1. Youth has passed and come near, so we have revelled,
And old age has turned away and become estranged, so we are steadfast.

2. Oh how excellent was the night of youth that has gone,
And no good this morn of old age that has come.

3. When you see white hairs in a man's temples,
Though he lives, consider him a dead man wrapped for burial.

4. And if whiteness appears in the parting of a youth,
It is best to strike that place with a staff.

5. My patience fought against estrangement and enmity,
So no weakness impeded it nor did any wealth make it deviate.

6. But when youth turned its reins from it
And from the army of old age it saw an ambush,

7. It turned away, though how often did I call it, after it saw
The vanguard of my white hairs, to return, but it did not turn back.

8. It let flow the pact of the mouth’s pact, nay the pact of its folk,
Alive like my tears that make the torrent gush forth.

9. How many a morn and eve have I had with it
That life falls short of attaining the like.

10. Sometimes between the vineyards we have wandered at dawn,
Where the full moon has looked upon its like with us.

11. And sometimes on the Gulf’s water that was stirred up
By the blow of the wind like wrinkled parchment.

12. The water bubbles were like a coat of motley,
Colored by the hue of dawn and many-hued.

13. Bubbles that told of the surface and depth of bubbles,
When the wind wove them into a coat of mail and armor.

14. They were like the flanks of wild cows that swayed
And there gradually showed a flexing.

15. When the current turned its circles it imitated
The finger joints of a draftsman delineating with care.

16. And above the ground was a verdure from the meadow, greener,
Confronting the green of the rain’s scattered drops.

17. You see this embroidered with the light’s embroidery below,
And that embellished above with the lightning’s embroidery.

18. And in the midst of the leaves is the warbling of leaves,
Sweeter and more delicious in hearts than singing.

19. They burst into song—they were like a lovesick youth
Concealing his passion until it faded and he declared it.

20. When the gentle breeze addresses them you’d think a maiden
Singing, making an incomprehensible-tongued old man sing too.

21. A place whose flowers of gardens and orchards—
You’d think its clothes were made of them, embroidered.

22. Basil and flowers and roses and narcissi
And myrtle and oleander and jasmine and lilies,

23. You’d think its pebbles were colored jacinth,
And if its stones were made hard they’d be a mine.

24. And the drops of dew on them are half pearls,
And if they hardened they’d be prized and bought.

25. Gardens that told of brocade with their beauties,
And if they were brocade they’d be expensive.

26. By my life, I have left places there
That fate refused I ever have a place instead of.

27. I am the son of Muḍāḍ and those are Jurhum’s homelands,
So there’s no difference in the length of our separation between us.

28. Perhaps a death before death will pass
And the mouth’s lip will drink when it murmurs.

29. I asked You, my Lord, for a return, so be generous with it,
And reward with good those whose wishes we have fulfilled.