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Arabic proverbs

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Proverbs

Every proverb in this language, a page at a time.

  • «إِمْسِكِ الْبَاطِلْ لَمَّا يْجِيكِ الْحَق»

    Stick with the mistaken view until the truth becomes clear.

    The saying addresses the interval before a sound answer is available. Although its opening wording can seem to endorse falsehood, it presents an erroneous position only as something temporary, not as a conviction to defend or a standard for judgment.

  • «اِللِّي تِتْغَيَّرْ مَحَبِّتُهْ يِغَيَّرْ مِخَدِّتُهْ»

    When a man's love for his wife changes, he leaves her for another wife and lays his head on a new pillow.

    The pillow is a figurative emblem of the marital bed, not literal bedding. Changing it signifies an altered intimate household arrangement through a change of wife.

  • «مِنْ دَا جَا دَهْ يَا سِي الْخَوَاجَهْ»

    Sir merchant, this one and that one are cut from the same cloth.

    The saying observes that a set of things closely resemble one another, so that each seems to have come from the same mold as the next. Its point is that distinctions drawn among them are slight, and treating one as clearly superior to the rest is hard to justify.

  • «اِلرِّغِيفِ اللَّامِعْ لِلصَّاحِبِ النَّافِعْ»

    The best loaf goes to the friend who does you good.

    The proverb holds that the finest portion of what you can give belongs to the person who actually does you good. Kindness and generosity, in this view, should flow first toward those who have shown themselves helpful, rather than being spread evenly regardless of conduct.

  • «مَا تِفْعَلُه الْآبَاءْ مِخَلَّفْ لِلْأَبْنَاءْ»

    Whatever parents do becomes their children's inheritance.

    The proverb holds that a parent's conduct does not end with the parent. Whatever a father or mother does, whether generous or shameful, leaves something behind that the children receive. This can be a reputation, a set of habits, or the results of earlier choices. Though the wording names fathers and sons, it applies to parents and children generally.

  • «تُعْرُجْ قُدَّامْ مِكَسَّحْ؟!»

    You're putting on a limp for someone who can't even walk, and expecting help from him?

    The saying rebukes someone who feigns weakness or need to gain help or advantage, but directs the display at a person unable to provide it. The attempt fails because it is made before the wrong person.

  • «يَا قَنْدِيلِينْ وِشَمْعَةْ يَا فِي الضَّلْمَةْ جُمْعَهْ»

    It's either two lamps and a candle, or a whole week sitting in darkness.

    The saying pictures someone who insists on lighting two lamps and a candle or else sits in darkness for an entire week; the repeated يا frames this as an either/or choice. It mocks the stubborn, foolish person who would rather go without altogether than settle for a modest amount of something he cannot have in abundance.

  • «اِلْمُوتْ مِكَبَّهْ مِنْ ذَهَبْ لِمَنْ ذَهَبْ»

    For the one who departs, death is a golden lid that hides everything.

    Here death acts as a screen between a person and the gaze of others. When someone stands close to being exposed, whether because prosperity has collapsed into want or because of some other disgraceful matter, an end that arrives first keeps the humiliation from ever coming to light.

  • «يَا بَخْتْ مِنْ كَانِ النِّقِيبْ خَالُهْ»

    Lucky is the one whose uncle is the chief!

    The saying marvels at the good fortune of a person who has a powerful man among their close kin. Having the naqib, whether headman, group head, or official, as one's maternal uncle stands for any influential relative whose position can help a family member.

  • «اِلْعُونَهْ يَا فَلَّاحِينْ مِنْ كُل بَلَدْ رَاجِلْ»

    Off to forced labor, peasants? Then one man from each village.

    The line stages a short exchange about a past practice. Peasants are summoned to العونة, here not voluntary aid but compulsory unpaid village labor such as canal digging, now abolished. One of them replies that each village should send just one man, accepting the work but objecting to one place supplying the whole quota.

  • «إِنْتَ شِيخْ وَالَّا حَد قَالْ لَكْ»

    Are you a mind-reader, or did somebody tell you?

    This is said in surprise when someone seems to know a thought, intention, or piece of information that the speaker never openly shared. It challenges how that person could have known it, often with a playful edge.

  • «اِلْمَيَّهْ وِالنَّارْ وَلَا حَمَاتِي فِي الدَّارْ»

    Flood and fire, sooner than my mother-in-law under my roof.

    The speaker ranks the dangers of a home and puts the mother-in-law above flood and fire, where "water" means a drowning flood, not ordinary water. The speaker would face either disaster sooner than share the house with this woman. The comparison is deliberately extreme, making the complaint sharp and funny rather than a literal wish for calamity.

  • «كُتْرِ السَّلَامْ يِقِلِّ الْمعْرِفَهْ»

    Too many greetings wear a friendship thin.

    Here 'acquaintance' means friendship or companionship, not learning or information. Greeting a friend is a courtesy that normally builds closeness, yet the saying holds that heaping on greetings beyond measure works in reverse, so the very friendship those greetings were meant to nourish ends up diminished rather than strengthened.

  • «عُمْرِ النِّسَا مَا تْرَبِّي عِجْلِ وْيِحْرِتْ»

    Women will never raise a calf that can plow.

    Through a farming image, the saying claims that a calf reared by a woman never becomes a working plow animal, supposedly because her care leaves it untrained and unfit for hard labor in the field.

  • «اِلْخُنْفِسَهْ عَنْدُ امَّهَا عَرُوسَهْ»

    To its own mother, even a beetle is a bride.

    The saying describes how a mother's love transforms what she sees. Her own child, however plain to others, appears to her as lovely as a bride on her wedding day, a woman at her most adorned and admired. The humor rests on the beetle being commonly seen as an unattractive creature.

  • «اِللِّي يْدُق سِدْرُهْ يِدْفَعِ اِللِّي عَلِيهْ»

    Anyone who puts on a show of strength should settle their debts.

    The saying rebukes someone who advertises power, confidence, or financial ability while leaving debts unpaid. A public display of capability makes it fitting to expect that the person will first pay what is already owed.

  • «زَيِّ الطَّوَاحِينْ إِنْ بَطَّلِتْ تِلْحَسْهُمِ الْكِلَابْ»

    Like idle mills, which the dogs come to lick.

    The picture is of mills that have stopped grinding. Flour is still stuck to them, so dogs gather and lick them over at will. The proverb uses this scene to show how something once busy and productive becomes an easy target as soon as its work comes to a halt.

  • «اِللِّي مَا تِعْرَفْشْ تُرْقُصْ تُقُولْ الْأَرْضْ عُوجَهْ»

    A poor dancer blames the uneven floor.

    The saying criticizes someone who lacks the ability to do a task yet shifts responsibility to external circumstances. Rather than acknowledging a weakness or trying to improve, the person offers an excuse designed to make failure seem unavoidable.

  • «مَالُهْ رَايِحْ وِعرْضُهْ فَايِحْ؟»

    His money's gone, and his name reeks into the bargain?

    The saying condemns a double loss. A person's wealth has drained away, and instead of gaining anything in return, his honor has been tarnished and scandal about him has spread like a bad smell. The money is gone, and so is his standing.

  • «شَنْقْ وَالَّا خَنْقْ؟ قَالْ: كُلُّهْ فِي الرَّقَبَهْ»

    Hanged or throttled? Either way, it's my neck that pays.

    The saying sets up a mock dilemma: someone is asked whether they prefer being hanged or being strangled. Since hanging is itself a form of strangling, the reply brushes the question aside: both target the same neck and end the same way. Picking between them changes nothing that matters.

  • «تَحْتِ الْبَرَاقِعْ سِم نَاقِعْ»

    A pleasing exterior may conceal something dangerous.

    The saying warns that an attractive or polished appearance should not be accepted as proof of goodness. What looks refined, harmless, or appealing on the surface may hide a harmful character, motive, or consequence.

  • «سَمَكْ فِي مَيَّهْ»

    Like fish swimming in water: all mixed together, with no way to see what goes on among them.

    The picture is of many fish moving together beneath the surface, where an onlooker cannot follow any single one or see what passes between them. It describes a state of dense intermingling in which the details stay out of view.

  • «بَعْدْ مَا رَاحِ الْمَقْبَرَهْ بَقَى فِي حَنَكُهْ سُكَّرَهْ»

    Once he was in the grave, his mouth was suddenly full of sweetness.

    The saying mocks a change of tune: someone who received little regard while alive and present becomes the subject of warm tributes once gone. The kind words arrive when that person can no longer hear them or benefit from them.

  • «مَالَقُوشْ فِي الْوَرْدْ عِيبْ قَالُوا: يَا احْمَرِ الْخَدِّينْ»

    When they could find nothing wrong with the rose, they jeered at it for its red cheeks.

    The saying pictures critics who examine a rose, search for something wrong with it, and come up empty. Unwilling to admit it is flawless, they seize on its red color, the very feature that makes it lovely, and turn what sounds like a compliment into a mocking jibe.

  • «اِللِّي صْبَاعُهْ فِي الْمَيَّهْ مُوشْ زَيِّ اِللِّي صْبَاعُهْ فِي النَّارْ»

    A person untouched by the pain cannot be compared with the person enduring it.

    The proverb contrasts detached observation with direct suffering. A person who is comfortable or only loosely involved cannot fully feel the urgency, hurt, or pressure borne by someone at the center of a difficult situation.

  • «اِللُّقْمَه الْكِبِيرَهْ تُقَفْ فِي الزُّورْ»

    A mouthful that is too big gets stuck in your throat.

    The image is a mouthful so large that it cannot go down, catching in the throat and making the eater choke. The proverb turns this into a lesson about proportion: what is swallowed must suit the one swallowing it.

  • «كُل عُقْدَه وْلَهَا حَلَّالْ»

    For every knot, there is someone who can undo it.

    No difficulty is truly beyond resolution. However tightly a problem appears to be bound, something will eventually loosen it, whether a person, a circumstance, or simply time; the saying leaves open which, so giving up hope is premature.

  • «جِبْتَكْ يَا عَبْدِ الْمُعِينْ تِعِنِّي لقِيتَكْ يَاعَبْدِ الْمُعِينْ تِنْعَانْ»

    I turned to you, Abd al-Mu'in, hoping you would rescue me, and found you needing rescue yourself.

    A person in difficulty seeks out someone named Abd al-Mu'in, roughly 'servant of the Helper,' a name chosen because it evokes aid and echoes the saying's wordplay. He stands for a type of hoped-for helper, not a particular person. He turns out to be in trouble too, more in need of support than the seeker.

  • «قَاعْدَهْ عَ الْبَرَّانِي وَاضْرَبْ بِلْسَانِي»

    Planted by the yard oven, I do nothing but run my mouth.

    The saying pictures someone seated beside al-barrani, here the oven built in a house's open yard rather than a person, where bread would normally be prepared. They do nothing there but 'strike with the tongue', meaning talk a great deal, not strike anyone. The oven marks a place of labor, occupied with words alone.

  • «اِلْجَادَّهْ وَلَو طَالِتْ»

    Stay on the clear road, even when it takes longer.

    The proverb advises staying on the main, plainly marked path even when it takes longer. Its central contrast is between dependable direction and shortcuts whose turns and branches may lead a person off course.

  • «قُط خُلْصْ وَلَا جَمَلْ شِرْكْ»

    Better a little cat that is yours alone than a camel you share with others.

    The saying holds that a modest thing belonging wholly to oneself is worth more than a large, valuable thing whose ownership is split with others. The humble cat, kept outright, is preferred over the far grander camel held jointly.

  • «اِلشَّرْطْ عَنْدِ الْمحْرَاتْ يِرَيَّحْ عَنْدِ الْعُرْمَهْ»

    Terms settled at ploughing time make for peace when the harvest is divided.

    The saying recommends fixing the terms of any shared undertaking at its very beginning. Just as farmers who agree on their shares in the ploughing season, when the farming cycle starts, avoid quarrels later, people who spell out obligations early spare themselves conflict when the threshed crop is heaped and divided.

  • «اِلْخَبَرِ الْمَشُومْ يِوْصَلْ بِالْعَجَلْ»

    Unlucky news always seems to show up in a hurry.

    The saying holds that ill-omened tidings reach people remarkably fast. Such reports seem to arrive before anyone is prepared, as if misfortune were rushing to be delivered. The stress falls on news that bodes ill, not merely news that is unpleasant.

  • «مِينْ يِشْهَدْ لِلْعَرُوسَهْ غِيرُ امَّهَا؟»

    Who will vouch for the bride, if not her own mother?

    The saying observes that warm testimony from someone bound by love to its subject is exactly what anyone would predict. A mother will naturally speak well of her daughter on her wedding day, so her glowing report reveals more about her devotion than about the bride herself.

  • «إِنْ أَتَاكْ الْمَطَرْ إِدِّي لُهْ ضَهْرَكْ، وَإِنْ أَتَاك الْمِرِيسِي ادَّارَى مِنُّهْ»

    Turn your back to the rain, but take shelter when the southern wind arrives.

    The saying contrasts rain, treated as a discomfort manageable by turning one's back, with the marīsī, a southern wind traditionally portrayed as requiring complete shelter.

  • «اِللِّي تِعْمِلُهْ الْمِعْزَةْ فِي القرَضْ يِخَلَّصُه القَرَضْ مِنْ جِلْدَهَا»

    The goat's damage to the tanning pods is repaid when those pods are used on her own skin.

    The saying warns that harm or damage one causes may return as a fitting repayment. Its image is of a goat eating tanning pods, which are later used to cure its hide; readers unfamiliar with tanning may need that context.

  • «يَا جَارِ الدَّهْرْ اِحْزَنْ لِي شَهْرْ»

    You have lived beside me for ages; can't you share my sorrow for just one month?

    The saying sets years of shared life against the modest duty of grieving with someone for a single month. The age and the month are a rhetorical contrast, not exact measures. It rebukes a person who enjoyed long closeness yet will not offer even brief sympathy when misfortune arrives.

  • «زَيِّ الْخَرُّوبْ قِنْطَارْ خَشَبْ عَلَى دَرْهِمْ سُكَّرْ»

    Like carob: a hundredweight of wood for a pinch of sugar.

    The saying takes aim at things that are large and heavy yet yield very little value. Like a carob pod, mostly tough woody husk with only a little sweet pulp, the target offers great bulk for a meager reward. The qintar and dirham, a heavy and a tiny traditional weight, mark a contrast of scale, not an exact ratio.

  • «اِلْقُلُوبْ مُوشْ زَيِّ بَعْضَهَا»

    Not all hearts are alike.

    The saying observes that inner lives vary from one person to the next. The word 'heart' stands for what someone privately feels and intends, and that hidden content cannot be assumed to match across individuals, even among people who seem close, friendly, or outwardly similar.

  • «لُولَا الْحَاجَهْ مَا مِشِتِ الرِّجْلِينْ»

    If need didn't drive us, our feet would never have carried us anywhere.

    The saying holds that necessity is what sets people in motion; in the Arabic, the two legs themselves are the subject that walks. Without pressing need, nobody would trouble to go out, travel, or labor. It explains what drives effort rather than praising idleness: effort is pushed along by what a person lacks and must obtain.

  • «اِلرَّفِيقِ الْمِخَالِفْ لَا عَاشْ وَلَا بَقَى»

    A companion who works against you: may he neither live nor last.

    The saying calls down ill on a companion who goes against the person he is supposed to stand beside. Its closing words are a curse rather than a description of his fate, wishing that such a fellow neither live nor endure and condemning his contrariness in the strongest terms.

  • «اِلشِّرْكْ فِي الْأَجَاوِيدْ وَلَا عَدَمْهُمْ»

    Better to share the good-hearted than to be left without them.

    The saying admits that sharing is unwelcome, yet ranks that discomfort below a far greater loss. Here the key word means sharing or joint claim, not its religious sense of idolatry. Good-hearted, generous people, valued for character rather than wealth, are rare enough that keeping a divided claim on them is preferable to having no such person at all.

  • «مِقَايْضِةِ الْجَحْشْ عَ الْجَحْشْ حِرْفَه»

    Even trading one young donkey for another takes skill.

    On its face, handing over one young donkey, a foal rather than a grown animal, and receiving another looks like the most even-handed deal imaginable. The proverb insists otherwise: an exchange that appears effortless still calls for know-how, and treating it casually invites trouble.

  • «حَرَّسْ مِنْ صَاحْبَكْ وَلَا تْخَوِّنُهْ»

    Stay watchful with your friend, but never treat him as disloyal.

    The saying separates private caution from open suspicion. A person may sensibly keep some protection in place even with a close companion, holding back what could be lost or misused, while never regarding or treating that companion as a traitor. The warning is against presuming disloyalty, not against committing betrayal.

  • «مِنْ خَلِّفْ مَا مَاتَ»

    Leave children behind, and you never really die.

    The saying holds that a person who leaves worthy children behind keeps living in a sense after death. Their conduct carries the parent's good name forward, so people keep remembering and praising the parent for as long as those descendants survive and behave well.

  • «اِلسَّمَكْ بِيْطَلَّعْ نَارْ قَالِ الْمَيَّهْ تِطْفِيهْ»

    Suppose the fish does breathe fire: the water around it will put the flame out.

    Even if a fish could somehow produce fire, it lives surrounded by water, so any flame would be quenched the moment it appeared. The deliberately impossible image pictures a danger cancelled by the very conditions around it; it says nothing about real fish.

  • «اِللِّي يِطْلَعْ لِلْبَلَحْ يَا يِنْزِلْ يَا يُقَعْ يِمُوتْ»

    Anyone who takes a grave risk may return safely or meet disaster.

    Its force lies in a blunt two-way split. The saying leaves no room for a partial or comfortable result: a hazardous choice is reduced to survival or ruin, and the tall palm works as a vivid picture of how much is at stake once someone commits.

  • «طِلِعْتْ تِجْرِي يَا دَنْدُونْ إِنَّكْ تِكِيدِ الرِّجَّالَهْ، خَطَفُوا طَاقِيتَك يَا دَنْدُونْ وِرِجِعْتْ رَاسَكْ عِرْيَانَهْ»

    Off you ran, Dandun, to get the better of the men; they grabbed your cap, Dandun, and home you came bareheaded.

    The saying ridicules a person who launches some venture meant to raise them above others, only to return defeated. Instead of gaining anything, they lose what little they had, pictured as a modest cloth cap snatched away and a head left bare, a humiliation more than a material loss.

  • «اِللِّي نْبَاتْ فِيهْ نِصْبَحْ فِيهْ»

    What occupies us at night is still what occupies us when morning comes.

    In this dialectal Arabic saying, the night-and-morning image is figurative: a person remains absorbed in one matter from evening until morning. It conveys attention that does not shift, rather than literal sleeping arrangements.

  • «طُولْةِ الْبَالْ مَا تْخَسَّرْشْ»

    Patience never costs you anything.

    The saying holds that staying calm and unhurried never puts a person at a disadvantage. Taking one's time, enduring delays, and holding back irritation are presented as choices that carry no real cost, even when they feel slow or frustrating. Read as 'does not lose' or 'does not cause loss,' the verb yields the same sense.

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