بِالقَصرِat the palace مِنin بَغداذَBaghdad لاnot بِطياسِat Tiyas
بِالقَصرِ مِن بَغداذَ لا بِطياسِ
أَهيَفُslender-waisted مِثلُlike الغُصُنِthe bough المَيّاسِswaying
أَهيَفُ مِثلُ الغُصُنِ المَيّاسِ
At the palace in Baghdad, not at Tiyas,
In the palace of Baghdad, not in robes,
A slender-waisted one, like a swaying bough,
Is one graceful like a pliant branch,
كَالشَمسِlike the sun مَطبوعٌdisposed by nature عَلىto الشِماسobstinacy
كَالشَمسِ مَطبوعٌ عَلى الشِماس
يُخجِلُهُmakes him blush ماwhat بيis in me مِنَof الوَسواسِanxious thoughts
يُخجِلُهُ ما بي مِنَ الوَسواسِ
Like the sun, obstinate by nature,
Like the sun impressed on the sun-disk,
The anxious thoughts within me make him blush.
Ashamed of the doubts inside me,
لَيسَthere is no لِجُرحيfor my wound فيin هَواهُlove of him آسِhealer
لَيسَ لِجُرحي في هَواهُ آسِ
عَداهُmay it pass him by بَلباليmy anguish وَماand what أُقاسيI suffer
عَداهُ بَلبالي وَما أُقاسي
There is no healer for my wound from loving him.
My love for him leaves no wounds,
May my anguish and all I suffer pass him by.
He distracted me, I did not take heed,
يُسكِرُنيintoxicates me بِلَحظِهِwith his glance وَالكاسِand the cup
يُسكِرُني بِلَحظِهِ وَالكاسِ
سَقاكِmay it water you مِنof مَعالِمٍlandmarks أَدراسِfaded
سَقاكِ مِن مَعالِمٍ أَدراسِ
He intoxicates me with his glance and the cup.
His glance and wine intoxicate me,
May you be watered, O faded landmarks,
Quenching with streams of knowledge,
وَرَبعِand an abode لَهوٍpleasure بِاللَوىat al-Liwa طَمّاسٍeffaced
وَرَبعِ لَهوٍ بِاللَوى طَمّاسٍ
كُلُّevery مُلِثِّlingering الوَسقِrain-load ذيpossessing اِرتِجاسِrumbling
كُلُّ مُلِثِّ الوَسقِ ذي اِرتِجاسِ
And effaced abode of pleasure at al-Liwa,
And a garden of joys with bent boughs,
By every lingering, laden cloud that thunders.
Where every mellifluous bird trills,
وَلاand may it not عَداpass by ياO ظَبيَةَgazelle of الكِناسِthe covert
وَلا عَدا يا ظَبيَةَ الكِناسِ
عَهدَa bond of هَوىًlove لَستُI am not لَهاof her بِناسِforgetful
عَهدَ هَوىً لَستُ لَها بِناسِ
And may it not pass by, O gazelle of the covert,
By the doe of Kina, companion mine,
A bond of love—for I have not forgotten her.
The days of time change and nothing lasts,
أَيّامَdays when عودُbough الدَهرِtime غَيرُnot عاسِdry and hardened
أَيّامَ عودُ الدَهرِ غَيرُ عاسِ
ماnot وَخَطَتhad streaked يَدُhand المَشيبِgraying hair راسيmy head
ما وَخَطَت يَدُ المَشيبِ راسي
In days when time's bough was not yet dry,
Grey hairs did not line my head,
The hand of gray hair had not yet streaked my head,
Nor did time break my strong resolve,
وَالدَهرُand time لَمnot يَنكُثhad unraveled قُوىstrands أَمراسيmy ropes
وَالدَهرُ لَم يَنكُث قُوى أَمراسي
وَقَهوَةٍand wine مِنfrom خَمرِwine بِنتِBint (daughter of) راسِRas
وَقَهوَةٍ مِن خَمرِ بِنتِ راسِ
And time had not unraveled the strands of my ropes.
Coffee made from the wine of the daughter of Raas,
And wine from the vintage of Bint Ras,
Ruby-red, clearing away the gloom,
حَمراءَred تَجلوdispels ظُلَمَdarkness الأَغباسِnight-gloom
حَمراءَ تَجلو ظُلَمَ الأَغباسِ
رَبيبَةِfoster-daughter of القِسّيسِthe priest وَالشَمّاسِand the deacon
رَبيبَةِ القِسّيسِ وَالشَمّاسِ
Red, dispelling the darkness of night,
Of the priest and the deacon,
The foster-daughter of priest and deacon,
A coquette, shining on the sun-disk,
عانِسَةٍaged unmarried maiden تُجلىis unveiled as a bride عَلىdespite الشِماسِobstinacy
عانِسَةٍ تُجلى عَلى الشِماسِ
تَرويrecounts أَحاديثَtales أَبيAbu (father of) نُوّاسِNuwas
تَروي أَحاديثَ أَبي نُوّاسِ
An aged maiden, unveiled despite her obstinacy,
Telling the tales of Abu Nuwas,
Recounting the tales of Abu Nuwas,
Circulating in the court,
تُدارُis passed round فيin باطِيَةٍa wine-bowl وَطاسِand a cup
تُدارُ في باطِيَةٍ وَطاسِ
مَعwith رِفقَةٍcompanions أَكارِمٍnoble أَكياسِdiscerning
مَع رِفقَةٍ أَكارِمٍ أَكياسِ
Passed round in a wine-bowl and a cup,
With gentlemen, generous souls,
With noble, discerning companions,
In a garden of sweetest scents,
فيin رَوضَةٍa garden مِسكِيَّةِmusk-scented الأَنفاسِbreaths
في رَوضَةٍ مِسكِيَّةِ الأَنفاسِ
كَأَنَّهاas though it were وَجَلَّand he is exalted عَنbeyond قِياسِcomparison
كَأَنَّها وَجَلَّ عَن قِياسِ
In a garden whose breaths are musk,
As if, by God, beyond all measure,
As though it were—though he is beyond comparison—
The character of Shams al-Din, Lord of Joy,
أَخلاقُcharacter شَمسِShams (sun of) الدينِal-Din (the faith) رَبِّlord of الباسِvalor
أَخلاقُ شَمسِ الدينِ رَبِّ الباسِ
إِبنِIbn (son of) أَبيAbi (father of) المَضاءِal-Mada' خَيرِbest of الناسِpeople
إِبنِ أَبي المَضاءِ خَيرِ الناسِ
The character of Shams al-Din, lord of valor,
Son of the Full Moon, best of men,
Ibn Abi al-Mada', the best of men,
Life-giver, killer of want,
مُحييreviver of النَدىgenerosity وَقاتِلِand slayer of الإِفلاسِpenury
مُحيي النَدى وَقاتِلِ الإِفلاسِ
مُخجِلِone who shames صَوبِdownpour العارِضِthe cloud الرَجّاسِthunderous
مُخجِلِ صَوبِ العارِضِ الرَجّاسِ
Reviver of generosity and slayer of penury,
Who shames the slander of critics,
Who shames the downpour of the thunderous cloud,
Of untainted honor, free of faults,
مُنَزَّهِfree العِرضِhonor عَنِfrom الأَدناسِstains
مُنَزَّهِ العِرضِ عَنِ الأَدناسِ
زاكيpure الفُروعِbranches طاهِرِuntainted الأَغراسِplanted stock
زاكي الفُروعِ طاهِرِ الأَغراسِ
Whose honor is free of stains,
Of blooming branches, thriving roots,
Pure in his branches, untainted in his stock,
Easy charm, hard with a lance,
سَهلِeasy النَدىgenerosity صَعبٍformidable عَلىin المِراسِgrappling
سَهلِ النَدى صَعبٍ عَلى المِراسِ
فَعمِbrimful الحِياضِbasins فارِغِempty الأَكياسِpurses
فَعمِ الحِياضِ فارِغِ الأَكياسِ
Ready with generosity, hard to grapple with,
Bounty overflows his meadows, bags now empty,
His basins brimful, his purses empty.
His pleasure from praise, not wine,
نَشوَتُهُhis intoxication لِلحَمدِfrom praise لاnot لِلكاسِfrom the cup
نَشوَتُهُ لِلحَمدِ لا لِلكاسِ
تَخافُهُfear him الآسادُlions فيin الأَخياسِthickets
تَخافُهُ الآسادُ في الأَخياسِ
His intoxication is from praise, not the cup.
Predators fear him in thickets,
Lions fear him in their thickets.
If dreams grow dim, he's the pillar,
إِنif خَفَّتِgrow flighty الأَحلامُminds فَهوَthen he is الراسيsteadfast
إِن خَفَّتِ الأَحلامُ فَهوَ الراسي
أَوor مَرِضَfalls sick الزَمانُthe age فَهوَthen he is الآسيthe healer
أَو مَرِضَ الزَمانُ فَهوَ الآسي
If minds grow flighty, he is steadfast;
If the times grow sick, he's the healer,
Or if the age falls sick, he is the healer.
More ardent than a pack of zealots,
أَشوَسُfierce-eyed مِنfrom عِصابَةٍa band أَشواسِfierce-eyed men
أَشوَسُ مِن عِصابَةٍ أَشواسِ
غَيرِnot رَعاديدٍtrembling cowards وَلاnor أَنكاسِbase weaklings
غَيرِ رَعاديدٍ وَلا أَنكاسِ
Fierce-eyed, from a band of fierce-eyed men,
With no boast or idle chatter,
Neither trembling cowards nor base weaklings,
They ruled so were best ministers,
ساسواthey ruled فَكانواso they were أَحسَنَbest of السُوّاسِrulers
ساسوا فَكانوا أَحسَنَ السُوّاسِ
وُجوهُهُمtheir faces فيin اللَيلَةِthe night الديماسِpitch-dark
وُجوهُهُم في اللَيلَةِ الديماسِ
They ruled, and were the finest rulers.
Their faces in the dark night,
Their faces, in the pitch-dark night,
Glowing like the shining moon,
مُضيئَةٌshining كَالقَمَرِlike the moon النِبراسِthe beacon
مُضيئَةٌ كَالقَمَرِ النِبراسِ
كُلُّeach هِزَبرٍa lion لِلعِدىagainst foes فَرّاسِa mauler
كُلُّ هِزَبرٍ لِلعِدى فَرّاسِ
Shine like the moon, a beacon.
Every warrior, a keen scout,
Each a lion, a mauler of foes,
Veteran of battles with swords flashing,
جَدلُstalwart حُروبٍwars بِالقَناwith spears دَعّاسِfierce thruster
جَدلُ حُروبٍ بِالقَنا دَعّاسِ
فَذاكَbut that one نِكسٌa base weakling دَنِسُfoul اللِباسِclothing
فَذاكَ نِكسٌ دَنِسُ اللِباسِ
Stalwart in war, thrusting fiercely with spears.
While the other is filthy and stained,
But that man is a weakling, foul of dress,
Used to the ways of drunkards,
مَعَوَّدٌaccustomed ضَراعَةَcringing المَكّاسِthe toll-collector
مَعَوَّدٌ ضَراعَةَ المَكّاسِ
كَفّاهُhis two palms لاdo not تَدِرُّyield milk بِالإِبساسِwith coaxing
كَفّاهُ لا تَدِرُّ بِالإِبساسِ
Accustomed to a toll-collector's cringing.
Shame, as you heap on praise,
His palms yield no milk, even when coaxed;
Pliant to kindness, and he is harsh,
عارٍnaked وَأَنتَwhile you are بِالثَناءِin praise كاسِclothed
عارٍ وَأَنتَ بِالثَناءِ كاسِ
تَلينُyou soften لِلمَعروفِtoward kindness وَهوَwhile he is قاسِhard-hearted
تَلينُ لِلمَعروفِ وَهوَ قاسِ
He is naked, while you are clothed in praise.
Those who draw near gain nothing but despair,
You yield to kindness, while he is hard-hearted;
You brought me close and added to my bliss,
راجيهِone who hopes in him لَمdid not يَظفَرgain بِغَيرِanything other than الياسِdespair
راجيهِ لَم يَظفَر بِغَيرِ الياسِ
قَرَبتَنيyou drew me close وَزِدتَand increased فيin إيناسيmaking me feel at ease
قَرَبتَني وَزِدتَ في إيناسي
Whoever hopes in him wins nothing but despair.
And protected me from uncouth louts,
You drew me close and made me feel more at ease,
There’s no generosity or sympathy in them,
وَصُنتَنيand protected me عَنfrom مَعشَرٍa company of men أَجباسِvile
وَصُنتَني عَن مَعشَرٍ أَجباسِ
مافيهِمِnone among them سَمحٌgenerous وَلاnor مُؤاسِone who gives support
مافيهِمِ سَمحٌ وَلا مُؤاسِ
And shielded me from a crowd of vile men:
Death's better than begging from people,
None among them is generous or supportive.
You remained, as did charm and attire,
وَالمَوتُand death خَيرٌbetter مِنthan سُؤالِbegging from الناسِpeople
وَالمَوتُ خَيرٌ مِن سُؤالِ الناسِ
بَقيتَmay you live on ليfor me وَلِلنَدىand for generosity وَالباسِand valor
بَقيتَ لي وَلِلنَدى وَالباسِ
And death is better than begging from people.
The lofty pillars did not sway,
May you live on for me, for generosity and valor,
Of lofty build, firm foundation.
ماas long as رَسَتِstand firm الشَوامِخُthe towering peaks الرَواسيfirmly rooted
ما رَسَتِ الشَوامِخُ الرَواسي
عاليlofty البِناءِstructure ثابِتَfirm الأَساسِfoundation
عالي البِناءِ ثابِتَ الأَساسِ
As long as the towering mountains stand firm,
Lofty in structure, firm in foundation.
Partial English translation: 54 of 56 Arabic lines translated.