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Arabic proverbs
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Proverbs
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«زَيِّ أُمِّ قْوِيقْ مَا تِهْوَى إِلَّا الْخَرَايِبْ»
Like the owl, which cares for nothing but ruined places.
The saying compares a person to the owl, called here by the diminutive folk name Umm Qwayq rather than a personal name. Just as the owl is drawn to ruined, desolate spots, the person described avoids crowds and lively surroundings, choosing remote, empty places over the company of others.
«اِلرَّك مُوشْ عَلَى صِيدِ الْغُر، اِلرَّك عَلَى نَتْفُهْ»
Catching the ghurr is not the hard part; plucking it is where the real work begins.
The saying shifts attention from the moment of getting something to the harder work of making it usable. Catching the ghurr, a water bird with stubborn feathers, may feel like the victory, but the real test is still ahead, and only a skilled hand will turn the catch into a meal.
«قَالُوا: يَا جِنْدِي عَزِّلْ. رَمَى الْقَاوُوقْ مِنِ الطَّاقَهْ»
The proverb sketches a soldier who is ordered to vacate his lodging and answers by tossing his cap through the window, though the final word can also mean a wall opening or niche. That one gesture completes the whole move, because the cap is the only thing he has to carry away.
«مَبْرُوكِ الطِّهَارَهْ يَا مَعَاشِرِ الْأَمَارَهْ»
Blessings on the circumcision, my noble lords!
The saying offers congratulations on a circumcision, the sense of الطهارة here rather than ritual purity or cleanliness, in a deliberately inflated, courtly tone. It addresses humble people as if they were an assembly of princes. The grand address is ironic, not sincere; the gap between that lofty manner and the actual situation creates the mockery.
«قَضِّيتِ الْعُمْرْ فِي قَهْرْ هُوَّ الْعُمْرْ كَامْ شَهْرْ»
I've spent my whole life in sorrow. How long is a life anyway, just a few months?
The weight of the saying falls on its closing rhetorical question, which asks for no number but pictures a whole lifetime as so brief it could be tallied in months. Measured against such a short span, any hope that hardship will eventually lift seems unrealistic, because no time remains for fortunes to reverse.
«اِلنَّعْجَه الْعَيَّاطَهْ مَا يَاكُلْشِ ابْنَهَا الدِّيبْ»
A ewe that bleats loudly never loses her lamb to the wolf.
The image is of a ewe that cries out at any sign of danger and stays close to her lamb, so the wolf never gets its chance. Whoever stays alert and raises the alarm keeps what they guard, while silent or careless guardians invite loss.
«اِللِّي لُهْ قِيرَاطْ فِي الْفَرَسْ يِرْكَبْ»
A person with a qirat share in a horse gets to ride it.
The saying connects having a qirat share in a horse with being entitled to ride that horse. It presents ownership, however expressed by that share, as carrying access to the animal.
«اِلنَّهَارْ لُهْ عِنِينْ»
Daytime is pictured as a watcher equipped with a pair of eyes. Whatever lies in the open under daylight can be observed, so details that darkness kept hidden come into view and a situation can be read clearly for what it really is.
«طُورْ أَجْرَبْ وِيْطَلَّعْ مَيَّهْ زلَالْ»
The ox may be mangy, but the water it draws is pure and sweet.
The saying sets an unsightly, diseased-looking beast against the clear, sweet water it hauls up from the well. However repellent the animal appears, its strength at the wheel yields something clean and valuable. The worth of the labor is judged by its result, not by the look of the one doing it.
«كُلْ قُرْصَكْ وِالْزَمْ خُصَّكْ»
Eat your own bread and stay put in your own little hut.
The saying advises a person to be content with plain food, pictured as a flat round of bread, and a humble dwelling, pictured as a simple hut of mud brick or sticks roofed with dried plants. Keeping to one's modest home is presented as better than wandering into the company and affairs of others, even when that home is poor.
«قَاضِي الْعِيَالِ اشْتَكَى رُوحُهْ»
Whoever sets himself up to judge children's quarrels only ends up bringing a case against himself.
The saying warns that anyone who appoints himself referee in children's disputes takes on trouble that is not his own. Children's quarrels have no clear right side and no lasting verdict, so the would-be judge ends up as the one aggrieved and burdened.
«إِنَ اسْعَدَكْ إِوْعَدَكْ»
If happiness is yours, it was promised to you long ago.
The saying presents good fortune as something allotted in advance. A person who enjoys happiness is viewed not as merely lucky in the moment, but as someone whose share of well-being was already destined.
«اِلإِيدِ اللِّي مَا تِقْدَرْ تِقْطَعْهَا بُوسْهَا»
If you cannot overcome a powerful hand, show it deference.
When a stronger person or force cannot be resisted, the proverb counsels restraint and outward accommodation rather than open confrontation. It presents submission as a practical response to unequal power.
«اِلْمُوتْ الَاحْمَرْ عِشْرِةْ مِنْ لَا يْوَافْقَكْ وَلَا يْفَارْقَكْ»
The saying calls a situation the worst kind of suffering, using "red death," an Arabic intensifier for a brutal end, not a disease or English literary allusion. That situation is close association with someone you constantly clash with who will not leave. The phrasing exaggerates for effect: it describes how unbearable the bond feels, not a real danger to life.
«لَا تَاخُدِ اللِّي يِبْقَى وَلَا اللِّي كَانْ»
Don't buy on what it might turn into, or on what it used to be.
The saying warns a buyer of livestock against two kinds of sales pitch. One promises that a weak or sick animal will turn good once it is treated and fed; the other praises an old animal for the strength it had years ago. Both ask you to pay for something you cannot see right now.
«السُّوسْ مَا يِلْعَبْشْ إِلَّا فِي الْخَشَبِ النَّقِي»
Woodworm only bores into the finest timber.
The image is of wood-boring insects that leave poor, worthless timber alone and burrow only into fine, sound wood. The insect's 'play' here means destructive boring, not amusement, and the wood is prized for its quality, not its cleanliness. Damage is drawn to what is valuable, so being targeted becomes a sign of worth.
«مُوتْ وِخَرَابْ دِيَارْ»
First a death, then the whole household brought to ruin.
The saying describes a grief that does not end with the death itself. The loss of a person brings a second wave of harm to those left behind, so the family must bear both the bereavement and the material or social collapse that follows from it. Diyār means homes or households, not a country.
«اِلْعَاقِلْ فِي غِفَارِةْ نَفْسُهْ»
A sensible person is their own bodyguard.
The proverb holds that good sense works as a personal safeguard. Its key word means guarding or protective escort, not forgiveness. A person with sound judgment recognizes what would hurt them and avoids it, and sees what would benefit them and pursues it, so their own mind does a guard's work.
«إِنْ فَاتَكِ الْبَدْرِي شَلَّحْ وِاجْرِي»
The saying urges persistence when another person has gone ahead first. Falling behind is not treated as a reason to quit; quick, determined effort may still let the latecomer close the gap and catch up.
«بِنْتِ الدَّارْ عُورَهْ»
A family’s own daughter is seen as unattractive.
The proverb says that people may disparage what is already theirs, treating a possession as less desirable precisely because they own it.
«مَا لْهَا إِلَّا النَّبِي»
Nobody but the Prophet can see us through this one.
The expression declares that a crisis has grown so serious that no human effort or ordinary helper can resolve it. The speaker signals that only the Prophet, sought for aid and relief, is left as a recourse against the calamity.
«اِلْكَارْ مِحْنَهْ»
Once you take up a trade, it never lets you go.
The saying treats a person's craft or skilled line of work, not buying and selling, as a trial they cannot escape. Whoever takes it up comes to love it so deeply that walking away becomes impossible, so the attachment itself, rather than the labour's difficulty, is the burden.
«أَنَا وْحَبِيبِي رَاضِي وِانْتَ مَالَكْ يَا قَاضِي»
We have settled it between ourselves, so why are you interfering?
The saying rebukes a third person who objects after the people directly concerned have reached an agreement. Once the matter has been settled between them, that person's intervention is presented as unnecessary.
«زَي سَلَّاقِينِ الْبِيضْ أَوِّلْ بِأَوِّلْ»
Like people boiling eggs, each one in and straight back out as it comes.
The saying portrays people whose scarce resources never stay with them. Whatever money or provisions reach them are consumed at once, because the amount is small and the need is pressing, so nothing is ever left over to build up or keep in reserve.
«يِقْتِلِ الْقَتِيلْ وِيِمْشِي فِي جَنَازْتُهْ»
He kills the man and then walks in his funeral procession.
The saying sketches a person who carries out a killing and then walks along in the victim's funeral procession. That jarring pairing of deed and calm presence serves as a measure of cunning pushed to an exceptional, even startling, extreme.
«بَابْ مَرْدُودْ شَر مَطْرُودْ»
A shut door keeps trouble out.
The proverb praises precaution: sensible barriers and careful limits can prevent danger before it reaches a person, household, or undertaking. Its door is a figurative image for any effective safeguard, not only a physical door.
«مَا حَدِّشْ يقُولْ: يَا جِنْدِي غَطِّي دَقْنَكْ»
No one would dare tell the commander to cover his beard.
The saying describes a person so powerful and overbearing that nobody around them feels able to offer advice. The 'soldier' here historically meant a powerful Turkish emir or commander, not a rank-and-file soldier. Even a trivial remark, such as suggesting he cover his beard, is unthinkable because speaking up feels too risky.
«اِلْغَرَقْ وَلَا الشَّرَقْ»
Better the flood than the drought.
The saying weighs two farming disasters tied to the Nile's yearly rise. Al-gharaq here means fields submerged by floodwater, not a person drowning; al-sharaq means land the flood never reached, not 'the east'. The flood is preferred because once it recedes a farmer can still sow a different crop. Parched ground offers no such second chance.
«رَبَّكْ وِصَاحْبَكْ لَا تِكْدِبْ عَلِيهْ»
Never lie to God or to your friend.
The saying singles out two relationships that must stay free of deception: the one with God, who already knows everything and cannot be fooled, and the one with a genuine friend or close companion who has placed trust in you. Naming these two does not excuse dishonesty in other dealings.
«اِلْعِيشْ مِنِ الْعِيشْ وِالدَّنَاوَه لِيشْ»
One loaf is as good as the next, so why stoop to scrounging?
The saying observes that bread is simply bread: here عيش means bread as food, though elsewhere it can mean life. The loaf on another person's table is no finer than the one at home, so reaching for someone else's food can only be explained by a mean, grasping character.
«مَا لْهَا إِلَّا رْجَالْهَا»
Only the right people can handle a job like this.
The saying holds that every hard or knotted affair has its proper handlers, and only they can set it right. Effort, goodwill, or authority alone will not untangle the matter; it needs people with the competence and familiarity to carry it through.
«اِللِّي يِكْرَهَكْ يُقُولْ: كُلْ مِنْ قُدَّامَكْ»
Someone who resents you will tell you to take only what is nearest to you.
An ill-disposed person tries to restrict another’s advantage, even in small matters. The saying portrays hostility as a wish to deny someone choice, comfort, or a better share.
«رَاسِ الْكَسْلَانْ بِيتِ الشِّيطَانْ»
A lazy man's head is where the devil makes his home.
The saying holds that a mind left without work or purpose does not stay neutral. The devil stands for temptation and harmful impulses: an idle person's thoughts become open ground where such ideas can settle and take root.
«كُلَّهَا يُومْ وِلِيلَهْ وَيِجِي الْحَجِّ الرُّمِيلَهْ»
Just one more day and night, and the pilgrims will be back at the Rumayla.
The saying shrinks a long wait to "a day and a night," a figure for a short span, not a literal travel time. It pictures the pilgrims, as a returning body, nearly home at the Rumayla, a square below Cairo's Citadel where the mahmal caravan's return was once celebrated. The awaited thing is closer than it feels.
«مَا الْتَقَى لُهْ عِيلَهْ جَابْ لُهْ خِيلَهْ»
With no family to turn to, he got himself horses instead.
The proverb pictures a man with no family to keep him company who acquires horses and keeps himself occupied with them. The animals give him something to do, but they cannot offer the closeness and belonging that kin provide.
«صَنْعَةْ بِلَا اسْتَادْ يِدْرِكْهَا الْفَسَادْ»
A trade learned without a master is bound to go to ruin.
The saying holds that a craft learned without a master (استاد, a colloquial form of أستاذ, meaning a master craftsman or trainer, not an academic professor) will end up flawed. Proper technique comes through apprenticeship and correction from someone experienced. Self-taught work, however confident, tends to carry hidden faults that eventually spoil it.
«اِلْفَارِ الْمِدَّفْلَقْ مِنْ نِصِيبِ الْقُط»
A mouse that runs about recklessly ends up as the cat's meal.
The saying warns that a person who flings himself headlong into every hazard, heedless of what may follow, practically offers himself up to harm. Just as a mouse that rashly exposes itself becomes the cat's prey, the reckless person invites the very misfortune that catches him.
«مِنْ هَمُّهْ خَدْ وَاحْدَهْ قَدُّ امُّهْ»
He was so unlucky that he married a woman his mother's age.
The saying paints a man as so dogged by bad fortune that even his marriage went wrong: the wife he took is as old as his mother. The comparison concerns age, not physical size, and the verb means taking a wife.
«اِلْغُرَابِ الدَّافِنْ يُقُولِ النَّصِيبْ عَلَى اللهْ»
It's the crow with food buried away that says our lot is in God's hands.
The saying exposes the easy piety of those who are already provided for. A crow that has buried food away for later can afford to say its allotted share of livelihood rests with God, because its next meal is secured. Professed reliance on providence costs nothing when a private store backs it up.
«تُمُوتِ الْحَدَادِي وِعِينْهَا فِي الصِّيدْ»
Even at death, they are still looking toward what they crave.
Deeply rooted habits stay with a person to the very end. Just as the bird of prey keeps watching for game even as it dies, someone shaped by a long-standing practice or disposition does not shed it, however much time passes.
«رَاحِتْ تَاخُدْ بِتَارَ ابُوهَا رِجْعِتْ حبْلَهْ»
She set out to avenge her father and came home carrying a child.
The saying pictures a woman who leaves home to avenge her father and restore the family's honor, only to return pregnant. Its force rests on an older view of pregnancy outside marriage as grave family dishonor: the mission meant to erase one shame delivers a worse disgrace.
«اِللِّي لا بُد مِنُّهْ لَا غِنَى عَنُّهْ»
You cannot do without what you truly need.
The saying expresses a straightforward truth about necessity: something indispensable remains necessary, however inconvenient it may be. It rejects the idea that a real need can be set aside merely by deciding to go without it.
«مِنْ عَاشِرِ السَّعِيدْ يِسْعَدْ وِمِنْ عَاشِرِ الْمَتْلُومْ يِتْلَمْ»
The saying holds that people absorb the qualities of those they spend time with. Living or working closely beside someone blessed, fortunate, and of good character, not merely cheerful, draws a share of that blessing onto oneself, until one comes to resemble that person in luck and in conduct.
«لَا يِضْرَبِ الدِّيبْ وَلَا يْجَوَّعِ الْغَنَمْ»
He won't hit the wolf, and he won't let the flock go hungry.
The saying describes a person who keeps on good terms with two hostile parties and is careful never to harm either one. He does this because their ongoing rivalry serves his own interests. He neither removes the threat nor turns against those it endangers. The tone is disapproving, not praise for even-handedness.
«لَا وِد وَلَا حَدِيتْ يِلِد»
Neither warmth in his heart nor charm in his words.
The saying points out that a person lacks the two qualities that usually make someone bearable: inner warmth that draws others close, and speech that is pleasant to hear. When both are missing, nothing is left to make up for the burden of their company.
«كَانِتِ الْقِدْرَه نَاقْصَه بِدِنْجَانَهْ صَبَحِتْ طَافْحَه وْمَلْيَانَهْ»
Just an eggplant short, and now the pot is spilling over with plenty!
On the surface the saying describes a pot that lacked only a single eggplant, a small, ordinary vegetable, and is then declared brimming over. It can describe a person who moves from scarcity to comfort, the small gap closing until the household seems suddenly well supplied.
«لَا دُرَّهْ وَلَا سِلْفَهْ دِي دَاهْيَه مِخْتِلْفَهْ»
She's no co-wife and no sister-in-law: she's a disaster in a class of her own.
The speaker measures someone against the two figures this traditional saying casts as sources of trouble for a married woman: a fellow wife in a polygynous household and the wife of her husband's brother. Having ruled out both labels, she declares the person something worse, a calamity whose harm exceeds anything those familiar rivals could inflict.
«يُومْ عَسَلْ وِيُومْ بَصَلْ»
Some days are sweet as honey, others sharp as onions.
Honey and onions are paired to mark two opposite kinds of days: one on which things go well for a person and one on which they go badly. Fortune is not fixed in place; it shifts, so the same person meets both favorable and unfavorable days.
«اِلْحَبِّ مْلَاحِقِ الْقَدُوسْ»
The grain keeps streaming through the hopper, one lot after another.
The picture comes from a grinding mill: grain is placed in an earthenware hopper pierced at the bottom, and it falls through in a steady stream onto the millstone. The saying uses this image for anything that becomes plentiful and arrives in close succession, each portion following hard on the last.
«حَسَدْنِي الْبِينْ عَلَى كُبْرِ شَوَارْبِي»
Even bad luck envied my big moustache.
The saying presents misfortune as an envious rival, begrudging the speaker even a large moustache. Its central point is envy directed at something that offers little or no real reason for anyone to feel jealous.