علَّقتُI hung عُوديmy oud علىon صَفصافةِthe willow اليأسِof despair
علَّقتُ عُودي على صَفصافةِ اليأسِ
ورُحتُand I began فيin وَحدَتيmy solitude أبكيto weep علىfor الناسِpeople
ورُحتُ في وَحدَتي أبكي على الناسِ
I hung my oud on the willow of despair,
I hung my lute on the willow tree of despair
And in my solitude I began to weep for people.
And went alone in my solitude, weeping for people
كأنَّas though فيin داخليmy interior قَبراًa grave بوَحشَتِهِwith its desolation
كأنَّ في داخلي قَبراً بوَحشَتِهِ
دفنتُI buried كلَّall بشاشاتيmy cheerfulness وإيناسيand my solace
دفنتُ كلَّ بشاشاتي وإيناسي
As though within me lay a grave, in whose desolation
As if within me there was a grave with its loneliness
I buried all my cheerfulness and solace.
I buried all my joys and pleasures
ماnot قبرُthe grave حربٍof Harb ولاnor دربُthe road المُنخّلِof al-Munakhkhal أوor
ما قبرُ حربٍ ولا دربُ المُنخّلِ أو
دَفائنُburied treasures الجِنِّof the jinn شيئاًanything عندbeside أرماسيmy graves
دَفائنُ الجِنِّ شيئاً عند أرماسي
Neither Harb's grave nor al-Munakhkhal's road, nor
Neither a grave of war, nor a sandy path
The jinn's buried treasures amount to anything beside my graves.
Or tombs of jinn are anything to my shelter
فيهاin them وأَدتُI buried alive بُنَيَّاتٍlittle girls وأغلِمَةًand young boys
فيها وأَدتُ بُنَيَّاتٍ وأغلِمَةً
صُبحَradiant الوُجوهِof face عليهمupon them نَضرَةُthe freshness الآسِof myrtle
صُبحَ الوُجوهِ عليهم نَضرَةُ الآسِ
In them I buried little girls and young boys alive,
In it I buried structures and buds
Bright of face, with the freshness of myrtle upon them.
The faces of youth upon them the glow of misery
حفرتُI dug بالفأسِwith the axe فيin قلبيmy heart الضريحَthe tomb لهمfor them
حفرتُ بالفأسِ في قلبي الضريحَ لهم
وكنتُand I was أبكيweeping ويبكيand weeps الصخرُthe rock منfrom فاسيmy axe
وكنتُ أبكي ويبكي الصخرُ من فاسي
With an axe I dug their tomb in my heart,
With an axe I dug in my heart a tomb for them
And I wept, and the rock wept at the blows of my axe.
And I would weep and the rocks wept from my axe
خيرٌbetter لهمfor them وأدُهمburying them alive منthan موتِهمtheir death سَغباًfrom hunger
خيرٌ لهم وأدُهم من موتِهم سَغباً
أوor أنto يُبيحواthey yield مياهَthe waters الوجهِof the face للحاسيto the one who sips
أو أن يُبيحوا مياهَ الوجهِ للحاسي
Better for them to be buried alive than to die of hunger,
Better for them to bury them than their death in vain
Or yield the waters of their faces to one who sips them.
Or for them to allow the face's waters for the lewd
ياO قبرَgrave آمالِthe hopes نفسيof my soul فيin ثَرىthe soil كَبِديof my liver
يا قبرَ آمالِ نفسي في ثَرى كَبِدي
يسقيكَwaters you صضوبُoutpouring (unclear spelling) دَمٍof blood منfrom قَلبيَmy heart القاسيhard
يسقيكَ صضوبُ دَمٍ من قَلبيَ القاسي
O grave of my soul's hopes in the soil of my liver,
O grave of my soul's hopes in the dust of my liver
An outpouring of blood from my hard heart waters you.
Your sodden blood from my cruel heart waters you
زرعتُI planted فوقَكَabove you أزهاراًflowers بلاwithout أرَجٍfragrance
زرعتُ فوقَكَ أزهاراً بلا أرَجٍ
سَوداءَblack مرَّتpassed عليهاover them نارُthe fire أنفاسيof my breaths
سَوداءَ مرَّت عليها نارُ أنفاسي
I planted flowers above you, without fragrance,
Upon you I planted flowers without fragrance
Black, over which the fire of my breaths had passed.
Blackened by the fire of my breath passing over them
ماhow أروعَwondrous الزَهرةَthe flower السوداءَblack قدalready سُقِيَتhas been watered
ما أروعَ الزَهرةَ السوداءَ قد سُقِيَت
بدمعةِwith a tear القلبِof the heart تَحميهاprotects it يَدُthe hand الياسِof despair
بدمعةِ القلبِ تَحميها يَدُ الياسِ
How wondrous the black flower, which has been watered
How beautiful is the black flower watered
With a tear of the heart, protected by the hand of despair.
By the teardrop of the heart protecting it, the hand of despair
ياO يأسُDespair صُنهاguard it فإِنيfor I قَدindeed قَنِعتُI am content بهاwith it
يا يأسُ صُنها فإِني قَد قَنِعتُ بها
ولستُand I do not أبدُلُهاexchange it بالوَردِfor roses والآسِand myrtle
ولستُ أبدُلُها بالوَردِ والآسِ
O Despair, guard it, for I am content with it,
O despair, guard it, for I am content with it
Nor do I trade it for roses and myrtle.
And I will not replace it with roses and myrtles
إِنيindeed I جَعلتُكَI made you ناطُوراًa watchman لرَوضَتِهاfor its garden
إِني جَعلتُكَ ناطُوراً لرَوضَتِها
إِيَّاكَbeware أنlest تَجتَلِيهاbehold it أعيُنُthe eyes الناسِof people
إِيَّاكَ أن تَجتَلِيها أعيُنُ الناسِ
I have made you the watchman of its garden.
I have made you a guardian of its garden
Beware lest people's eyes behold it.
Beware that the people's eyes uncover it
وأنتَand you والحُزنُand sorrow كوناbe, both of you فيwithin الضُلُوعِthe ribs معيwith me
وأنتَ والحُزنُ كونا في الضُلُوعِ معي
إِنيindeed I عَهِدتُكُماI have known you both منamong خَيرِthe best جُلاسيof my companions
إِني عَهِدتُكُما من خَيرِ جُلاسي
And you and sorrow, dwell with me within my ribs,
And you and grief, be in my ribs with me
For I have known you both among my best companions.
I have known you both as the best of companions
كتَمتُI concealed أمرَكُماyour affair (both of you) دَهراًfor an age فضاقَso grew strained بناwith us
كتَمتُ أمرَكُما دَهراً فضاقَ بنا
ذَرعاًin endurance فُؤاديmy heart وأفشىand revealed السرَّthe secret أنفاسيmy breaths
ذَرعاً فُؤادي وأفشى السرَّ أنفاسي
I concealed your presence for an age, until we exhausted
I concealed your matter for an age, until
My heart's patience, and my breaths revealed the secret.
My heart was distressed and my breath divulged the secret
فإِنso if أَسِرI walk فيin ظَلامthe darkness الليلِof night مُستَتِراًconcealed
فإِن أَسِر في ظَلام الليلِ مُستَتِراً
فالحُزنthen sorrow يَسطَعُshines منfrom عَينيmy eye كنِبراسِlike a lamp
فالحُزن يَسطَعُ من عَيني كنِبراسِ
So if I walk concealed in the darkness of night,
So if I sneak in the darkness of night hiding
Then sorrow shines from my eye like a lamp.
Grief will shine from my eyes like a lamp
حُزنيmy sorrow غنايmy wealth فلوso if فرَّقتُهُI distributed it هِبَةًas a gift
حُزني غناي فلو فرَّقتُهُ هِبَةً
علىamong النُفوسِsouls لأثرَتwould grow rich أنفُسُthe souls الناسِof people
على النُفوسِ لأثرَت أنفُسُ الناسِ
My sorrow is my wealth; if I distributed it as a gift
My grief is my anthem, had I distributed it
Among souls, people's souls would grow rich.
As a gift upon souls, it would have enriched people's souls