يا شعر أثخنّاكَ بالعلَلِ

يا شعر أثخنّاكَ بالعلَلِ

قَد كُنتَ قَبلاً باهيَ الحُلَلِ

قَد كُنتَ قَبلاً باهيَ الحُلَلِ

O poetry, we have sorely afflicted you with ailments.

O poetry, we have burdened you with afflictions,

Once you were resplendent in your robes.

Once you were beautifully adorned.

ما عُدتَ بالأمْجادِ مُبتَهِلاً

ما عُدتَ بالأمْجادِ مُبتَهِلاً

فالقومُ قَد زَجّوكَ في الوجلِ

فالقومُ قَد زَجّوكَ في الوجلِ

You no longer invoke glories in prayer,

You no longer plead for glories,

for the people have thrust you into dread.

As the people have pushed you into the mud.

ما كَرَّ قومي إنما أفَلوا

ما كَرَّ قومي إنما أفَلوا

لا عِزَّ للفُرّارِ في الوَهَلِ

لا عِزَّ للفُرّارِ في الوَهَلِ

My people did not charge; they merely faded away.

It is not my people's fault, they just declined,

There is no honor for those who flee in panic.

No honor for deserters in panic.

المطلعُ الشِّعريُّ بلَّلَهُ

المطلعُ الشِّعريُّ بلَّلَهُ

دمعُ الجوى من محْجِر المُقَلِ

دمعُ الجوى من محْجِر المُقَلِ

The poem's opening has been drenched

The poetic spring, tears of longing

by tears of heartache from the sockets of the eyes.

Have moistened it from the eye's tear duct.

قد نالتِ الأسيافُ مغْرزَها

قد نالتِ الأسيافُ مغْرزَها

ودمُ القوافي سالَ عَنْ أسَلِ

ودمُ القوافي سالَ عَنْ أسَلِ

The swords have reached their mark,

The swords have attained their sheaths,

and the blood of rhymes has flowed from spearpoints.

And the blood of rhymes has flowed from their wounds.

ورويُّكَ العَطشان أثْقَلَهُ

ورويُّكَ العَطشان أثْقَلَهُ

نَوْحٌ على ما ظَلّ من طَلَلِ

نَوْحٌ على ما ظَلّ من طَلَلِ

And your thirsty rhyme-letter has been weighed down

Your thirsty stream, weighted down

by lament over what was left of ruins.

By a lament for what was lost from the ruins.

الصَّدْرُ ضَجَّ مِنَ الهُمومِ وما

الصَّدْرُ ضَجَّ مِنَ الهُمومِ وما

داواهُ عَجْزٌ قُدَّ من شللِ

داواهُ عَجْزٌ قُدَّ من شللِ

The verse's breast cried out with cares, and no

My chest rattled with worries, not cured

helpless second half, cut from paralysis, healed it.

By the weakness poured from paralysis.

إنّا خذلنا الشعرَ من زمنٍ

إنّا خذلنا الشعرَ من زمنٍ

كَمْ من قصيدٍ قيلَ في الَعذَلِ

كَمْ من قصيدٍ قيلَ في الَعذَلِ

Indeed, we have long let poetry down.

We have forsaken poetry for a time,

How many poems have been uttered in reproach!

So many poems were composed in futility.

بالعشقِ عمَّدناهُ منتصراً

بالعشقِ عمَّدناهُ منتصراً

بالحبّ "رقَّصْناهُ " بالزّجَلِ

بالحبّ "رقَّصْناهُ " بالزّجَلِ

With passion we baptized it, triumphant;

With passion we made it victorious,

with love we "made it dance" to zajal.

With love "we made it dance", with folk songs.

ومَرارُ لا جدوى نُقطِّرُهُ

ومَرارُ لا جدوى نُقطِّرُهُ

في جُبةِ الأشعارِ كالوَشَلِ

في جُبةِ الأشعارِ كالوَشَلِ

And we distill the bitterness of futility

But bitterness is useless to filter it

into the robe of poems, like a trickle.

In the clothes of poems, like tatters.

قد كنتَ صوتاً صادِحاً طرِبًا

قد كنتَ صوتاً صادِحاً طرِبًا

واليوم مَدحوراً إلى الزّلَلِ

واليوم مَدحوراً إلى الزّلَلِ

Once you were a ringing, joyous voice,

You were once a heartening, thrilling voice

and today you are cast down into error.

And today, banished to the shadows.

يا شِعرُ أرهَقْناكَ مَعْذِرَةً

يا شِعرُ أرهَقْناكَ مَعْذِرَةً

قُدْناكَ مَأسوراً إلى الدَّغَلِ

قُدْناكَ مَأسوراً إلى الدَّغَلِ

O poetry, we have exhausted you—forgive us.

O poetry, we have overburdened you, forgive us,

We led you captive into the thicket.

We have led you captive into corruption.

إنّ الّذينَ "تَشَعْورا" فَجَروا

إنّ الّذينَ "تَشَعْورا" فَجَروا

نَقَعوا الكلامَ بِمَنْقَعِ الخَطَلِ

نَقَعوا الكلامَ بِمَنْقَعِ الخَطَلِ

Indeed, those who "posed as poets" transgressed;

Those who ignited "awakening", spilled

they steeped words in a pool of nonsense.

Words into the basin of nonsense.