1. Though my hand trembles, Abu Jareer, as I write
This consolation, while my pen weeps stumbling,

2. I do not pretend in my poetry with my condolence,
For your grief is from my grief and my pain.

3. We are all confused, the caravan of travelers
That walks from the farthest nonexistence to nonexistence.

4. Each has his role, and all are an experience
With which life plays, awake and dreaming.

5. Nothing remains but the memory, if it remains,
And how many nations have passed, yearning for nations.

6. You have mocked us, and desires mock
And you have freed us, but we are not free from shackles.

7. Take my tear, my friend, as some consolation
And mix it with your faithful tear, and do not blame.

8. This life and this death never parted
Like twins, in the lot of all people.

9.
It is as if these grasses are our brothers

10. And their lifetime is our lifetime, in length and antiquity.
And the mind was nothing but a guest of our company

11. In this existence, and was not detached from binding.
Mock, my friend, no matter how much you cry blood

12. As I mocked when I shed my blood.
Mock while you are the master of mockery in literature

13. Alive, transcending death and decay.
Mock until the universe completes its cycle