1. In your grave, let the trailing edges of the clouds be drawn,
With every flexing branch, closer to you, O you who is mourned,

2. Thunder laughs in its folds,
And the orbiting planets weep their eyelids.

3. O Ayyubid Sa'd al-Din, the prayer of one who saw,
For your tomb the dawn of the king is like the disappearing,

4. Indeed, the calamity has been great with you and the turns of fate,
Have come to us from every side.

5. It is the arrow that pierced my heart to its core,
It is the ultimate aim, so whoever wants, let him die,

6. For every lesser calamity in ranks,
You have become veiled though you were before it,

7. The delegation would meet you without inhibition.
And I return fruitless from your doors,

8. And never have I returned unsuccessful from you.
I blame a time that does not pity the blamer,

9. And censure a fate that does not incline to the censor.
Oh my sorrow until you reached the lowest state,

10. Then pride's banner was folded after glory.
And he was none other than the unsheathed sword of your sword,

11. With the water of sharp blades and the soul’s fire of wars.
He betrayed the companion al-Mu`min treacherously,

12. So who can trust a companion after that?
I have tasted the bitterness of bereavement in you, so our troubles have become easier,

13. O son of mighty kings.
We came to you together, happy and singing praise,

14. And we returned individuals, weeping and eulogizing.
Peace be upon you, O best destroyed,

15. And before that, O best walker and rider.
The rain cloud's eyelid still waters you crying,

16. Pouring on you with youthful downpours.
It promised at your plains a flood with heavy rainfall,

17. And it never promised you a day of drought.
If I had tears as plentiful as his generosity,

18. I would have fulfilled the duty of those from his hands.
Whenever my eyes look upon the place of his encampment,

19. I remove the mask of tears amongst the tent pegs.
And I remember in him a generosity like Hatem’s,

20. Signing gifts and emancipations with fingers.
And the splendor of a face the full moon never rose,

21. And if it rose to meet it, it inclined like one vanishing.
I vow his favors never receded from his council,

22. Nor did his superiority recede from any miserable suppliant.
Neither has generosity disappeared nor knowledge been lost,

23. With him, nor the water of hopes drained.
If distance took him bodily,

24. His memory has not departed from any people.
A young man whose worry in every situation is cultured,

25. And the worry of creation is in its most tumultuous state.
If settlement settles, generosity settles in every house,

26. And if he traveled, victory traveled amongst processions.
He meets enemies triumphant, blessed of good fortune, with a name

27. As if wild game calls for meeting loved ones.
People wore the garments of wealth while the exalted wore

28. So what a profitable trade between a cup and its filler!
Eras will remember him in every scene

29. With the sweetness of praise spoken by messengers.
And the thick of script will weep over him in every position,

30. And the antelope and horses amongst regiments.
Among the people were moons of nightfall, lions of valor,

31. Mountains of prohibition and forbearance, comets of glory.
If you ask their souls from enemies,

32. They would give them readily in outpourings of gifts.
There is none like him in any glory and felicity,

33. Nor any like his time in calamities.
This world is no sister to one like it,

34. But it is counted amongst wonders.
Never has the ear of time heard of its like,

35. Nor has the eye of tribulation seen before it.
Were it not for him I would not have panicked though I felt safe,

36. Nor been for a day. apprehensive of fate.
An enemy whose sharpness and cunning did not diminish,

37. Stricken, so by the son of cunning and clever contrivance.
And he was only the full moon that met its eclipse,

38. Why not someone among the planets?
He who was pure of garb has passed from every suspicion,

39. And was shrouded in a path of truth without crookedness.
Prepare O Salah al-Din an understanding look,

40. Has any but the dispossessed of life and power died?
We accept the doom willingly, and has any youth,

41. Disobeyed it without it hastily punishing in wrath?
Neither high fortress nor sturdy moat,

42. Nor all forbidden from fate and afflictions.
Death is no person to be avoided with a familiar vanguard,

43. Known to valiant heroes, disheveled of garments.
But it ambushes our souls stealthily,

44. And comes to us in the most secret paths.
It aims from the bow of destiny its arrows,

45. So not the archer’s arrows or eyebrows’ aim.
We lost him so the eyes of his chastity have whitened,

46. From sorrow and the faces of seekers have blackened.
As long as you have not lost a horseman of the people,

47. Or the hand of death seized a loved one.