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O harbinger of glad tidings to the grieving lord for our death

يا بشر يا رب محزون بمصرعنا

1. O harbinger of glad tidings to the grieving lord for our death
And gloating, cowardly one untouched by grief

١. يا بِشرُ يا رُبَّ مَحزونٍ بِمَصرَعِنا
وَشامِتٍ جَذِلٍ ما مَسَّهُ الحَزَنُ

2. Gloating ill suits a man when his friend dies
For he sees he too is hostage to death

٢. وَما شَماتُ امرِئٍ إِن ماتَ صاحِبُهُ
وَقَد يَرى أَنَّهُ بِالمَوتِ مُرتَهَنُ

3. O harbinger rest my soul, for sleep has eluded it
A bed is stony and a land not home is the homeland

٣. يا بِشرُ هُبِّي فَإِنَّ النَومَ أَرَّقَهُ
نأيٌ مُشِتٌّ وَأَرضٌ غَيرُها الوَطَنُ