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Arabic proverbs

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Proverbs

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

  • «عَنْدِ الْإِبْرَهْ تُتُوهِ السُّلُوكْ»

    The moment you find the needle, the thread disappears.

    The saying describes the frustration of incomplete readiness. Some of what a task requires falls into place, yet another essential part slips out of reach at that very moment. The whole effort remains stuck because its pieces never come together at once.

  • «كُلُّهْ سَلَفْ وِدِينْ حَتَّى الْمَشْيِ عَلَى الرِّجْلِينْ»

    Everything you do is lent out and paid back, down to the very steps you take.

    The saying treats every human action as a kind of credit extended to the world, sure to be settled later. Whatever a person gives out, whether generosity or injury, eventually returns to them in matching form, so no deed is truly free of consequence.

  • «اِلْكِبَرْ عِبَرْ»

    Old age brings lessons.

    The saying treats advanced age, together with whatever comes along with it, as a source of instruction. What happens in the later years of life is framed as a set of lessons to be heeded and learned from.

  • «لَا صَنْعَهْ وَلَا اسْتَادِيَّهْ»

    He has neither a trade to work at nor the know-how to direct anyone else.

    The saying describes a person who lacks any usable skill. Such a person has no trade they can practise well enough to produce work themselves, and no seasoned expertise that would let them guide or instruct others who do the work.

  • «كُتْرِ النَّخْسْ يِعَلِّمِ الْحِمِيرِ الرَّفْسْ»

    Keep jabbing a donkey and you teach it to kick.

    The saying warns that relentless, harsh pressure to make someone act tends to backfire. Instead of producing obedience or effort, constant goading spoils the temper of the one being driven and breeds resistance, so the pusher ends up with the reverse of the result they wanted.

  • «يِطَلَّعْ مِنِ الزِّبِيبَهْ خَمَّارَهْ»

    He turns a single raisin into a whole tavern.

    At its core, the image ridicules wild overstatement. Setting a lone raisin beside an entire drinking house, not merely some wine, it pictures someone whose imagination swells a speck of substance into a vast enterprise, so that a matter of no weight is treated as momentous.

  • «كُل وَاحِدْ لُهْ شِيطَانْ»

    Each person has a devil of their own.

    The saying treats temptation as a universal condition rather than a mark of special weakness. Anyone, however upright, has some voice close at hand urging a wrong choice and making it look sensible, so feeling that pull is ordinary and not shameful in itself.

  • «اِللِّي فِيهَا يْكَفِّيهَا»

    She has enough with what she already has.

    The saying commends being content with modest means. It suggests that a person whose needs are covered should not feel compelled to seek more merely for the sake of having more. Its feminine wording may refer to a woman or to a grammatically feminine noun, depending on context.

  • «اِلسَّجَرَهْ اللِّي مَا تْضِل عَلَى اهْلَهَا وَلَّا حَل قَطْعَهَا»

    A tree that gives no shade to its own family has earned the axe.

    A person is valued by his own people for the protection and benefit he gives them, much as a tree is valued for its shade. Someone who withholds care and support from his family has failed in the very role that justified their attachment to him.

  • «اِلْعَبْ بِالْمَجَرْ لَمَّا يْجِيكْ الْبُنْدُقِي»

    Be content with the lesser coin until the better one arrives.

    The saying counsels a person not to let narrow means or a modest portion poison the present. It urges calm acceptance of what is presently allotted, rather than distressing oneself while circumstances remain limited.

  • «يَا اشُخ في زِيرْكُمْ يَا ارُوحْ مَا اجِي لْكُمْ»

    Either I get to foul your drinking water, or I won't come to your place at all.

    The speaker offers only two options: foul the household's shared drinking-water jar or refuse to visit at all. Neither choice gains him anything, yet he insists on one of them. The saying captures a willful, self-defeating stubbornness that cares more about getting its way than about any real benefit.

  • «قُولِةْ لَوْ كَانْ تُوَدِّي الْمُرُسْتَانْ»

    Keep saying 'if only' and you'll end up in the asylum.

    The proverb warns that clinging to counterfactual 'law kān' thinking, meaning 'if only it had been' rather than a plain 'if', is pointless and harmful. Repeating 'if only things had gone differently' changes nothing that has already happened. It only wears down the person who cannot let go of it.

  • «اِلْمَتْعُوسْ مَتْعُوسْ وِلَوْ عَلَّقُوا عَلَى رَاسُهْ فَانُوسْ»

    An unlucky person stays unlucky, even with a lantern hung over his head.

    The saying expresses a fatalistic view that some people are simply marked by bad fortune. No outside aid, illumination, or advantage placed upon them will change the outcome, because their ill luck clings to them wherever they go.

  • «زَي ضَرَّابِينِ الْكُبَّهْ»

    Like the unseen ones who jab people with plague.

    The saying compares someone to the invisible beings, jinn in folk belief, who prick people and raise the deadly swelling of plague. Here al-kubba is the plague bubo, not the meat dish kibbeh. Being likened to these beings means being seen as a source of ruin, someone whose arrival signals harm rather than good.

  • «كُل هَم فِي الدُّنْيَا لُهْ قَلْبْ بِالْعِنْيَهْ»

    For every worry under the sun, there is a heart meant to carry it.

    The proverb imagines each worry in the world as having its own heart, deliberately set aside to hold it. The image is figurative, not a claim that particular people are destined for particular troubles. Its point is simple: no heart is ever entirely free of care, because trouble is part of everyone's lot.

  • «إِيشْ جَابْ طُوخْ لِمْلِيجْ»

    What does Tokh have to do with Milij?

    This saying calls out speech that joins matters with no relevant connection. It marks a response or comparison as having moved away from the subject that should be under discussion.

  • «اِللِّي يْخَافْ مِنِ العِرْسَهْ مَا يْرَبِّيشْ كَتَاكِيتْ»

    If you fear weasels, do not keep young chickens.

    The proverb rebukes reluctance to undertake a task when the person insists on being able to shield it entirely from a danger connected with that task. Fear of the possible loss becomes the reason for refusing the undertaking itself.

  • «اِلْعُمْر تَدْبَرَهْ»

    Your life needs to be handled with care.

    A person's life is something to be managed and planned with care, not gambled away. The saying urges prudence and self-preservation, warning against throwing oneself into peril without forethought, since one's years are too valuable to spend recklessly.

  • «عُمْرِ الْعَدُو مَا يِبْقَى حَبِيبْ وِعُمْرْ شَجَرِةِ التِّينْ مَا تِطْرَح زِبِيبْ»

    An enemy will never turn into a friend, any more than a fig tree will ever bear raisins.

    The saying holds that real hostility cannot turn into genuine affection. Someone who has been an enemy stays an enemy at heart, whatever warmth they may show, so expecting true friendship from them is as hopeless as waiting for an impossible harvest.

  • «هَوِّبْ بِعَصَايْةِ الْعِز، وَلَا تِضْرَبْ بِهَا»

    Brandish the rod of authority, but never let it fall.

    Power is most effective while it stays in reserve. The stick stands for authority; the advice is restraint in punishing, not physical force. Letting people see that you can punish keeps them cautious and compliant. Actually punishing uses up your heaviest sanction in a single move, and you gain nothing beyond that one blow.

  • «اِلْكَدَّابْ خَرَبْ بِيتِ الطَّمَّاعْ»

    It is the liar who brings ruin on the greedy man's house.

    A deceiver finds his easiest target in someone hungry for gain. He dresses up a scheme with promises of profit, and the greedy person, eager to believe, trusts him. That person then pours money into ventures that never pay back, until savings are drained and the household and its fortune are ruined.

  • «اِلدِّبَّانْ وَقْعِتُه فِي الْعَسَلْ كِتِيرْ»

    Flies keep landing in the honey.

    Said of someone who flings themselves eagerly and repeatedly at something they want. Just as flies are drawn back to honey time after time, the person described cannot keep away from whatever attracts them, and the stress falls on how often the eager rush recurs, not on a single moment of wanting.

  • «مِنْ جُوَّا أَحْسَنْ يَا حَكِيمْ»

    Doctor, it would do more good inside me.

    A remedy or nourishment does far more good when it is actually taken into the body, as by eating, than when it merely rests on the surface. The guiding image is bread for a hungry person: eating it helps, laying it against the body does not.

  • «تِجِي عَلَى أَهْوَنْ سَبَبْ»

    What seems difficult may be made easy by the simplest means.

    At its core, the proverb notes a mismatch of scale: the thing that finally unlocks a stubborn situation can be strikingly modest, out of all proportion to the struggle before it. The unnamed subject is the matter at hand, which, after many attempts have failed, comes right through the most trivial of means.

  • «لَا اجَّوِّزْتْ وَلَا خِلِي بَالِي وَلَا انَا فِضِلْتْ عَلَى حَالِي»

    Marriage brought me no peace of mind, and I'm no longer where I started either.

    The speaker describes coming out behind on both counts. The opening negation is best read as denying the hoped-for result, not the marriage itself: the marriage brought no freedom from worry. Meanwhile the speaker has also left behind their former condition, so neither the expected gain nor the old state remains.

  • «فِي فَرَحْكُمْ أَبُصِّ وَارْجَعْ وِفِي غَمُّكُمْ لِيَّ التَّلَاتْ وِالْأَرْبَعْ»

    At your celebrations I only peek in and leave; in your hard times, most of the load lands on me.

    The speaker protests an unequal relationship. When the others are celebrating, the speaker counts for little and stays only long enough to glance in before leaving. When misfortune comes, though, the same people turn to the speaker, who ends up shouldering the greater part of their burden.

  • «مَسِّكُوا الْقُط مُفْتَاحِ الْبُرْجْ»

    They gave the cat the key to the dovecote.

    The image is of people who hand the key of a pigeon house to a cat. The cat has always eyed the birds, and once it can get in freely it will leave none of them alive. The folly lies in the handover itself, since the outcome was easy to foresee.

  • «ذَنْبُهْ عَلَى جَنْبُهْ»

    His wrongdoing rests on his own shoulders.

    The saying holds that whoever does wrong must carry the consequences alone. The fault is pictured as resting against the wrongdoer's own body, close enough that he cannot shrug it off onto anyone else, and whatever harm follows will land on him.

  • «عُمْرِ الدَّم مَا يِبْقَى مَيَّهْ»

    Blood will never turn into water.

    The proverb holds that a family bond cannot dissolve into nothing. However bitter a dispute between relatives becomes, the shared blood that ties them stays what it is. The opening عُمْر ... مَا simply means 'never' here, not anyone's age: blood never turns into water.

  • «كُل مَاعُونْ يِنْضَحْ بِمَا فِيهْ»

    A pot can only seep out what it holds.

    The saying holds that what comes out of a person shows what is inside them. The image is of an ordinary household container, such as a pot, dish, or basin, seeping its contents. Speech, conduct, and attitude are treated as natural overflow from character, so a person's true disposition eventually surfaces in how they act and talk.

  • «ضَعِيفْ وِيَاكُلْ مِيةْ رِغِيفْ»

    So frail, and yet he can put away a hundred loaves of bread!

    The saying ridicules a person who complains of weakness or sickness while behaving like someone in robust health. The giveaway is appetite: anyone able to devour a hundred loaves, a deliberate exaggeration rather than a literal count, can hardly be as feeble as they claim, so the frailty is exposed as pretense.

  • «اِللِّي يُرْبُطْ فِي رَقَبْتُهْ حَبْلْ أَلْفْ مِنْ يِسْحَبُهْ»

    Anyone who puts a rope around their own neck will find many others to lead them by it.

    The proverb rebukes someone who creates the conditions for their own degradation, giving others an opening to direct or humiliate them. Its figurative rope image concerns exposure to control or loss of dignity, not a literal act of self-harm.

  • «لُهْ فِي كُلِّ خَرَابَهْ عَفْرِيتْ»

    Every place he turns, some spirit of trouble lies in wait for him.

    The saying describes a person who cannot escape opposition. Wherever he turns, some adversary seems already in place, ready to frustrate his plans. The image draws on the folk belief that abandoned ruins harbour an afreet, a powerful and often malicious spirit; the ruin is figurative, not a literal place.

  • «عَدُو زَمَانْ مَالُوشْ أَمَانْ»

    A foe from the old days is never one to rely on.

    The saying holds that hostility rooted in the past does not simply fade with time. Someone who was your adversary long ago may still carry the old grudge, even if they now seem friendly or harmless. Their apparent goodwill should be treated with suspicion.

  • «خَطَبُوهَا اتْعَزِّزِتْ فَاتُوهَا اتْنَدِّمِتْ»

    She played hard to get when they proposed, but regretted it after they withdrew.

    It warns that refusing something one actually wants merely to appear proud or difficult can cause a missed opportunity. Once others withdraw their offer, regret may come too late to change the result.

  • «اِلنُّخَالَهْ قَامِتْ وِالْعَلَامَهْ نَامِتْ»

    The bran is on its feet while the finest flour lies sleeping.

    The image comes from sifting flour. Bran, the husk and chaff sifted away and discarded as cheap, is pictured standing tall, while al-'alama, here meaning not 'sign' but the finest white flour, lies down as if asleep. The rhyming Arabic verbs 'rose' and 'slept' set the two halves against each other.

  • «خُدْ مِنِ الْحَافِي نَعْلُهْ»

    Go on, take the sandal off a barefoot man.

    The saying highlights the absurdity of trying to extract something from a person who has nothing. A barefoot man cannot surrender a sandal he never had, so the instruction is ironic: it names an impossible demand, not a real act of taking.

  • «اِلْعَوِيلْ مَا يِفْتَحْ بَابُهْ»

    A mean-spirited man keeps his door shut to guests.

    The proverb uses an open or shut door as a measure of character. Here عويل is a colloquial term for a base, worthless person, not the Standard Arabic sense of loud wailing. Such a person keeps his home closed to guests, while opening the door freely belongs to someone generous and noble.

  • «اِلطَّمَعْ يِقِل مَا جَمَعْ»

    Grasping for more whittles away what you already have.

    The proverb warns that an appetite for ever more tends to erode what a person has already secured. Excessive wanting leads people into reckless choices, and those choices end up costing them part or all of their existing gains.

  • «لَوْ كَانْ فِيهْ خِيرْ مَا رَمَاهِ الطِّيرْ»

    If it were worth anything, the bird wouldn't have dropped it.

    The saying argues from behavior back to value: a scavenging bird, such as a crow, lets go of something only after nothing useful remains in it. Anything such a bird drops is therefore presumed empty, picked over, and worthless to whoever finds it.

  • «اِلْعَدِيمْ مِنِ احْتَاجْ إِلَى لَئِيمْ»

    True poverty is having to depend on someone base.

    The saying redefines poverty. Lacking money or possessions is not treated as the true mark of being destitute. A person reaches real want only when circumstances leave no option except seeking help from someone base: stingy, petty, and of low character all at once, and so deserving moral contempt rather than mere dislike.

  • «اِمْشِي عَلَى عَدُوَّكْ جَعَانْ وَلَا تِمْشِي عَلِيهْ عِرْيَانْ»

    Better to face an enemy while hungry than to let him see your condition.

    The proverb advises keeping one’s condition hidden from an enemy. It contrasts enduring hunger with appearing naked before a hostile person, because the latter would reveal something the enemy could see.

  • «كُل نُومَه وْتَمْطِيطَهْ أَحْسَنْ مِنْ فَرَحْ طِيطَهْ»

    Better a nap and a good stretch than a wedding with all its piping.

    The saying ranks simple rest above an activity that is pleasant but brings no real benefit. A nap and a lazy stretch are judged worth more than the festive noise of a wedding's shrill reed pipes, because the celebration, however cheerful, leaves nothing lasting behind.

  • «قَالْ: يَابَا إِيهْ أَحْلَى مِ الْعَسَلْ؟ قَالِ: الْخَل إِنْ كَانْ بَلَاشْ»

    "Dad, what could be sweeter than honey?" "Vinegar, son, as long as nobody makes you pay for it."

    The proverb uses a child's question and a parent's dry reply to show that price can outweigh quality. Asked what beats honey, the father names sour vinegar, but only if it costs nothing. The point is not that vinegar tastes good; the humor lies in setting something sour against honey and letting the lack of cost win.

  • «كُل رَاسْ مِطَاطِيَّهْ تَحْتَهَا أَلْفْ بَلِيَّهْ»

    Under every humbly lowered head lurk a thousand troubles.

    The saying warns against being taken in by a display of meekness. Someone who keeps their head lowered and seems modest and good-natured may be hiding countless forms of trickery, malice, or harm they could inflict, so outward humility is no proof of a harmless character; the 'thousand' is hyperbole, not a count.

  • «اِللِّي مَا هُو لَكْ كَمَانْ شُوَيَّهْ يْقَلَّعُوا لَكْ»

    What does not belong to you will soon be taken away.

    The proverb cautions that the use of a borrowed item is temporary. What belongs to another remains subject to its owner's reclaiming it, even when the borrower has had it only a short time.

  • «اِلْقُفَّه اللِّي لَهَا وِدْنِينْ يِشِيلُوهَا اتْنِينْ»

    A basket with two handles is easily carried by two.

    Something that is properly made comes with its own means of being handled. The basket's two 'ears' are its handles, not body parts; a basket fitted with them invites two people to lift it together, so the load becomes manageable because of how it was built.

  • «صَاحِبِ الْمَالْ تَعْبَانْ»

    Whoever owns things is never free of worry.

    Owning things is presented as a source of constant strain, meaning ongoing worry and effort rather than bodily fatigue. Whatever a person holds, whether money, land, animals, or goods, demands work to make it productive, effort to keep it, and anxiety about losing it, so possession brings worry along with comfort.

  • «اِلْغَنِي شَكِّتُهْ شُوكَهْ بَقَتِ الْبَلَدْ فِي دُوكَهْ، وِالْفَقِيرْ قَرَصُهْ تِعْبَانْ، قَالُوا: اسْكُتْ بَلَاشْ كَلَامْ»

    When a thorn pricks the rich man, the whole town is in an uproar; when a snake bites the poor man, they tell him: hush, not a word.

    The saying contrasts two kinds of harm. A trivial scratch on a rich person becomes a public event, with everyone fussing and making noise around him. A genuinely dangerous injury to a poor person draws no sympathy, and he is even told to keep his complaint to himself.

  • «زَيِّ بَرَاغِيتِ الْقَنْطَرَهْ عُرْيْ وِزَنْطَرَهْ»

    Like fleas out under the bridge: nothing to cover them, yet full of swagger.

    Aimed at someone with no means who still puts on grand airs, the saying pictures a bare little creature leaping about as if it owned the place. The less such a person truly has, the noisier the show of importance.

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