drums and horns
a sermon went mad and sang along the road.
A sermon preached and sang on the road
عِظَةُthe sermon of المَوْتِdeath وَمَاand not عَهْدِيmy familiarity بِهَاwith it
عِظَةُ المَوْتِ وَمَا عَهْدِي بِهَا
أَنْto تَزُفَّescort النَّعشَthe bier فِيwith تَدْلِيلِhawking سُوقِa market
أَنْ تَزُفَّ النَّعشَ فِي تَدْلِيلِ سُوقِ
Death's sermon—and never have I known it
The sermon of death, though I'm not used to it
to escort the bier with the hawking of a market.
Marching the bier flamboyantly in the street
لاَno وَلاَnor عَهْدِيmy familiarity بِهَاwith it خَاطِبَةpreaching
لاَ وَلاَ عَهْدِي بِهَا خَاطِبَة
عَنْfrom ثُغُورٍmouths مِنْof نُحَاسٍbrass وَحُلُوقِand throats
عَنْ ثُغُورٍ مِنْ نُحَاسٍ وَحُلُوقِ
No, nor have I known it to preach
No, I'm not used to it wooing
from mouths of brass and throats.
With bells of brass and gilt ornaments
وَيْحَalas for تِلْكَthose الْقِطَعِthe pieces الصَّفرَاءِyellow فِيin
وَيْحَ تِلْكَ الْقِطَعِ الصَّفرَاءِ فِي
صَوْتِهَاtheir sound حِسُّthe sensation of جِرَاحٍwounds وَحُرُوقِand burns
صَوْتِهَا حِسُّ جِرَاحٍ وَحُرُوقِ
Alas for those yellow pieces! In
Alas, those yellow pieces
their sound lies the sting of wounds and burns.
Whose sound senses wounds and burns
مَنْwho تُرَىI wonder عَلَّمَهَاtaught them مَاwhat مَزَجَتْthey blended
مَنْ تُرَى عَلَّمَهَا مَا مَزَجَتْ
مِنْof وَجِيفٍthrobbing وَعَوِيلٍand wailing وَنَعِيقِand croaking
مِنْ وَجِيفٍ وَعَوِيلٍ وَنَعِيقِ
Who, I wonder, taught them the blend they made
I wonder who taught it to mix
of throbbing, wailing, and croaking?
The stench, wailing, and howling
أَلْقَتِthey cast forth الْفَجْعَةَanguish فَاسْتَولَتْthen took hold عَلَىof
أَلْقَتِ الْفَجْعَةَ فَاسْتَولَتْ عَلَى
كُلِّevery سَمْعٍhearing وَأَجَفَّتand dried up كُلَّall رِيقِsaliva
كُلِّ سَمْعٍ وَأَجَفَّت كُلَّ رِيقِ
They cast forth anguish, then took hold of
It cast grief and overtook
every ear and dried up every drop of saliva.
Every hearing and dried every saliva
تَلْكَthat شَكْوىَa lament عَنْfrom فُؤَادٍa heart ثَاكِلٍbereaved
تَلْكَ شَكْوىَ عَنْ فُؤَادٍ ثَاكِلٍ
صَاخِبِclamorous with الآلاَمِpain رَنَّانِresounding with الخَفُوقِheartbeats
صَاخِبِ الآلاَمِ رَنَّانِ الخَفُوقِ
That is a lament from a bereaved heart,
That's the complaint of a forlorn heart
clamorous with pain, its heartbeat ringing aloud.
The ringing, wounded passions
يَاO أَباًa father يَبْكِيweeps for ابْنَهُhis son مُلْتَمِساًseeking
يَا أَباً يَبْكِي ابْنَهُ مُلْتَمِساً
ذَلِكَthat التَّنبِيهَrousing لِلْحِسِّfor the senses الصَّعيقِstunned
ذَلِكَ التَّنبِيهَ لِلْحِسِّ الصَّعيقِ
O father, weeping for your son, seeking
Oh father, crying for his son, seeking
that rousing of the stunned senses,
To awaken numb sensations
وَاضِحٌclear عُذْرُكَyour excuse مَهْمَاhowever تَفْتَنِنْyou show ingenuity
وَاضِحٌ عُذْرُكَ مَهْمَا تَفْتَنِنْ
لِلعَدُوّto the enemy الصُّلبِunyielding وَالخِدْنِand the close companion الرَّفِيقِgentle
لِلعَدُوّ الصُّلبِ وَالخِدْنِ الرَّفِيقِ
your excuse is clear, however inventive you may be,
Your excuse is clear, no matter how you are tempted
to the unyielding enemy and the gentle companion.
By the solid enemy and the smooth slander
آهِah مِنْfrom نَارِthe fire of الْجَوَىanguish فَهْيَfor it is الَّتِيwhat
آهِ مِنْ نَارِ الْجَوَى فَهْيَ الَّتِي
تَفْجُرُmakes erupt البُرْكَانَthe volcano مِنْfrom قَلْبِa heart رَقِيقِtender
تَفْجُرُ البُرْكَانَ مِنْ قَلْبِ رَقِيقِ
Ah, the fire of anguish, for it is what
Oh, the fire of love is what
makes the volcano erupt from a tender heart.
Erupts volcanoes from a gentle heart
آهِah مِنْfrom صَدْعِthe rift of النَّوَىseparation فَهْوَfor it is الَّذِيwhat
آهِ مِنْ صَدْعِ النَّوَى فَهْوَ الَّذِي
يُرْسِلُsends forth الأَحْزَانَsorrows كَالسَّيْلِlike the torrent الدَّفُوقِgushing
يُرْسِلُ الأَحْزَانَ كَالسَّيْلِ الدَّفُوقِ
Ah, the rift of separation, for it is what
Oh, the cracking of passion is what
sends forth sorrows like a gushing torrent.
Sends sorrows flooding like a bursting dam
إِنْif تُذِيبُواyou melt هَكَذَاthis way أَكْبَادَنَاour livers
إِنْ تُذِيبُوا هَكَذَا أَكْبَادَنَا
يَاO بَنِينَاour sons فَالرَّدَىthen death أَقْسَىthe cruelest الْعُقُوقِfilial disobedience
يَا بَنِينَا فَالرَّدَى أَقْسَى الْعُقُوقِ
If you melt our livers this way,
If you keep melting our livers like this
O our sons, then death is the cruelest breach of filial duty.
Our children, then estrangement is the cruelest betrayal
Claude 2 is inferred from the historical translator configuration. The original record does not identify its model.