1. She worries of death and its misfortune,
Though time is no sympathizer for one who grieves,

2. Umaymah said “Why is your body so wan?
Since wealth made you recreant, yet the likes of you profit,

3. Or why can’t your side bear a bed
Save when that bed makes an end of you?"

4. I answered her "My body is wan
Because it has bidden my sons farewell as they departed from the land,

5. It has bidden my sons and left me distraught
After slumber and flowing tears that won't stop,

6. They outpaced my desires and stubbornly followed their own passions
So they perished, and for every side there is a death,

7. After them I lived a hostile life
And I fear that I will follow as one pursued,

8. And I strove to defend them
Yet when death came, it could not be driven back,

9. When death sinks its claws
Any amulet proves useless,

10. After them my eyes are as if
Their pupils are pierced with thorns and thus they weep,

11. So that it seems I am like a horse for events -
Every day at the shining plain they prod me,

12. There must come a sure destruction, so wait -
Will it be in your people's land or another your death?

13. And I see that weeping is foolishness
Though the bereaved will be consumed with weeping,

14. And days of bitterness will come upon you
When you are mourned silently, unable to hear,

15. My patience before the gloaters I show them
That I do not quail before the turns of fate,

16. And the soul, if you indulge it
Is content with little, if you forbid it,

17. How many whose love was united, living a life of bliss
Broke apart,

18. And if time and its chance distressed them
Then I am distressed for my beloved ones,

19. Time does not last with its novelties
Like the summit of a lofty, unassailable crag,

20. Time does not last with its novelties
The cheeks of the young men - it has four deceivers -

21. The din of drinking, it is as if it is
A slave of the family of Abu Rabee'ah, fully armed,

22. It ate away his beauty, and smoothcheek yielded to it
Like a canal that the waters have twisted,

23. With the decision of the rain's pouring in the valleys
Confusing, it does not swerve,

24. So he floundered for a time in a meadow
At times finding relief, at times listening,

25. Until, when the waters of his prime ebbed
And his sweetness was cut to pieces,

26. He recalled the flowers there and fate grew difficult
Inauspicious, and his time came, catching up,

27. So I tempted them from the rain pools, but its water
Was turbid, and the way was confusing,

28. As if, with alarm, between springs
And mountain-tops, it was plunder heaped together,

29. As if they were a wine-skin, and as if
He were a brimming cup overflowing on the goblets and cracking,

30. As if he were a short neck being tossed
In the palm, though it is more wretched,

31. So they came while the knight kept guard
Over the stricken, not mixing with the verse,

32. He entered among chambers of fresh, cool
Pebbles - the one-eyed disappears among them,

33. So they drank, then heard a voice beneath
The screen, and the sound of knocking, knocked,

34. And a talebearer's whispering, stealing glances
In his palm a mocking, blinding blink,

35. They were suspicious of him, so turned, and mailed warriors stood against him
Skilled, brave men and brave commander.

36. He shot, launching sure, deadly,
Splitting arrows, and their feathers ruffled,

37. Then his kinsman appeared, in flight,
A colt, and he was cautious in archery, turning,

38. He shot, hitting high, splitting
The temples, and ribs closed over him,

39. So they bared their swords, and he fled
On his blood or pacing, stumbling,

40. They tripped on the skirts of coats of mail as if
Clad in the mailshirts of the sons of Yazeed's cavalry,

41. Time does not last with its novelties
Youth frightened by the dogs, startled,

42. The prowling dogs terrified his heart
And when he saw the true dawn, he was startled,

43. And took refuge in shelter when a shower dripped on him
And his comfort was little, shaking,

44. He glanced around him with narrowed eyes
Believing what he heard with narrowed eyes,

45. Then in the morning he showed his belly, and the first
Of its outrunners appeared to him, close by,

46. He was terrified and closed his private parts
With dust - hungry, ravenous she-wolves,

47. They tore at him while he took shelter
In the two saddlebags, burning,

48. So he presented to them two palms as if they were
Those who hasten to roast some morning broth,

49. As if two fire-sticks when rubbed together
Hastened to kindle a roast for him,

50. So they threw him down in the dust, and his side
Was prone, and for each side there is a death,

51. Until when they turned back from him, and a party of them
Returned, and their exiled one pleaded,

52. The lord of the wolves appeared to him in his palm,
White, oh tender feathers ruffled,

53. He shot to save his mare, but an arrow came to him
And tore out his two guts, unraveled,

54. So he toppled like a pole of Syrian teak
Felled, except that he was more wretched,

55. Time does not last with its novelties
A warrior whose neck met the iron masked,

56. His coat of mail grew hot over him until his face
From its heat on the day of horror was blackened,

57. Scabby camels carry him, their pace tearing
The throats of travelers - they are limp, mangled,

58. The cooking pots boiled it, so its meat was shredded
By the cooking, and fingers sink into it,

59. Its rings fall apart revealing a cook
Like an ear, its dust does not stick together,

60. It refuses, when coerced, to couple
Save with ardor, for it is easily angered,

61. One day he had the chance to go passionately
To her, when boldness was allowed,

62. The rending of hyenas carries him as if
He were unbroken iron, its echo sound,

63. They called to each other, and their horses stood
And both champions prepared for the meeting, masked,

64. Vying for glory, each confident
In his prowess, and the day a fearful day,

65. Over them extended coats of mail forged
By David or the work of perfect craftsmen,

66. And each in his hand held a straight spear
In which were cleaving heads like a beacon,

67. And each wound round himself a sash in splendor
Wrathful, severing when it strikes a blow,

68. They spied on each other through chinks
Like the eye-holes of a helmet that are not patched,

69. And both had lived the life of glory
And plucked the heights, if only that could avail,