أذي عبقر في الأرض أم هي باريس

Is that Qabil in the land, or is it Paris? Are its inhabitants tormenting guards, or are they Frenchmen?

Are these women seen in its mire, or does a heavy beast of burden tread by at every moment?

Are these sparks that bring grief in the darkness to our minds, or are we looking at navigation lights?

Is the heavy sigh of the world seen in lit litters, passing like a lame camel or hurried mounts?

Yes, it is the shelter of hell and my witness is the wretched and unfortunate souls roaming its plazas.

Vice is there, and lofty figures who are depraved women upon studded couches, alongside impure ones.

Eating from the foul-tasting Zaqqum, and drinking from the dark drainage fluid served by Iblis.

And pillars where the demons drop by, as if founded upon every hidden wickedness.

Misery awaits whoever takes it as a home, and ruin to whoever settles down within it.

If hardship or distress has oppressed you through it, then flee from it, for that is relief from affliction.

Surpass it by letting a master of mischief wreak havoc, for between these two stations lies unity and kinship.

If you are one day desirous of a wish, seeing it brings utter despair to what was imagined.

It holds what offends the eye from every lady, and what the soul rejects and the prudent detest.

To recount what it contains of evil is a distress that surpasses all you feared, as a tangible reality.

It is the poisoned spring, fatal to the thirsty, and for its visitors, all evil gushes forth.

It is the dread of every calamity; nothing awaits the naive visitor there save dangers and misery.

Indeed, it is a speck in the eye of time; no one ever approached it without leaving in ruin.

No blessing within it is free from envy, nor any desire without being marred by taints.

It deprives the rightful person of his due; how vile a home where justice is defrauded.

No spiritual comfort is visible to the laborer there, save the destroyer of pleasures beneath the tombs.

Enveloped in the darkness of unbelief, tyranny, and shamelessness, from which the heat of vice is kindled.

From the like of it the rightly guided one spurs his mount, when such places are met and the camels arrive.

True life is elsewhere, so grasp its sweetness outside of it, for lingering there brands one as cursed.

Even if an abominable figure lagged behind you, you would find no true equivalent to its corruption.

If you play the game of desire there with a crooked staff of despair, eternal scowling follows.

You gather the fruit of sorrow from it, for the very root of forbidden things is planted within.

If the garment of glory is your standard, whoever lives in its vexing life is thoroughly stained.

Spend your nights patiently there and rise early for a bliss elsewhere untainted by delusions.

Never yearn for it even for a single night, lest you become like one whose happiness turned to ruin.

Your time in any other land is peaceful, your status elevated, and your well-being guarded.

Then bolt by night over every obstacle, assuming the night itself is utterly pitch-black.

It is no wonder if your life span increases by an epoch, for the barren individual finds multiple chances in the plains.

I used to fear death outside my homeland, but alas, my misery is that here I am already entombed.

Long did I warn myself against its corruption, until I spent my nights plagued by evil dreams and nightmares.

I found its ugliness exceeding all description, leaving no parallels or measurements behind.

Among these base folk are cunning foxes, yet untamed and ferocious lions when unbridled.

They are naturally fashioned for treachery and estrangement together, so do not let their deception fool you.

Should they surpass existence itself, they would outrun a body's shadow as it gets trampled.

Waves of doubt surge through their seas, and often dictionaries of error engulf them.

How many boastful pretenders among them use elaborate distortions to obscure the monuments of knowledge.

When truth shines through, a cryptic phrase or whispered hint is deployed to conceal it.

How many learned men among them use their surplus learning to bend the upright frame of time backward.

They attempt basely to tilt truth, yet proper scales refuse to balance in either of their hands.

Many an inarticulate speaker upon a rostrum offends listeners even if his message were delivered backwards.

The hidden flaw in his speech is so transparent that even a blinded eye perceives it from the corner.

How many debauched, unchaste men among them spend long, desecrating nights in blasphemous revelry.

How many foolish aspirants to rule among them lead battalions composed entirely of pens and papers.

How many intrusive parasites attend every feast, bold and ravenous in their gnawing greed.

They act as doves when visiting, beggars when asking, lions when seizing, and tyrants when subduing.

When asked they soften, when questioned they harden, and they surpass all others in stinginess when measured.

Possessed of a greed that puts human avarice to shame, their renown for it is as ancient as time.

Their cheerfulness toward guests is merely a claim of hospitality, while their promises are lies, delays, and evasion.

Their noblemen offer a home to the stranger only if he brings a wife and finds solace in her.

Their satires are chanted by every traveler, coming and going, recited by leader and follower alike.

They remain profoundly ignorant of this Arabic tongue and its people, hiding their ignorance behind studied study.

They have fabricated countless myths within it, leading their senior teachers and pedagogical methods far astray.

Youth achieve honor through knowledge elsewhere, but among them, books and manuals are utterly useless.

Tell those claimants who compete with masters that trying to rival the foremost is sheer madness.

Their slogan is liberty, fraternity, and equality, but beyond these words lies strict authoritarian law.

There is no distinction between the lowly and the base in judgment; their wealthy rulers enjoy boundless ease.

You see every individual arrogant and tyrannical, sharing in governance with voracious greed.

Their facial expressions offer clear signs that evil is a familiar companion to them.

Content with illicit provision, their general conduct is base and thoroughly tainted.

You would take every one of them for a den of suspicion, where greetings are exchanged with deceit.

My eyes have never beheld a virtuous man among them, nor anyone free from sin and pollution.

I find myself sorrowful and remorseful in their company, and whoever visits their land is truly cursed.

I have found lasting cause for grievance against worldly life, for Paris has poisoned it for all humanity.

My previous praise of it was an error; this poem serves as my expiation, though the speaker was brought low.