1. Is there after your face any hope of success,
Or after your person in life any righteousness,

2. O you whose loss makes hearts yearn,
Patience prevents crying yet crying is allowed,

3. No wonder tears flow copiously,
And your voice is sweet in the palms that cup them.

4. I yearn for you in a painful longing
That tires the saviors, and their help is nil,

5. I yearn for you in a lofty determination
That humbles the stars though they’re high-aspiring,

6. I yearn for you, though you’ve cast off your youth,
For time was comforted by its beauty,

7. I yearn for you, though you’ve left elegies,
We hoped they would be praises,

8. The passing year was but a rising
Of wounds in our hearts for you,

9. Alas for your loss, it is a loss that
Has negated joy with its day of bereavement,

10. That day, O son of triumph, was not one
In which the door of patience has a key.

11. Eloquence, clarity, softness and fluency
Weep for you,

12. Leaves of knowledge and blades of armies
Weep for you.

13. When your leadership is recalled amongst them
Their tears instead of weapons are weapons.

14. The masters of glorious purposes
Who found their register in your dew, weep for you,

15. Sincere companions in affection
Whose lineage to you is evident, weep for you,

16. This commoner with his tears
And the intense grief of his heart, weeps for you,

17. Desolate abodes weep for you
Though the crescent of their new moon has set,

18. The doves that chirped happily in them
Today sing mournful dirges,

19. Does the bouquet know that I am like it
If after the departed I had wings!

20. Alas for a jewel of sublime virtues
After seeing whom hearts are no longer sound,

21. Days when his merit was perfected
And his enemies resorted to him and departed

22. And he was diverted from blaming the beautiful doe-eyed ones in intimacy -
An opinion that sees forgiveness as profitable

23. And he lived a happy Umayyad life
Until the sword of doom, the brutal, harvested him,

24. Those nights that strike the people
With their stars are like fire-sticks,

25. Their spear of destinies assaults lifespans,
And you will assault the spears with spears!

26. How unjust is the world even if it lets us be,
No strong refuge or escape remains,

27. Greater in it than hidden wisdom
That cannot be elucidated,

28. As for bodies, their evanescence is to dust
And their spirits to their predestined Creator,

29. Saladin marched, disturbing a sorrow
In which to reconcile the conditions of the soil,

30. Its clouds weep upon the cheek of soil,
To remain by his name moist and rainy,

31. As if its springtime and breeze
Were boons at your hands and your fragrant remembrance.