أَرنةُis it a cry الحُزنِof sorrow أَمor ذيthis رَنَةa cry الطَرَبِof joy
أَرنةُ الحُزنِ أَم ذي رَنَة الطَرَبِ
فَقَدfor indeed أَهاجَstirred صَداهاits echo القَلبthe heart فيin لجبa clamor
فَقَد أَهاجَ صَداها القَلب في لجب
Is it sorrow's cry, or is this the cry of joy?
Is it the bell of sorrow or the chime of joy
For its echo has stirred the heart amid a clamor.
That has stirred my heart in the hills?
لِلشامto al-Sham مِنfrom مَصرEgypt قَدindeed سارَتtraveled هَواتِفُهاits calls
لِلشام مِن مَصر قَد سارَت هَواتِفُها
بِالنَعيwith death tidings أَوor بِالهَناwith congratulations لَمdid not أَدرِI know لاno وَأَبيby my father
بِالنَعي أَو بِالهَنا لَم أَدرِ لا وَأَبي
Its calls have traveled from Egypt to al-Sham,
Messages from Egypt to Syria have flown
With tidings of death or congratulations—I did not know, no, by my father.
With news of grief or glee, I cannot tell
هَلhas دارtaken place عُرسٌa wedding بِهاin it دَقَتrang out بَشائِرُهُits glad tidings
هَل دار عُرسٌ بِها دَقَت بَشائِرُهُ
أَمor قامَarose ياO وَيحalas for قَلبيmy heart مَأتَمa mourning assembly الحَربِof anguish
أَم قامَ يا وَيح قَلبي مَأتَم الحَربِ
Has a wedding taken place there, its glad tidings ringing out?
Has a wedding taken place to beat its drums?
Or, alas for my heart, has a mourning assembly of anguish arisen?
Or alas, my heart, has the dirge of war begun?
فَأقصدso make for رَبيmy lord نَيلَهاits Nile مُستَعلِماًinquiring خَبَراًfor news
فَأقصد رَبي نَيلَها مُستَعلِماً خَبَراً
وَنادَand call عَنيon my behalf كرامthe nobles الحَيِّof the quarter عَنfrom كَثَبِclose by
وَنادَ عَني كرام الحَيِّ عَن كَثَبِ
So, my lord, make for its Nile, seeking news,
I seek my Lord to learn the tidings
And hail the quarter's nobles on my behalf, from close at hand.
And bid the noble kin speak out and clear the mist
قُلsay ماwhat وَراكُمbehind you وَماذاand what هَبَّarose يَشغلكمoccupies you
قُل ما وَراكُم وَماذا هَبَّ يَشغلكم
وَماand what لَجمعِكُمfor your gathering فيin الربعthe dwelling مِنany سَبَبreason
وَما لَجمعِكُم في الربع مِن سَبَب
Say: What news have you, and what has arisen to occupy you?
Tell me, what is behind you and why are you distracted?
And what is the reason for your gathering in the dwelling?
Why have you gathered in the abode for no cause?
هَلhas لاحَshone forth بَدرَكُمyour full moon فيin الأُفقِthe horizon مُنجَلِياًunveiled
هَل لاحَ بَدرَكُم في الأُفقِ مُنجَلِياً
أَمor دَكَwas crushed مُحتَجِباًconcealed ياO قَومpeople فيin التُربِthe dust
أَم دَكَ مُحتَجِباً يا قَوم في التُربِ
Has your full moon shone unveiled upon the horizon?
Has your full moon risen in the horizon brightly?
Or was it crushed, concealed in the dust, O people?
Or has it set, O people, shrouded in dust?
عَهديmy recollection بِهِof him بالِغاًhaving reached عَهدَthe age of التَمامfullness فَماso what
عَهدي بِهِ بالِغاً عَهدَ التَمام فَما
بالَthe matter with المُحلقthe Destroyer دَهاهُstruck him اليَومtoday بِالعَطبِwith ruin
بالَ المُحلق دَهاهُ اليَوم بِالعَطبِ
I knew him to have reached the age of fullness—so what
My pledge to him was to reach perfection, so why
Possessed the Destroyer to strike him down today?
Is he who was sublime now fallen from grace?
بِاللَهِby God أَينَwhere الفَتىthe youth المَحمودthe praiseworthy أَينَwhere مَضىhas he gone
بِاللَهِ أَينَ الفَتى المَحمود أَينَ مَضى
أَينَwhere اِنثَنىturned away أَينَwhere أَلقَتهُcast him يَدُthe hand النوبِof calamities
أَينَ اِنثَنى أَينَ أَلقَتهُ يَدُ النوبِ
By God, where is the praiseworthy youth? Where has he gone?
By God, where is the esteemed youth? Where has he gone?
Where did he turn away? Where did the hand of calamities cast him?
Where did he fall? Where did the hand of fate cast him?
وَاللَهِby God أَنيthat I وَقَدand indeed ضَجَّclamored النَعيُّthe death tidings بِهِabout him
وَاللَهِ أَني وَقَد ضَجَّ النَعيُّ بِهِ
شرقتُI choked بِالدَمعِon tears حَتّىuntil كادَalmost يُشرِقُchoke بيon me
شرقتُ بِالدَمعِ حَتّى كادَ يُشرِقُ بي
By God, I—when the tidings of his death rang out—
By God, when the news of his death spread
Choked on tears until they nearly choked on me.
I wept until the east almost shone through me
أَصبَحتُI have become ياO قَومpeople مَصروعاًfelled لِمَصرَعِهِby his fall
أَصبَحتُ يا قَوم مَصروعاً لِمَصرَعِهِ
مَيِتاًdead تَحَرَّكَstirred فيin الامpains مُضطَرِبِone distraught
مَيِتاً تَحَرَّكَ في الام مُضطَرِبِ
I have been felled, O people, by his fall,
I have become, O people, a ruin from his ruin
Dead, yet stirring amid the pains of one distraught.
A corpse stirred in agony and restless grief
خُذواtake رَشاديmy reason فَسكريfor my drunkenness حَلَّoccupied مَوضِعَهُits place
خُذوا رَشادي فَسكري حَلَّ مَوضِعَهُ
يَأساًin despair وَلُومواand reproach فُؤاديmy heart كَيفَhow لَمdid not يَذُبِmelt
يَأساً وَلُوموا فُؤادي كَيفَ لَم يَذُبِ
Take my reason, for my drunkenness has taken its place,
Take my sanity, for madness has taken its place
In despair; and reproach my heart—how has it not melted?
Rebuke my heart for not melting away
وَمَزقواand tear apart مَهجَتيmy heart's core إِذsince لَستُI am not أَحفَظَهاkeeping it
وَمَزقوا مَهجَتي إِذ لَستُ أَحفَظَها
مِنfrom بَعدِهِafter him مَنزِلاًa dwelling لِلحُزنِfor sorrow وَالكَربِand anguish
مِن بَعدِهِ مَنزِلاً لِلحُزنِ وَالكَربِ
And tear my heart apart, for I will not keep it
Tear out my vitals, for I cannot protect them
After him as a dwelling for sorrow and anguish.
From sorrow and distress after him
لَهفيmy anguish عَلىover ذَلِكَthat الغُصنbranch الَّذيwhose قَصفتsnapped
لَهفي عَلى ذَلِكَ الغُصن الَّذي قَصفت
صَباهُits youth فيin رَوضِهِits garden الزاهيradiant يَدُthe hand النكبِof calamities
صَباهُ في رَوضِهِ الزاهي يَدُ النكبِ
Alas for that branch, whose youth was snapped
I yearn for the branch which the morning breeze had adorned
In its radiant garden by calamity's hand.
In its blooming meadow, then the hand of doom snapped
أَواهُalas أَيّwhat فُؤادٍheart غَيرَnot مُنكَسِرٍbroken
أَواهُ أَيّ فُؤادٍ غَيرَ مُنكَسِرٍ
وَأَيّand what طَرفٍeye عَلَيهِover him غَيرnot مُنتَحِبِsobbing
وَأَيّ طَرفٍ عَلَيهِ غَير مُنتَحِبِ
Alas, what heart is not broken?
What heart is not broken, what eye not crying?
And what eye is not sobbing over him?
He reached, when he walked, a treasure buried
سَفحthe slope المُقَطمof al-Muqattam فيهِin him حازَgained حينَwhen سَرىjourneyed by night
سَفح المُقَطم فيهِ حازَ حينَ سَرى
كَنزاًa treasure ثَويrested تَحتَbeneath أَثقالٍheavy weights مِنof الحجبِveils
كَنزاً ثَوي تَحتَ أَثقالٍ مِن الحجبِ
The slope of al-Muqattam gained in him, when he journeyed by night,
Under mountains of veil on Al-Muqattam's slope
A treasure resting beneath the weight of veils.
A slope in which the beautiful patience was buried
سَفحٌa slope بِهِin it دُفِنَwas buried الصَبرpatience الجَميلbeautiful مَعwith
سَفحٌ بِهِ دُفِنَ الصَبر الجَميل مَع
الوَجهthe face الجَميلbeautiful الَّذيwhich وَلّىdeparted وَلَمand did not يَؤُبِreturn
الوَجه الجَميل الَّذي وَلّى وَلَم يَؤُبِ
A slope where beautiful patience was buried with
With the beautiful face that turned and did not return
The beautiful face that departed and did not return.
The drifting clouds did not know his figure,
لَمdid not يَعرِفknow السُحُبthe clouds الهِتانpouring rain عارضهاits flank
لَم يَعرِف السُحُب الهِتان عارضها
فَجاءَهُso came to it الدَمعthe tears يَغنيهِsufficing for it عَنinstead of السُحُبِthe clouds
فَجاءَهُ الدَمع يَغنيهِ عَن السُحُبِ
Its flank had never known rain-pouring clouds,
So tears came to sing his song in place of clouds
So tears came to it, sparing it the need for clouds.
O bereft father, grieved
ياO أَيُّهاyou الوالِدfather المَسلوبrobbed of خاطِرُهُhis peace of mind
يا أَيُّها الوالِد المَسلوب خاطِرُهُ
بِماby what جَنىwrought حادِثُthe misfortune الأَيّامof the days مِنof نَوَبِcalamities
بِما جَنى حادِثُ الأَيّام مِن نَوَبِ
O father, whose peace of mind has been stolen
By the disasters of fate and its blows
By the calamities that the mishaps of days have wrought,
Sorrow has ignited its embers in your heart
قَدindeed أَشعَلَkindled الحُزنgrief فيin أَحشاكَyour entrails جَمرَتَهُits ember
قَد أَشعَلَ الحُزن في أَحشاكَ جَمرَتَهُ
وَأَنتَand you بَينَamong البَراياhumankind بَهجَةُthe joy العَرَبِof the Arabs
وَأَنتَ بَينَ البَرايا بَهجَةُ العَرَبِ
Grief has kindled its ember in your entrails,
While you are the joy of the Arabs in the wilderness
And among humankind you are the joy of the Arabs.
How can the Nile quench your thirst on its bank
لفَمso did not يَروِكَslake your thirst النيلُthe Nile ظَمأناًthirsty بضفتِهِon its bank
لفَم يَروِكَ النيلُ ظَمأناً بضفتِهِ
حَتّىuntil تَوَهَمتَyou imagined إِنَّthat النيلَthe Nile مِنof لَهَبِflame
حَتّى تَوَهَمتَ إِنَّ النيلَ مِن لَهَبِ
So the Nile left you thirsty on its bank,
You imagined the Nile was made of flames?
Until you imagined the Nile was made of flame.
You are the generous one whose gifts overflowed
أَنتَyou الكَريمُthe generous one الَّذيwhose فاضَتoverflowed مَواهِبُهُhis gifts
أَنتَ الكَريمُ الَّذي فاضَت مَواهِبُهُ
فَاطمعso made covetous الدَهرTime حَتّىuntil ثارَrose up لِلسَلبِto plunder
فَاطمع الدَهر حَتّى ثارَ لِلسَلبِ
You are the generous one whose gifts overflowed,
So time grew greedy and rose up to rob them
And made Time covetous, until it rose to plunder.
What can console you, O paragon of virtue
بِماwith what أَعزيكَI console you ياO مَنyou who جَلَّexcelled مَعرِفَةًin knowledge
بِما أَعزيكَ يا مَن جَلَّ مَعرِفَةً
وَأَنتَand you فيin العَصرthe age رَبُّmaster الفهمof understanding وَالأَدَبِand letters
وَأَنتَ في العَصر رَبُّ الفهم وَالأَدَبِ
With what can I console you, O you great in knowledge,
Master of knowledge and literature of the age?
When you are this age's master of understanding and letters?
Wait, your branch in the heavenly meadow has appeared
مَهلاًbe calm فَغُصنُكَfor your branch فيin رَوضthe garden السَماءِof heaven بَداappeared
مَهلاً فَغُصنُكَ في رَوض السَماءِ بَدا
مَعwith المَلائِكِthe angels يَحييlives بالغhaving attained الأَرَبِdesire
مَع المَلائِكِ يَحيي بالغ الأَرَبِ
Be calm, for your branch has appeared in heaven's garden,
With angels greeting the most pious of Arabs
With the angels he lives, his desire attained.
And so we in this life for a period
وَهَكذاand thus نَحنُwe فيin الدُنياthis world إِلىuntil أَمَدٍa term
وَهَكذا نَحنُ في الدُنيا إِلى أَمَدٍ
نَسعيwe strive وَنَركُضand we run وَالآجالُand the appointed deaths فيin الطَلَبِpursuit
نَسعي وَنَركُض وَالآجالُ في الطَلَبِ
And so we are in this world for a time,
Race and run while death hunts us down
We strive and run while our appointed deaths give chase.
Damn the fickle times that in their fluctuations
تَبّاًperdition لِدَهرٍto Time خَؤونٍtreacherous فيin تَقَلُبِهِits changes
تَبّاً لِدَهرٍ خَؤونٍ في تَقَلُبِهِ
يَضيعُis wasted العُمرlife بَينَbetween الجَدِّearnestness وَاللعبِand play
يَضيعُ العُمر بَينَ الجَدِّ وَاللعبِ
Perdition to Time, treacherous in its changes,
Squander life between seriousness and play
Life is wasted between earnestness and play.
Partial English translation: 49 of 50 Arabic lines translated.