Language
Arabic proverbs
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Proverbs
Every proverb in this language, a page at a time.
«لَمَّا تُقَعِ الْبَقَرَهْ تِكْتَرْ سَكَاكِينْهَا»
Once the cow is down, knives come out from every side.
The image comes from slaughter: while a cow stands, no one approaches with a blade, but once it has been thrown to the ground, many people gather with knives to cut it up. The fall of the animal invites the crowd of cutters. A variant opens with 'if' rather than 'when', with the same sense.
«زَيِّ الْيَهُودْ وِشِّ نْضِيفْ وِجِبَّهْ زَيِّ الْكَنِيفْ»
Like the Jews: the face scrubbed clean, but the robe as filthy as a latrine.
The saying mocks a person who looks after only the part of themselves that others see first. The face is washed and tidy, yet the garment covering the rest, standing for everything beyond the face, is left as dirty as a latrine. It jabs at superficial care hiding neglect.
«غُرْبَهْ وِدِلَّاعَهْ»
Off abroad, supposedly to toil, but really just to live it up.
The saying punctures a pretense. Someone claims to have left home for earnest labor or ambition, but the speaker suspects the real draw was comfort, amusement, and being indulged, in the sense of coddling and leisurely ease rather than flirtation. The absence from home was a pleasure trip in disguise.
«كُل صُدْفَهْ خِيرْ مِنْ مِيعَادْ»
A meeting by chance beats one made by plan.
The saying ranks an unplanned encounter above an arranged one; خير here works as a comparative meaning 'better than', not simply 'good' or 'blessing'. Meeting someone by chance carries a freshness and ease that a fixed appointment may lack, so the surprise itself becomes part of the pleasure of seeing them.
«كِلْمِةِ الفُم فِي قَنَانِي لِدِرِّيِّةِ الدَّرَارِي»
Words from the mouth are bottled and stored for the generations that come after.
Once something is said, its effect is not lost. The proverb pictures speech as sealed away in a flask, a figure for storage rather than any literal practice, held in reserve until the speaker is paid back for it, however long that repayment takes to arrive.
«اِلْقَمْحِ يْدُورْ وِيِجِي الطَّاحُونْ»
However much the wheat wanders, it ends up at the mill.
Everything eventually reaches the end it was meant for. Wheat exists to be ground into flour, so no matter how long it is carried from place to place, its journey finishes at the mill. Delays and wandering do not change a thing's final purpose.
«ضَلَالِي وِعَامِلْ إِمَامْ، وَالله حَرَامْ»
Lost in error himself, yet he sets up as prayer leader. By God, that just isn't right!
The saying protests a glaring mismatch between a person and the role he takes on. Someone who has strayed from the right path, and who also misleads others, sets himself up to lead people in prayer. The closing oath is an indignant exclamation that this is wrong, not a formal religious ruling.
«لُولَا عِلْبِةْ مَكِّي كَانْ حَالْنَا يْبَكِّي»
Without Makki the perfumer's cosmetics case, we'd be a sight to cry over.
The saying pokes fun at beauty that comes from a cosmetics case rather than from nature. The speakers pretend to confess that, without the ointments and scents of Makki the perfumer, their true faces would be a pitiful sight. The point is that adornment is doing all the work.
«يَا وِدْنْ طِنِّي كُل سَاعَهْ خَبَرْ»
Keep buzzing, my ear, because there's fresh news every hour.
The speaker turns to their own ear, called by a colloquial word, and tells it to keep ringing or buzzing, since every passing hour delivers another report. The image is of sound filling hearing until it hums continuously, not of ordinary listening.
«اِلْقِردْ فِي عِينُ امُّهْ غَزَالْ»
To its own mother, even a monkey looks like a gazelle.
However unappealing a child may seem to other people, a parent's affection makes that child look beautiful and precious. The saying speaks to the high place offspring hold in their parents' eyes, a regard grounded in love rather than in any outside measure of worth.
«اِللِّي تِكْسَرْ بُهْ زَبَادِي هَادِي بُهْ الْفَخَرَانِي»
Instead of breaking pots, give their value to the potter.
The saying points out the futility of repeatedly breaking earthenware that must then be replaced. The money lost through the breakage could simply be handed to the person who makes or sells the vessels, with no object wasted in the process.
«غَابِ الْقُطِّ الْعَبْ يَا فَارْ»
The cat's gone, so off you go and play, little mouse.
The saying describes a moment when someone is no longer held back, because the person they fear has left the scene. The cat represents that feared figure, and the mouse represents whoever had stayed cautious while it was near.
«اِلشَّحَّاتْ خَرَجِتْ عِينُهْ وِصَاحِبِ الْبِيتْ عَلَى مَهْلُهْ»
The beggar is worn to his last nerve, while the master of the house takes all the time in the world.
The proverb sets two figures side by side. A beggar at the door has reached the end of his endurance; his eye "coming out" is a figure for utter exhaustion, not a literal injury. Meanwhile the householder inside moves at a leisurely pace, untroubled and in no hurry to answer.
«نَفْخِةْ إِصْطَبْلْ»
Just the friskiness of a horse fresh from the stall
The image comes from a horse or other mount that has stood in its stall, eating its fill and resting. When led out, it prances and seems spirited, but that liveliness is only a swelling of comfort, not breath or boasting. Once someone rides and works it, the show of strength quickly drains away.
«شَعْرَهْ مِنْ هِنَا وْشَعْرَهْ مِنْ هِنَا يِعْمِلُوا دَقْنْ»
Bit by bit, a hair here and a hair there, you end up with a whole beard.
The saying holds that wealth and plenty grow out of tiny pieces brought together. No single hair amounts to anything, yet many joined together form a full beard. Likewise, modest sums and small savings, gathered with care from various places, eventually add up to something substantial.
«لَا فِيَّ وَلَا فِيكْ مِنِ التَّل وَادِّيكْ»
It hurts neither of us, so I'll hand you as much as you like from the dirt heap.
The saying treats an exchange of insults as harmless to both people involved. Since the abuse does not really stick to either side, each one is free to pile as much of it on the other as he wishes. Nothing of value is lost.
«دَا حِلْمْ وَالَّا عِلْمْ؟»
Am I dreaming, or is this actually happening?
An exclamation of astonishment. Faced with something hard to credit, the speaker asks whether the moment belongs to sleep or to waking life. Here ʿilm means being awake and in touch with what is real, not learning or scholarship, signalling that what happened seemed too improbable to be real.
«اِللِّي مَا يْرُوحْ الْكُومْ وِيِتْعَفَّرْ لَمَّا يْرُوحْ الْحَلَّهْ يِتْحَسَّرْ»
If you avoid getting dirty at the manure heap, you will regret it at the threshing floor.
It warns that neglecting an unpleasant but necessary task early on can lead to regret when the time comes to see the results.
«اِمْشِي دُغْرِي يِحْتَارْ عَدُوَّكْ فِيكْ»
Conduct yourself straightforwardly, and your enemy will not know what to make of you.
Here, “walking straight” extends beyond physical movement to a steady, proper way of managing one’s affairs. Such conduct is portrayed as disorienting to a hostile person, who cannot readily make sense of the person before them.
«قَالُوا لِلصَّيَّادْ: اصْطَدْتْ إِيهْ؟ قَالْ: اِللِّي فِي الشَّبَكَهْ رَاحْ»
Asked what he had caught, the fisherman answered: "Even what was already in the net got away."
The fisherman's understated reply admits more than an empty day: the catch already in his net slipped away too, though the net itself was not lost. The saying pictures an effort that ends worse than it began, where the hoped-for addition never arrives and the existing stock is lost in the attempt.
«رِضِينَا بِالْهَم وِالْهَمِّ مُوشْ رَاضِي بِنَا»
We've made our peace with misery, but misery won't make peace with us.
The saying describes a person who has stopped fighting their hardship and simply learned to live with it, yet the hardship keeps pressing harder. Resignation, which ought to bring at least some quiet, earns nothing. Misery, here covering worry, grief, and hardship at once, is treated as a personified partner that refuses the truce offered to it.
«اِللِّي هَوِّنْ عَلَى الصَّيَّادْ يهَوِّنْ عَلَى الْقَلَّا»
When the catch comes easily, cooking it is easy too.
The saying expresses confidence that the power which makes the beginning of an undertaking easy can also bring its later stages to completion. Early ease is viewed as a hopeful sign that the remaining work may be manageable.
«زَيِّ بَرْجَاسِ الْكِلَابْ عَفَرَهْ وِقِلَّةْ قِيمَهْ»
Like a dog race: lots of dust and nothing worth having.
The saying mocks any rivalry or bustle whose only real product is a cloud of fuss. Dogs running against each other kick up plenty of dirt, yet nobody gains anything of worth when they finish. The image ties loud exertion directly to an empty result.
«اِللِّي يِبْكِي عَ الدُّنْيَا يِدَوَّرْ عَلِيهَا»
The person who mourns worldly loss is the one who keeps pursuing worldly things.
A person's concern reveals what they truly desire. Someone distressed by losing worldly advantages will continue seeking the attractions and benefits of worldly life; here, “the world” means worldly life, not the physical planet.
«زَيِّ الْمِزَيِّنْ يِضْحَكْ عَلَى الْأَقْرَعْ بِطَقْطَقِةِ الْمِقَص»
Just like a barber snapping his scissors to trick a bald customer.
The image is a barber who clicks his scissors above a bald customer's head. The sound suggests real cutting, so the customer believes he has hair worth trimming, feels pleased, and pays more. The barber earns money for work he never actually does. The verb often rendered 'laughs at' means fooling him, not openly mocking him.
«طَمَعَنْجِي بَنَى لُهْ بِيتْ فَلَسَنْجِي سِكِنْ لُهْ فِيهْ»
The greedy man built a house, and a man without a penny moved in.
A grasping man puts up a house hoping for rent, but the person who moves in has no money at all. The building is occupied yet earns nothing, and the expected income never comes. Both figures are named for their character and circumstances, not for any trade.
«مِنْ قِلِّةِ الْخِيلْ شَدُّوا عَلَى الْكِلَابْ»
With horses so scarce, they took to saddling dogs.
The image is deliberately ridiculous. When proper mounts run out, people try to saddle dogs and ride them, a substitute that cannot do the job. The picture shows how far circumstances have fallen, since a shortage of the right means has pushed them to a laughable expedient.
«يَا مْرَبِّي فِي غِيرْ وِلْدَكْ يَا بَانِي فِي غِيرْ مِلْكَكْ»
Bringing up someone else's child is like building a house on land that isn't yours.
The proverb pairs two futile investments: devoting yourself to raising a child who is not yours, and putting up a building on ground you do not own. In both cases the labor is real, but the final reward belongs to someone else.
«مِنْ عَاشِرْ غِيرْ بُنْكُهْ دَقِّ الْهَم سِدْرُهْ»
Mix with those who aren't your equals, and worry will batter your heart.
The saying warns that attaching yourself to someone who is not your true equal brings trouble, not comfort. The mismatch does not stay outside you. It settles inward as a heavy, recurring weight of care that sours the bond and wears down your peace of mind.
«بَرَّا وَرْدَهْ وْجُوَّا قِرْدَهْ»
A flower on the outside, a monkey within.
The saying describes someone or something whose pleasing appearance conceals an ugly, disagreeable, or defective inner reality. It cautions against judging character or worth from outward attractiveness alone.
«مَا كَانْ نَاقِصْ عَلَى سِتِّي إِلَّا طَرْطُورْ سِيدِي»
My lady had everything she could want; all she was missing was the master and his silly pointed cap.
The saying mocks a woman, the lady of a household, who married in the hope of bettering her life, only to find that her new husband, the master, brings her nothing. He drifts around the house to no purpose, so the marriage meant to relieve her becomes one more weight on top of what she already carried.
«عُمْرِ الْغَابْ مَا يْصَح مِنُّه اوْتَادْ»
You'll never make sturdy stakes out of reeds.
The saying holds that some things are simply the wrong stuff for a given job. Here الغاب means reed or cane, not forest, and the opening عُمْر means 'never': a hollow, flimsy reed will never become a sturdy peg, because it cannot bear the strain a stake must withstand.
«عَلَى قَدِّ حِجْلَكْ مِد رِجْلَكْ»
Stretch your leg only as far as your anklet allows.
The saying tells a person not to go beyond their own bounds. Its image pairs the leg with the anklet worn on it and asks that the stretch of the leg match that measure, so that a person's conduct stays within what properly belongs to them.
«اِلطِّفْلْ يِكْبَرْ وِالشَّعْرْ يِتْرَبَّى، حِزْنِي عَلِيكْ يَا سَاكِنِ التُّرْبَهْ»
Children grow up and cut hair grows back; it is the one lying in the grave I mourn.
When someone dies and leaves young children behind, the saying redirects sorrow. The children will mature over time, just as cut hair grows back, so their hardship is treated as real but temporary. Grief belongs to the person who has died and now lies in the grave, meaning the tomb rather than mere soil or earth.
«حَبِيبَكْ اِللِّي تْحِب وَلَوْ كَانْ دب»
Whoever wins your heart is your darling, even if that someone is a bear.
Affection follows its own logic. The person who becomes dear to us is the one our heart settles on and grows used to, not necessarily someone whose looks or qualities would win everyone's approval. Though the grammar is masculine, the beloved may be of any gender, or a cherished friend.
«قَالْ لُهْ: نَامْ لَمَّا ادْبَحَكْ. قَالْ: دَا شِيءْ يِطَيَّرِ النُّومْ»
The saying mocks a request that asks a person to assist in their own ruin. One speaker openly announces a harmful intention, sleep till I slaughter you, and still expects the other to relax and cooperate, while the intended victim points out that such knowledge makes the requested ease impossible.
«اِلْمِرْسَالْ لَا يِنْضِرِبْ وَلَا يِنْهَانْ»
You don't strike or shame the one who only brings the message.
Whoever delivers a message on another person's behalf should not be punished or disgraced for what it says. The carrier acts under instruction, so fairness requires that any resentment be aimed at the sender, not at the one who merely passed the words along. The line states how a messenger ought to be treated, not what actually happens.
«اِلطَّايْبَهْ لْحَنَكَكْ وِالنَّيَّهْ لْصَاحِبْهَا»
The ripe piece goes to your own mouth; the unripe one is left to whoever owns it.
The image pairs two pieces of fruit: whatever has ripened well is claimed for the addressee's own mouth, while the one still raw is left to the produce's owner, such as whoever is selling it, rather than to the addressee. Good and poor quality are divided along the line between oneself and another.
«اِلْعَاقِلْ تعْبَانْ»
Whoever has good sense is the one who gets worn out.
Good judgment carries a cost. Here the sensible person is someone prudent and of sound judgment, not necessarily learned or brilliant. Weighing outcomes and accepting burdens others shrug off leaves such a person more strained than those who act without reflection. The weariness meant is mental and moral strain, not illness.
«رِجِعِ الْعِجْلْ بَطْنُ امُّهْ»
The calf is back inside its mother's belly.
The image shows a calf that has already been born ending up once more inside the cow that carried it. The scene is impossible on purpose, a figurative picture of reversal rather than a statement about animals.
«اِلشِّرْكَهْ مَعَ الْأَجَاوِيدْ وَلَّا عَدَمْهَا»
Go into partnership only with good, generous people; otherwise, better to have no partner at all.
The saying sets a firm standard for partnership. One should join forces only with people who are open-handed, fair, and good-natured, not merely wealthy. If no such person is available, it is wiser to stay without a partner than to bind oneself to someone whose character is doubtful.
«بِفْلُوسَكْ حَنِّي دُرُوسَكْ»
If it is your money, you may spend it as you choose.
The saying defends a person's freedom to make even foolish-looking choices with resources that belong to them. Its deliberately absurd image—dyeing molars with henna—underscores that others may dislike a purchase without gaining authority over it.
«اِلْقُلُوبْ مَا تِسَّخَّرْشْ»
You can't order a heart to love or hate.
Feelings of fondness or dislike cannot be produced on command; hearts cannot be pressed into service, a sense distinct from mockery. Neither pressure, obligation, nor persuasion can force a person to love someone, or to stop loving them. The heart follows its own leaning, and forcing it fails.
«قَالُوا: يَا جُحَا، عِد غَنَمَكْ. قَالْ: وَاحْدَهْ نَايْمَه وْوَاحْدَهْ قَايْمَهْ»
When they asked Juha to count his flock, he answered: 'There's one lying down and one on its feet.'
The humor comes from a mismatch between a serious request and a ridiculous answer. Asked to count his flock as if it were large, Juha, the stock figure of Arabic folk humor, simply names each of his two animals by its posture, a playful description rather than a riddle. The quantity is so obvious that counting becomes absurd.
«الطَّشَاشْ وَلَا الْعَمَى»
Better to see poorly than not to see at all.
The saying weighs two bad conditions against each other and declares the milder one preferable. Hazy sight that falls just short of blindness is still a hardship, yet it keeps some ability that full blindness would take away entirely, so the speaker accepts the lesser trouble without pretending it is good.
«مَا تْعَيَّطُوشْ عَلَى فُخَّارْكُمْ دَا لُهْ عُمْر زَيَّ اعْمَارْكُمْ»
Don't weep for your broken crockery; it had its years to live, just as you have yours.
The saying discourages grief over a lost or broken possession by pointing out that objects, like people, have a natural span. An ordinary earthenware pot or jar was always going to crack one day, so its breaking is simply the expected end of its time rather than a real misfortune.
«مَا عَنْدُوشْ تِخِينْ إِلَّا الْفَل، وَلَا كْبِيرْ إِلَّا التَّل»
To him, nothing is weighty but burlap and nothing is great but a heap of dirt.
The saying targets a person who honors nobody for virtue or knowledge. In his eyes the only thing that counts as thick is the coarsest sacking, and the only thing that counts as big is a mound of earth, so sheer physical mass becomes the sole measure of importance he recognizes.
«زَي غِيطِ الْكُرُنْبْ كُلُّهْ رُوسْ»
Like a cabbage field after cutting, nothing but leftover heads.
The picture is a cabbage plot once the crop has been cut. What stays behind in the soil are the leftover bits of the heads, not whole, marketable cabbages: scraps no one gathers that serve no purpose. It suggests waste, not plenty.
«اِلزَّرْعْ إِنْ مَا غَنَى سَتَرْ»
Farming may not make you rich, but it will keep you decently provided for.
Working the land may never make a person wealthy, but it reliably yields enough to keep a family from falling into open need. The harvest meets daily requirements and spares the household the embarrassment of poverty that others can see. This covering protects the family's dignity; it does not mean hiding anything dishonest.
«حُطْ إِشِي تِلْقَى إِشِي»
Put something in, and something will come back to you.
The saying expresses a simple principle of return: whatever a person puts forward, whether kindness, labor, or harm, eventually comes back to them in a corresponding form. Actions are treated as deposits that later yield something of the same kind.