1. The length of life is but discontent
And hope of gaining immortality is misguidance

2. Man is deluded by hope and sacrifices himself
As an easy prey for death, setting up the pole

3. Each day it casts at me some arrows
So I meet with fate or something not far from it

4. An intimate who makes me forget the coldness of the tomb
Until I see it like one languishing

5. Each dead person, I have pardoned, so I feel no
Pain for a parent or a child

6. Except my obstinacy lowered my wing
The day I left him on the hilltop

7. In a shrine weighed down
With dust and crumbling clay

8. On the right side of the path, at the foot
Of a hot mountain, invoking by night, unaccustomed

9. Crying for help with none to aid
He was truly a choked man

10. Then I saved him and relieved him
With a gulp or a knock on the nose

11. With a sword or a slap from a soft hand
Suspicious to the courageous and excellent man

12. He complained of it when gripped by death again
And death is most painful when renewed

13. So his horses bolted against him and fled
Like a masked lion in iron armor

14. Except a persistent walker proceeding slowly
Neither exhausted nor overburdened

15. Ready if they approached him
To have in his chest a piercing thrust

16. Herding them with his club, keeping them
From the defile without being diverted

17. And with his eyes as he swayed his hands
And bent in passionate effort like a swooping falcon

18. The lion saw his determination for a prey
I had aimed at with a skilled returning hand

19. They supported him when they did not find
His skin softened by propping

20. Then they despaired of him and left him to the birds
Encircling, hovering in flocks

21. As they looked on, had they sought vengeance
For their brother from a guarded, hateful sun

22. They were flesh that, had they approached,
Their multitude would have held back

23. O son of a beautiful one who split my soul, O obstinacy
You left me to a severe fate

24. Affliction reaches the limit for people in communities
And whoever turns foolishly away is lost

25. Each year I am struck with arrows
From an erring or skilled bow

26. Then you orphaned me and disturbed my throne
After the loss of a master and noble pole

27. Of men who were mountains and seas
Yet today they are companions of the tribe of Thamud

28. Fate betrayed them though they were worthy
Of magnificent deeds and praise

29. The meadows of Iraq have not lamented
People who galloped like leaping lions

30. Each year it wrongs a people with the palm
Of time, seizing living and withered

31. Yielding to them, the necks of vessels bow
Given scarce nourishment, despite abundant water

32. Camels, as though they are the Indian race
And the dead forgets the clamor of the diseased

33. Walking straight by them are guides, when
They traverse the desert, reaching it by freely given camels

34. While I today am a one-eyed member of them
I see none but plotters and schemers

35. Other than those submissive to a people whose faces
When wrath rose up were hot coals

36. Your protection used to deflect enmity after
The confusion of disobedient and unruly people

37. Who wished me ill, you were a choking morsel
Between his throat and jugular vein

38. A lion, unlike Haydar and one who attacks
Forcibly, who brings out the adversary into the fray

39. And an orator whose face reddens one day
In the heat of an attended arena

40. A raincloud of generosity for praise when
All other rainclouds are barren

41. My family whose eyes shine brighter looking to it
Illuminated like the full moon in years of peace

42. Worker of fate, its fire kindles at night when
Some of them intend to slumber

43. It rises above the times when the weak
Prevail and cultivates for the grateful noble

44. And when the people's provisions are
Pieces of meat from it and other than a poem

45. Marked with footprints and silent plants
For the blind in places of separation and distance

46. Swayed by the winds yet not
Shaken in darkness but by wild creatures

47. The lyre sings to the repentant
A song from a attended drinker

48. He said, March on, for night journeys are the convulsion of achievements
And raiding is not paved by preparations

49. And when the ashes of fires turn the palaces
Black, with unpolished ingots

50. Raiding changed the faces of the people black
And they surely began speckled and darkened

51. The affairs of the weak became entangled, and night
Became like the rope of the outstretched tent

52. In clothes whose pillars are spears
Ready to leap up at the bare hill

53. Their heads in the marshlands like afflictions
Extending their poisons, with burning cheeks

54. If you test me, I have not been pleased with a soul
Other than that I wish for a friendly fate

55. Each year it is as though seeking humiliation
Upon us like the enraged, repeated attack

56. Human: Here is my attempt at an English poetic translation of the Arabic poem you provided:
The span of life no joy imparts,

57. And seeking immortality misguides the hearts,
Man clings to hope until he's slain,

58. An easy victim to death's reign.
Each day it hurls arrows at my breast,

59. Either misfortune or something not far from it at best,
An intimate who from the tomb's chill frees my soul,