هَلْis there? فيin البكاءِweeping عَلَىover ماwhat فاتَhas passed منْany حرَجِblame
هَلْ في البكاءِ عَلَى ما فاتَ منْ حرَجِ
فذكرُهfor recalling it هَاجَstirred وَجْداًlonging كانhad been مدفوعاheld at bay
فذكرُه هَاجَ وَجْداً كان مدفوعا
Is there any blame in weeping over what has passed?
Is there harm in weeping for times gone by,
For recalling it stirred a longing that had been held at bay.
When remembering stirs intense longing once quelled?
ليكثرlet him do much الصَّبthe lovesick one مِنْof ذكرىremembering أَحبَّتِهِhis loved ones
ليكثر الصَّب مِنْ ذكرى أَحبَّتِهِ
فالذِّكْرُfor remembrance ماnot زالceased بِالتَّقريبِwith bringing near مقروناlinked
فالذِّكْرُ ما زال بِالتَّقريبِ مقرونا
Let the lovesick one often remember his loved ones,
Grief flows freely when loved ones come to mind,
For remembrance has always been linked with bringing them near.
For memory stays linked to those held dear.
إِلاَّexcept الشَّبابَyouth فلاfor it does not يلويturn back، وَذاكرُهُand whoever recalls it
إِلاَّ الشَّبابَ فلا يلوي، وَذاكرُهُ
مِمّاbecause of what يُكابدُhe endures لاnot ينفَكُّceases to be محزوناsorrowful
مِمّا يُكابدُ لا ينفَكُّ محزونا
Except for youth, which never turns back; and whoever recalls it
Only youth is heedless, remembering not,
Remains ever sorrowful from what he endures.
Enduring hardship, ever sorrowful.
وَرُبَّand many a ناعِمَةٍdelicate woman باتتْshe spent the night تُعِّيرُنيtaunting me
وَرُبَّ ناعِمَةٍ باتتْ تُعِّيرُني
فيon الرَّأْسِthe head شيباًgray hair وفيand on الخدَّينboth cheeks تغضيناwrinkles
في الرَّأْسِ شيباً وفي الخدَّين تغضينا
And many a delicate woman has spent the night taunting me
And many a once kind companion now mocks me,
For gray hair on my head and wrinkles on both cheeks.
Gray hairs disgrace me, and sunken cheeks.
وَصرتُand I have become أُدْعىI am called لهاto her عماًan uncle وَلستُand I am not بهone
وَصرتُ أُدْعى لها عماً وَلستُ به
وَقَدْand indeed تعوَّدتُI grew accustomed أَنْto أُدْعىbeing called أَخاًa brother حيناfor a time
وَقَدْ تعوَّدتُ أَنْ أُدْعى أَخاً حينا
I am now called her uncle, though I am not,
I'm called uncle, though I'm not,
And I had once grown used to being called a brother.
Once called brother, no longer.
لوافِحٌsearing blasts مِنْfrom مُصيباتِthe calamities of الزَّمانِtime لَقَدْindeed
لوافِحٌ مِنْ مُصيباتِ الزَّمانِ لَقَدْ
لوَّحنَthey scorched وَجهيmy face وَزنَّand they adorned الخُلقthe character تحسيناwith refinement
لوَّحنَ وَجهي وَزنَّ الخُلق تحسينا
Searing blasts from time's calamities have indeed
Misfortunes of time have struck my face,
Scorched my face and adorned my character with refinement.
Marring my looks, saddening all.
كُرّيturn back بِطرفِكwith your gaze فيover وجهيmy face تريyou will see أَثراًa trace
كُرّي بِطرفِك في وجهي تري أَثراً
منَof النّضارَةِfreshness فيwithin التغضينِthe wrinkling مكنوناhidden
منَ النّضارَةِ في التغضينِ مكنونا
Turn your gaze back to my face; you will see a trace
Look closely and see on my face a trace
Of freshness hidden within the wrinkles.
Of faded radiance in sunken cheeks.
ولاand do not تُراعيbe alarmed لإِيماضِby the gleam of المشيبِgray hair فَلمْfor I have not
ولا تُراعي لإِيماضِ المشيبِ فَلمْ
أُعدَّI am reckoned بعدُyet سوىother than خَمسٍfive وَعشريناand twenty
أُعدَّ بعدُ سوى خَمسٍ وَعشرينا
And do not be alarmed by gray hair's gleam, for I have not
Disregard the white of advancing years,
Yet been reckoned beyond twenty-five.
For I've not passed five and twenty.
تبسَّمَsmiled الشَّيْبُgray hair فيat فودِيَّmy two temples عنrevealing أدَبٍrefinement
تبسَّمَ الشَّيْبُ في فودِيَّ عن أدَبٍ
غَضٍّfresh وَرَأْيand the judgment of امرىءٍa man ماnot كانwas مَأْفوناfeeble-minded
غَضٍّ وَرَأْي امرىءٍ ما كان مَأْفونا
Gray hair smiled at my temples, revealing refinement
Gray hair smiles impudently on my cheek,
Still fresh, and the judgment of a man who was no fool.
Lacking reserve, with reckless disregard.
ليfor me منهfrom it ميسمُa mark of إِجلالٍreverence وتكْرمَةٍand honor
لي منه ميسمُ إِجلالٍ وتكْرمَةٍ
إِنْif كانis ميسمُthe mark of غيريanother الخِزْيَdisgrace والهوناand humiliation
إِنْ كان ميسمُ غيري الخِزْيَ والهونا
From it I bear a mark of reverence and honor,
To me it brings respect and esteem,
Even if another's mark is disgrace and humiliation.
If others see but disgrace and disdain.
كأَنَّماas though الشعراتُthe hairs البيضُwhite إِذْwhen سَطعتْthey shone
كأَنَّما الشعراتُ البيضُ إِذْ سَطعتْ
شُهُبٌmeteors لقدْindeed رجِمتْthey pelted دونيin defense of me الشَّياطيناthe devils
شُهُبٌ لقدْ رجِمتْ دوني الشَّياطينا
As though the white hairs, when they shone,
When white hairs shine forth
Were meteors that had indeed pelted the devils to shield me.
Like shooting stars, have they not warded off demons?
إنَّindeed الشَّيبةَgraying نارٌa fire إنْif خبتْit dies down تركَتْit leaves
إنَّ الشَّيبةَ نارٌ إنْ خبتْ تركَتْ
مِنَof المشيبِgray hair رَماداًash ثابتاًlasting فيناwithin us
مِنَ المشيبِ رَماداً ثابتاً فينا
Indeed, graying is a fire: if it dies down, it leaves
When white hair smolders, it leaves
A lasting ash of gray hair within us.
Only ash-gray residue deep within.