ماء الحياة بشعري ثمَّ منبعه

ماء الحياة بشعري ثمَّ منبعه

ما الشعر لم يَتَمثلْ كائنا حيا؟

ما الشعر لم يَتَمثلْ كائنا حيا؟

The water of life has its source there, in my poetry.

The water of life is in my poetry, then its spring

What is poetry if it does not take the form of a living being?

What is poetry if it does not embody a living being?

على محياه يبدو وجْهُ صاحبه

على محياه يبدو وجْهُ صاحبه

إن اختفى وجه ذا فالشعر لا شيَّا

إن اختفى وجه ذا فالشعر لا شيَّا

On its countenance, its author's face appears.

On his cheek appears the face of its owner

If his face disappears, then poetry is nothing.

If the face of this one disappears, poetry is nothing

كن شاعرا يتمرأى في قصيدته

كن شاعرا يتمرأى في قصيدته

يراه قارئه يمشي بها مشيا

يراه قارئه يمشي بها مشيا

Be a poet mirrored in his poem;

Be a poet who is reflected in his poem

His reader sees him truly walking within it.

His reader sees him walking with it

يجني القوافي من الإلهام يانعة

يجني القوافي من الإلهام يانعة

خيل القريض له تجري ولا تعيا

خيل القريض له تجري ولا تعيا

He harvests ripe rhymes from inspiration.

He reaps rhymes from inspiration ripely

The horses of verse run for him and do not tire.

The steeds of verse run for him without tiring

يسقيه من نبضه صدقا ويترعه

يسقيه من نبضه صدقا ويترعه

شدوا ومعنى جميلا يوقظ الوعيا

شدوا ومعنى جميلا يوقظ الوعيا

He waters it with truth from his pulse and fills it to the brim

He quenches him from his pulse, sincerely, and makes him drink

With song and a beautiful meaning that awakens awareness.

Melody and beautiful meaning that awakens consciousness

لا يشبع المتلقي من فواكهه

لا يشبع المتلقي من فواكهه

و عنه ليس يطيق البعد والنأيا

و عنه ليس يطيق البعد والنأيا

The reader never has enough of its fruits,

The recipient is never sated by its fruits

And cannot bear distance and separation from it.

And cannot bear distance or separation from it

هذا هو الشعر في أنقى معادنه

هذا هو الشعر في أنقى معادنه

فاحذر به الشوْب يا ذا الذوقِ والليّا

فاحذر به الشوْب يا ذا الذوقِ والليّا

This is poetry in the purest of its metals;

This is poetry in its purest ores

So beware of adulteration and distortion in it, O person of taste.

So beware corrupting it, O refined and acute one