1. Ahmad, what are you in the realm of literature?
You are the leader, the poet of the Arabs.

2. It was not prophecies in religion as they claimed,
But in eloquence you were foremost, and in literature.

3. Poetry would be inspired in you about the desolate valley,
And poetry would be inspired in you about the hill.

4. You were not inspired with the rhymes of poetry
Until it came from the sublime with wonder.

5. You were the first of the leaders of literature,
And the first among the impetuous heroes.

6. You were poetry flowing like water,
And you were in war like fire in kindling.

7. How much wisdom you had that circulated among people as an example,
Which you uttered with the tongue of an elegant poet.

8. How many rising states were overturned,
Yet your throne among them remained unoverturned.

9. If we were to mention the abodes of the poets,
You would be foremost, while the rest follow behind.

10. The preachers of poetry cried out criticizing it,
But the preacher did not care nor answer them.

11. Indeed, the one who died defending guiding poetry
Remains immortal in people's hearts and books.

12. With injustice, they killed the father of poetry in you,
So poetry became an orphan with no father.

13. If only yearning would benefit me for your life
When it leads to destruction.

14. It is an affliction that will not forget its anguish
Over the succession of storms and eras.

15. With poetry and literature, days are good,
Without them, days are not pleasant.

16. Fate is an unjust neighbor that destroys literature,
Though that neighbor has no justification.

17. Killing is a calamity, and this killing is most woeful,
As if evil has descended upon you.

18. You are the murdered one with no grave to gather him,
After the victorious hyenas tore him apart.

19. Maybe predecessors knew his death
From the blood spilled on the ground.

20. A grave is just a grave, so burying in it is useless,
Even if the dearest people built it of gold.

21. He passed away seeking a life of tranquility,
Unaware that the specter of death was seeking him.

22. I do not ask about him when he met his fate -
Was he anxious or untroubled?

23. The stricken feels no joy in calamity,
The slain bird does not dance in rapture.

24. This is no secure abode to be reassured,
With adversities streaming endlessly from its peaks.

25. This poem of mine is a bouquet that diffused its aroma,
I collected it from my incense and perfume.

26. I composed it from emotions to gift it
To my refined father excelling in literature.

27. What we have composed this ode about
Is but an echo of what was said in bygone eras.