مَاnot كَانَwas هذَاthis الْحَدَّthe limit حَدَّthe limit of عَذَابِهِhis torment
مَا كَانَ هذَا الْحَدَّ حَدَّ عَذَابِهِ
تُرْدِيlays low الأُسُودَthe lions ضَرُورَةُthe compulsion of الإِخْدَارِlair-bound confinement
تُرْدِي الأُسُودَ ضَرُورَةُ الإِخْدَارِ
This was not the limit of his torment;
This torment was not the limit of his suffering,
Forced confinement in their lairs lays lions low.
Necessity makes the lions prey on the meek.
صَالَassailed الشَّقاءُmisery عَلَىupon فَرِيدٍFarid صَوْلةًan onslaught
صَالَ الشَّقاءُ عَلَى فَرِيدٍ صَوْلةً
بَيْنَbetween الْجَوَانِحِthe ribs أَنْذَرَتْwarned بِدَمَارِof destruction
بَيْنَ الْجَوَانِحِ أَنْذَرَتْ بِدَمَارِ
Misery launched an onslaught upon Farid,
Misery pounced on the lonely one with ferocity,
That, within his ribs, foretold destruction.
Portending destruction in his innermost being.
قَصُرَتْwere too short لَيَاليهِhis nights عَلَىfor مَجْهُوِدِهhis toil
قَصُرَتْ لَيَاليهِ عَلَى مَجْهُوِدِه
وَالْيَوْمَand today عُدْنَthey have returned عَلَيْهِto him غَيْرَnot قِصَارِshort
وَالْيَوْمَ عُدْنَ عَلَيْهِ غَيْرَ قِصَارِ
His nights were too short for his toil;
His nights fell short of his exertion,
And today they have returned to him, no longer short.
And today, lasting rest eludes him.
مَاwhat بَالُthe state of ذَاكَthat الْوَجْهِthe face بَعْدَafter توَردٍrosy bloom
مَا بَالُ ذَاكَ الْوَجْهِ بَعْدَ توَردٍ
خَلَعَcast off النّضَارَةfreshness وَاكْتَسَىand clothed itself بِبَهَارِin yellow blossoms
خَلَعَ النّضَارَة وَاكْتَسَى بِبَهَارِ
What ails that face, which, after its rosy bloom,
What is wrong with that face after being so rosy?
Has shed its freshness and clothed itself in yellow blossoms?
It lost its radiance and took on pallor.
مَاwhat بَالُthe state of ذَاكَthat الْجِسْمِthe body بَاتَhas become مِنَfrom الضَّنَىwasting sickness
مَا بَالُ ذَاكَ الْجِسْمِ بَاتَ مِنَ الضَّنَى
كَالرَّسْمِlike a trace فِيon جُرْفٍa riverbank بِهِwith it مُنْهَارِcollapsing
كَالرَّسْمِ فِي جُرْفٍ بِهِ مُنْهَارِ
What ails that body, which wasting sickness has left
What is wrong with that body that lies anxious and gaunt
Like a trace on a bank collapsing beneath it?
Like an eroded drawing on a crumbling wall?
مَاwhat بَالُthe state of ذَاكَthat العَزْمِthe resolve بَعْدَafter مَضَائِهِits keenness
مَا بَالُ ذَاكَ العَزْمِ بَعْدَ مَضَائِهِ
عَثَرَتْtripped up بِهِit العِلاَّتُthe ailments كُلَّevery عِثَارِstumble
عَثَرَتْ بِهِ العِلاَّتُ كُلَّ عِثَارِ
What ails that resolve, once so keen,
What is wrong with that resolve after its steadfastness?
That ailments have made it stumble at every turn?
Afflictions made it stumble at every hurdle.
مَاwhat بَالُthe state of ذَاكَthat القَلْبِthe heart بَعْدَafter خُفُوقِهِits throbbing
مَا بَالُ ذَاكَ القَلْبِ بَعْدَ خُفُوقِهِ
تَنْتَابُهُbeset it هَدَآتُlulls of الاِسْتِقْرَارِstillness
تَنْتَابُهُ هَدَآتُ الاِسْتِقْرَارِ
What ails that heart, after its throbbing,
What is wrong with that heart after its ardor?
That spells of stillness keep overtaking it?
It is now gripped by the calm of stability.
أَمْسَىhe has become يُعَاِلجُstruggles with سَكْرَةًa stupor فِِيin نَزْعِهِhis death throes
أَمْسَى يُعَاِلجُ سَكْرَةً فِِي نَزْعِهِ
مَنْhe who لَمdid not يَذُقْtaste فِيin الْعُمْرِlife طَعْمَthe taste of عُقَارِwine
مَنْ لَم يَذُقْ فِي الْعُمْرِ طَعْمَ عُقَارِ
He now wrestles with a stupor in his death throes—
He who never tasted bitterness in life
He who never tasted wine in all his life.
Ends up battling intoxication in sobriety.
وَلَوِand if اسْتَطاعَhe were able لَمَاwould not have أَضَاعَwasted دَقِيقَةًa minute
وَلَوِ اسْتَطاعَ لَمَا أَضَاعَ دَقِيقَةً
يَمْضِيpasses الزَّمَانُtime بِهَاwith it مُضِيَّa passing of خَسَارِloss
يَمْضِي الزَّمَانُ بِهَا مُضِيَّ خَسَارِ
And had he been able, he would not have wasted a minute
Had he been able, he would not have wasted one moment,
Through which time passes only to be lost.
As time slipped by him, a stark loss.
وَفَّىfulfilled بِمَاwith what أَعْطاهُhe gave it حَقَّthe due of بِلاَدِهِhis country
وَفَّى بِمَا أَعْطاهُ حَقَّ بِلاَدِهِ
وَالمَوْهَبَاتُand the gifts تُرَدُّare returned رَدَّas a return of عَوَارِيborrowed things
وَالمَوْهَبَاتُ تُرَدُّ رَدَّ عَوَارِي
With what he gave, he fulfilled his country's due;
He fulfilled his duty to his country,
And gifts are returned like borrowed things.
Though generosity may be rebuffed disgracefully.
أَمَكَانُهُis his dwelling هَذاthis أَتِلْكَare those حُلِيُّهُhis jewels
أَمَكَانُهُ هَذا أَتِلْكَ حُلِيُّهُ
وَالبَيْتُand the house خالٍempty وَالمُقَلَّدُand the neck عَارِيbare
وَالبَيْتُ خالٍ وَالمُقَلَّدُ عَارِي
Is this his dwelling? Are those his jewels,
Is this his place, are those his jewels?
With the house empty and the neck bare?
While the home lies empty and the adorned stripped bare?
أَكَذَاكَis it thus يَخْتِمُhe ends فِيin الشَّقاءِmisery حَيَاتَهُhis life
أَكَذَاكَ يَخْتِمُ فِي الشَّقاءِ حَيَاتَهُ
مَنْhe who كَانَwas جَمَّabundant in الْجَاهِprestige وَالإِيسَارِand wealth
مَنْ كَانَ جَمَّ الْجَاهِ وَالإِيسَارِ
Is this how he ends his life in misery—
Does he who once had glory and luxury
He who once abounded in prestige and wealth?
End his life thus, in misery?
مَاذَاhow much تَفِيcan repay مِنْof حَقِّهhis due بَعْدَafter الَّذِيwhat
مَاذَا تَفِي مِنْ حَقِّه بَعْدَ الَّذِي
عَانَاهhe endured it كُلُّall قَلاَئِدِthe necklaces of الأَشْعَارِverse
عَانَاه كُلُّ قَلاَئِدِ الأَشْعَارِ
How much of his due can they repay, after what
What will poetry avail him after what
He endured—all the necklaces of verse?
Every verse of poetry made him endure?
إِنَّindeed الَّذِيwhat يَبْلُوهُhe experiences it شَارِيthe redeemer of قَوْمِهِhis people
إِنَّ الَّذِي يَبْلُوهُ شَارِي قَوْمِهِ
غَيْرُother than الَّذِيwhat نَتْلُوهُwe read it فِيin الأَسْطَارِthe written lines
غَيْرُ الَّذِي نَتْلُوهُ فِي الأَسْطَارِ
Indeed, what his people's redeemer endures
The suffering borne for his people’s sake
Is other than what we read in written lines.
Is not what we recount in prose and verse.
Claude 2 is inferred from the historical translator configuration. The original record does not identify its model.