لَيسَis not المَشيبُgray hair بذنبٍa sin
لَيسَ المَشيبُ بذنبٍ
فَلاso do not تعُدّيهِcount it ذَنباa sin
فَلا تعُدّيهِ ذَنبا
Gray hair is no sin,
so do not count it a sin.
غُصِبتُI was robbed of شَرخَthe prime of شَبابيmy youth
غُصِبتُ شَرخَ شَبابي
بِالليلِby night والصُّبحand morning غَصْباby force
بِالليلِ والصُّبح غَصْبا
I was robbed of my youth's prime,
by night and morning, by force.
فَشَبّso flared شَيبُthe gray of عِذاريmy sideburns
فَشَبّ شَيبُ عِذاري
كَماjust as اِشتَهىdesired الدَّهرTime شبّاflaring up
كَما اِشتَهى الدَّهر شبّا
So the gray of my sideburns flared,
just as Time wished it to flare.
إِنْif كُنتُI was بُدِّلتI was changed لَوناًin color
إِنْ كُنتُ بُدِّلت لَوناً
فَماthen not تَبَدّلتI changed حبّاin love
فَما تَبَدّلت حبّا
If I have been changed in color,
I have not changed in love.
أَوor كنتُI was بوعِدتُI was kept distant جسماًin body
أَو كنتُ بوعِدتُ جسماً
فَماthen not تَباعدتُI grew distant قلباat heart
فَما تَباعدتُ قلبا
Or if I have been kept distant in body,
I have not grown distant at heart.
فَكُلّماfor whenever شابَturned gray رَأسيmy head
فَكُلّما شابَ رَأسي
نَماgrew غَراميmy passion وشبّاand flared
نَما غَرامي وشبّا
For whenever my head grows grayer,
my passion grows and flares.
ياO مُرّةَbitter الظُّلمِinjustice طَعماًin taste
يا مُرّةَ الظُّلمِ طَعماً
وَحُلْوَةَand sweet الظَّلمِsaliva شِرْباto drink
وَحُلْوَةَ الظَّلمِ شِرْبا
O you whose injustice tastes bitter,
and whose saliva is sweet to drink,
رضِيconsented مُحبُّكِyour lover قَسْراًunder compulsion
رضِي مُحبُّكِ قَسْراً
بِأَنْto the fact that تَزوريهِyou visit him غِبّاat intervals
بِأَنْ تَزوريهِ غِبّا
your lover has consented, under compulsion,
to your visiting him only at intervals.
وَماand not يُبالِيhe cares وَسِلْمٌwhile at peace
وَما يُبالِي وَسِلْمٌ
واديكِyour valley مَنْwhoever كانَwas حَرباan enemy
واديكِ مَنْ كانَ حَربا
And he cares not, while peace reigns
in your valley, who may be his foe.