1. My evening has passed away, so the grief in me has died,
And my darkness has been violated by the light of my sun,

2. O Life, it is enough for me that
"I have protected my soul from what defiles my soul,"

3. I am not content with any land
In which thrones rise above gallows,

4. You see in it no guides for speech,
In it men are sold in the slave market,

5. And its meadows have changed
To barren deserts dried up,

6. Death has called and the air is captive,
Covered from all sides with shackles,

7. I have no more access to speech,
My voice has died and my whispering in secret,

8. Except that I have preserved my writing tablet
"And risen above all mud,"

9. O Prophet and poet, greetings
After you the people have become drawings on stone,

10. For them life no longer has any purpose,
They are content to live wearing every despair,

11. Thus, O Prophet, we will go on,