1. My eye has been struck with blindness, oh Death, with cataracts,
And you have folded the wing of glory, so take rest.

2. You have lopped off the lofty branches, and for no reason
Cast my eyelid, after death, into oblivion.

3. You have demolished what was built up as pillars of pottery, and left
No ruins for it, no remnants, unto eternity.

4. You bargained, in the drawing of lives that had drawn nigh,
Since you would deliver them only hand in hand.

5. How you increased in your loss the burning agony of my heart—
It blazed, and oh, would that you had not diminished and not increased!

6. And how many springs you left where none shall dwell
Save the wolves, and owls, and chirping crickets.

7. And how many branches you severed through jealousy, till they withered
As if you were a heart naturally prone to envy.

8. And how you took as fellow traveler generosity, while you
Left the dew’s bough without even a single prop.

9. And how you left a father weeping for a son
Whose taste of separation’s bitterness you made him taste.

10. And how many smoothed graves over which you scattered
Limbs of beauty, like precious pearls.

11. And you made them pillows without necks
Just as you clothed them in gowns without bodies.

12. And how you left behind trustees untrustworthy
Just as you left pillars without firm support.

13. And how you climbed by steps too high to be attained,
And crept even into the lions' den.

14. O you who don the garb of youth still green and unripe,
Has the sober one ever loved the wine from his cup?

15. Do not be fooled by a youth that you demolish—
Death leaves no one alive eternally.

16. And O my brother white of hair, why do you not forbid yourself
From the corruption that is far too manifest to be numbered?

17. Grant the youth his excuse along with his companion—
What excuse is there for the gray-haired in solitary disobedience?

18. Do not ever suppose gladness will be eternal, everlasting,
If today it delighted you, tomorrow it will beset you with gloom.

19. For life is an arena of contention, and death the finishing line,
And every companion shall meet his appointed term.

20. O night of lightning flickering, your walnuts have clung
Together, as the heart clings to the liver.

21. You have perpetuated the same disquiet that fled from you,
And there was no stillness in what you harbored of silence.

22. How much have I had patience until the patient one wearied,
And now I strive until the diligent one is exhausted.

23. With me are motes of sorrow—had I cast them
In my lament, the rain clouds would have found no place.

24. And a regret my tears brought forth and ignited—
Had it returned to its valleys the stars would not have guided.

25. My life—grievous calamity has befallen me
With which the nights have been covered, and grave sorrows upon sorrows.

26. These are the decrees—so accept what your fate
Has brought you, of fresh and fertile, or barren and adverse.

27. For the command of things has appointed times,
Between those of them that alternate and those that persist.

28. If my longing retreats, then no wonder for one astonished,
Or my patience wanes, then no blame on one vexed.

29. An eye with lids weighed down by sleeplessness—
The absence of the beloved and declining health have burdened it.

30. My craving—is my craving of use?—my craving for a son,
When I resort to patience in it, I find none.

31. My craving—is my craving of use?—my craving for a moon
Cast by ill-omened fortune into eclipse.

32. My craving and craving for days altogether
For Muhammad, when he turned away and did not return.

33. And every eye is drowned in the water of tears,
And every heart aflame with the fire of passion.

34. I do not blame time which has terminally illed its master—
What has settled into its bowels is enough burning agony for it.

35. And how I asked the nights to hide him
From death, but they did not, and were not able.

36. Alas for the charm of eloquence wherein one of graceful gait
Nearness has contested with the agent of remoteness.

37. Would that, my son, you were not created for my misery—
Oh would that I had not been named as patient toward ardour!

38. Would that your full moon had not risen over any horizon,
And your sun had not shone upon any land.

39. How short were the hours I spent with you and held back—
Would that I had been stopped in observing the motions of the stars!

40. The rain of forgiveness and pardon watered your blessed grave
And solaced the hearts of the parents

41. For whom the passion you awakened in them stirred even the tranquil soul.