ماالحبُّlove is nothing إلاbut خفقةٌa heartbeat تتجدَّدُrenews itself
ماالحبُّ إلا خفقةٌ تتجدَّدُ
فيin وعيناour awareness نَبَضَpulsed الضِّياthe light المتمددُexpanding
في وعينا نَبَضَ الضِّيا المتمددُ
Love is but a heartbeat that renews itself.
Love is but a throb renewed
In our awareness, the expanding light pulsed.
In our soul the pulse of day unending
عبَّدتُI paved بالنَّجوىwith whispered confidences دروبpaths تردديmy hesitation
عبَّدتُ بالنَّجوى دروب ترددي
ذللتهاI smoothed them فيماwhile الرؤىthe visions تتجرّدُstrip themselves bare
ذللتها فيما الرؤى تتجرّدُ
With whispered confidences I paved the paths of my hesitation;
I paved with whispers my paths of return
I smoothed them as the visions stripped themselves bare.
Leveling while visions disrobed
بالحُسْنِby beauty بالسِّحرِby magic المُمَوْسِقِthat sets to music للمدىfor the expanse
بالحُسْنِ بالسِّحرِ المُمَوْسِقِ للمدى
أفكارناour thoughts فيin حصنهاtheir fortress تُستعبدُare enslaved.
أفكارنا في حصنها تُستعبدُ.
By beauty, by magic that sets the expanse to music,
With beauty, with the orchestral sorcery of space
our thoughts are enslaved within their fortress.
Our thoughts in its fortress enslaved
قالواthey said بأنthat السّربَthe flock يندبlaments حظّهits lot
قالوا بأن السّربَ يندب حظّه
لكنّbut بابيmy door للكآبةِto melancholy : موصدُbarred!
لكنّ بابي للكآبةِ : موصدُ!
They said that the flock laments its lot,
They said that fate bemoans its lot
but my door is barred to melancholy!
But my door to gloom is shut
يحكونthey tell عنof همّanguish القصائدthe poems عُنوةًby force
يحكون عن همّ القصائد عُنوةً
يتصنعونthey put on an act وفيand amid الدواهيcalamities أُرعدواthey were made to tremble
يتصنعون وفي الدواهي أُرعدوا
They speak of the poems' anguish by force;
They speak perforce of the concerns of poems
they put on an act, and amid calamities were made to tremble.
Feigning while in their haunts thundered
أنَّthat الضميرconscience وماand not جفتهforsook it مقاصدٌaims
أنَّ الضمير وما جفته مقاصدٌ
عندwith الذيthe one who ظنthought المحافلِthe assemblies تُقصدُare sought out
عند الذي ظن المحافلِ تُقصدُ
That conscience—and aims have not forsaken it—
That conscience and its dried-up purposes
is with the one who thought assemblies were sought out.
To one who deemed circles purposeful
لُذْseek refuge بالتجلِّيin illumination فيin خضمّthe sea of غموضهمtheir obscurity
لُذْ بالتجلِّي في خضمّ غموضهم
ودعِand let الفصاحةeloquence بالبديهةِspontaneously تُسردُbe recited !
ودعِ الفصاحة بالبديهةِ تُسردُ !
Seek refuge in illumination amid their sea of obscurity,
Revel in its ambiguity midst their gloom
and let eloquence be recited spontaneously!
Let eloquence with spontaneity flow!
إنّindeed المشاعرfeelings بغتةًsuddenly ترتادناvisit us
إنّ المشاعر بغتةً ترتادنا
والصدقand sincerity فيin الشعراءpoets لاnot يُتعمّدُis premeditated
والصدق في الشعراء لا يُتعمّدُ
Indeed, feelings visit us suddenly,
Feelings do come upon us suddenly
and sincerity in poets is not premeditated.
And honesty in poets is unintentional
صعدَrose المراوغُthe dissembler فيin مراتبِranks غيِّهِhis waywardness
صعدَ المراوغُ في مراتبِ غيِّهِ
وكأنماand as though فيin غفلةٍheedlessness يصّعَّـــدُhe struggles upward!
وكأنما في غفلةٍ يصّعَّـــدُ!
The dissembler rose through the ranks of his waywardness,
The wily ascended in ranks of his darkness
as though, in heedlessness, he were struggling upward!
As though heedlessly ascending
قفstop هلdo تراهُyou see him منfrom الشواهقthe heights مسرحًاa stage
قف هل تراهُ من الشواهق مسرحًا
آوىsheltered الدمىthe puppets كيso that يختصرهاmight sum them up المشهدُthe scene؟!
آوى الدمى كي يختصرها المشهدُ؟!
Stop! Do you see him, from the heights, as a stage
Stop! Do you see it a theater of heights
that sheltered the puppets so the scene might sum them up?!
That housed dolls to summarize the scene?!
صدقيmy sincerity رأىsaw نهجَthe path of الرزانةِcomposure شِرعةًa law
صدقي رأى نهجَ الرزانةِ شِرعةً
إنindeed البلاغةeloquence فيin الرزانةِcomposure آكدُmore assured !
إن البلاغة في الرزانةِ آكدُ !
My sincerity saw the path of composure as a law;
True saw the path of composure a law
indeed, eloquence is more assured in composure!
Eloquence indeed in composure confirmed
لاهمَّno anguish فيin نظمstringing القلائدnecklaces إنماrather
لاهمَّ في نظم القلائد إنما
الهمُّanguish فيin صدريmy chest أناI myself يستأسدُgrows lion-like
الهمُّ في صدري أنا يستأسدُ
There is no anguish in stringing necklaces; rather,
No worry in stringing necklaces but
the anguish in my own chest grows fierce as a lion.
Worry in my chest roars
عرشُthe throne of القريضِverse مرصّعstudded بهواجسٍwith anxieties
عرشُ القريضِ مرصّع بهواجسٍ
ألفٌa thousand سعواthey strove كيso as to يعتلوهُascend it فشرِّدواand so were driven away
ألفٌ سعوا كي يعتلوهُ فشرِّدوا
The throne of verse is studded with anxieties;
The throne of poetry adorned with obsessions
a thousand strove to ascend it, then were driven away.
A thousand strove to ascend it and scattered
شكِّيmy doubt علىupon فلكِthe orbit of التساؤلquestioning ينحنيbends
شكِّي على فلكِ التساؤل ينحني
فتغيثُهُand so aid it شُهُبُmeteors اليقينِcertainty وتُنجدُand rescue
فتغيثُهُ شُهُبُ اليقينِ وتُنجدُ
My doubt bends upon the orbit of questioning,
Complain to the orbit of questioning leaning
so the meteors of certainty bring it relief and rescue it.
Its pleas by certitude's meteors aided
الحزنُsorrow وسمٌa brand فيon وجوهِthe faces of قصائديmy poems
الحزنُ وسمٌ في وجوهِ قصائدي
ونمتand grew علىupon خدِّthe cheek of الفنونِthe arts لهُfor it يــدُa hand
ونمت على خدِّ الفنونِ لهُ يــدُ
Sorrow is a brand upon the faces of my poems,
Sorrow is a poison in the faces of my poems
and upon the cheek of the arts, a hand has grown for it.
And on the cheek of arts for it a hand grew
Claude 2 is inferred from the historical translator configuration. The original record does not identify its model.