1. قَد عِشتَ في الناسِ غَريباً وَها

    قَد مُتَّ بَينَ الناسِ مَوتَ الغَريبْ

    You lived among people as a stranger, and behold,

    you have died among people the death of a stranger.

  2. وَالناسُ مُذ كانوا ذَوو قَسوَةٍ

    وَلَيسَ لِلبائِسِ فيهِم نَصيبْ

    And people, ever since they existed, have been cruel,

    and the wretched one has no share among them.

  3. لَو كُنتَ في حَبلِكَ شَنّاقَهُم

    لَوَلْوَلُوا حُزناً وَشَقّوا الجُبوبْ

    Had you, with your rope, been their hangman,

    they would have wailed in grief and torn their shirt-fronts.

  4. أَو كُنتَ مِن سِلكٍ رَزّاقَهُم

    لَقامَ عِندَ السَلِّ أَلفا خَطيبْ

    Or had you belonged to the ranks of their providers,

    two thousand orators would have risen beside the basket.

  5. وَنَزَّهوا حَبلَكَ عَن عَيبِهِ

    وَبَلَّلوا السَلَّ بِذَوبِ القُلوبْ

    And they would have absolved your rope of its fault,

    and drenched the basket with the melting of hearts.

  6. لكِنَّكَ الحَمّالُ لَم يَطمَعوا

    فيكَ وَلَم يَخشوا أَذاكَ الرَهيبْ

    But you, the porter—they sought no gain

    from you, nor feared your dreadful harm.

  7. رَغيفُكَ الطاهِرُ غَمَّستَهُ

    مِن عَرَقِ زاكٍ وَدَمعِ صَبيبْ

    Your pure loaf—you dipped it

    in pure sweat and streaming tears.

  8. ما كُنتَ سَلّاباً أَخا غَصبَةٍ

    بَل كُنتَ ذا حَقٍّ سَليبٍ غَصيبْ

    You were no plunderer, given to forcible seizure;

    rather, you were one whose right was robbed and usurped.

  9. فَرُحتَ لَم يَسكُب عَلَيكَ اِمرؤٌ

    دَمعاً وَلا قَلبٌ رَفيقٌ يَلوبْ

    So you departed; no one shed over you

    a tear, nor did a tender heart yearn restlessly.

  10. وَلَم يُوَدِّعكَ حَبيبٌ وَقَد

    يُهَوِّنُ الصَعبَ وَداعُ الحَبيبْ

    And no loved one bade you farewell, though

    a loved one's farewell eases hardship.

  11. حَبلُكَ وَالسَلُّ لَقَد أَودَيا

    بِهَيبَةِ المَوتِ الوُقورِ الرَهيبْ

    Your rope and the basket have indeed done away

    with the majesty of solemn, fearsome death.

  12. وَفيهِما لَو أَنصَفوا رِفعَةٌ

    وَشاهِداً أَفضَلَ وَخَيرٍ وَطيبْ

    And in both, if they were fair, there is nobility,

    and a nobler witness, and goodness and purity.

  13. قَد مَرَّ أَهلُ الدَربِ لَم يَأبَهوا

    لِلمُهمَلِ المَطروحِ فَوقَ الدُروبْ

    The people of the lane passed by, paying no heed

    to the neglected man cast upon the roads.

  14. كَم قَد سَأَلتَ الناسَ ماءً فَلَم

    يُجِبكَ النَزعُ شَفيقٌ مُجيبْ

    How often you asked people for water, yet no

    kind soul answered you in your death throes.

  15. أَو اِستَعَنتَ الطَبَّ لكِنَّما

    لَم تَملِك الأَجرَ فَفَرَّ الطَبيبْ

    Or you sought medical help, but

    you could not pay the fee, so the doctor fled.

  16. أَو رُبَّما أَوصَيَت أَو شِئتَ أَن

    توصي فَلَم يَسمَعَك حانٍ قَريبْ

    Or perhaps you made a will, or wished to

    make one, but no caring kinsman heard you.

  17. رُبَّ صَغيرٍ لَكَ خَلَّفتَهُ

    مُنتَظِراً إِيّاكَ حَتّى تَؤوبْ

    Perhaps you left behind a little child of your own,

    waiting for you until you return.

  18. يَرجوكَ لِلجوعِ الَّذي شَفَّهُ

    يا غائِباً عَنهُ وَطالَ المَغيبْ

    He looks to you for relief from the hunger that has wasted him,

    O you absent from him—and the absence has grown long!

  19. إِنَّ قَوافِيَّ عَلى قَحطِها

    تَلقى بِمَرآكَ المَجالَ الخَصيبْ

    Indeed, my rhymes, despite their barrenness,

    find a fertile field at the sight of you.

  20. بُرودكَ الهادىءُ قَد هاجَها

    فَجَرَّرَت غَضَبي ذُيولُ اللَهيبْ

    Your quiet coldness has stirred them,

    so the flame's trailing skirts dragged my anger along.

  21. يامَوقِظَ النِقمَةِ في أَضلُعي

    بَشَّعَتَ في عَيني الجَمالَ العَجيبْ

    O awakener of vengeance within my ribs,

    you have made wondrous beauty ugly in my eyes.

  22. لِثَوبِكَ الرَثِّ وَإِخلاقَهُ

    كَرِهتُ أَثوابَ الحَريرِ القَشيبْ

    Because of your ragged garment and its worn condition,

    I came to hate robes of fine new silk.

  23. وَالجَسَدُ الجامِدُ في يُبسِهِ

    كَرَّهَ لي الغُصنَ الطَرِيَّ الرَطيبْ

    And the rigid body, in its dryness,

    made me hate the tender, moist branch.

  24. وَصَمتُكَ الرائِعُ يا موحِشي

    بَغَّضَ لي الصَوتَ الحَنونَ الطَروبْ

    And your terrifying silence, O you who make me desolate,

    made me loathe the tender, melodious voice.

  25. زَهَّدَتني بِالعَيشِ في مَعشَرٍ

    عارٍ عَنِ الرَحمَةِ خاوٍ جَديبْ

    You have made me lose the desire to live among a people

    bare of mercy, hollow and barren.

  26. حَياتُكَ المَأساةُ مَثَّلتَها

    ذِروَتَها الفَصلُ الأَخيرُ الكَئيبْ

    Your life—the tragedy you acted out—

    its climax was the final, dismal act.

  27. وَراقَبَ الناسُ تَفاصيلَها

    لكِنَّهُ ما إِن وَعاها رَقيبْ

    And people watched its details,

    yet no watcher truly understood it.

  28. يا حَسرَتاهُ قَد فاتَني بَدؤُها

    وَأُسدِلَت قَبلي عَلَيها الحُجوبْ

    Alas! I missed its beginning,

    and the curtains were drawn over it before I came.

  29. أَولا فَلَو أَبصَرتَها كُلَّها

    لَكُنتُ مِن وَجدي وَحُزني أَذوبْ

    Or no—for had you seen it all,

    I would have melted from my anguish and sorrow.

  30. إِنّي مِنَ الناسِ وَلكِنَّني

    في رِقَّتي عَنهُمُ بَعيدٌ جَنيبْ

    Indeed, I am one of humankind, yet I

    in my tenderness, am distant from them, set apart.

  31. أَبكي عَلى الظالِمِ مِن رِقَّةٍ

    وَخِنجَر الظالِمِ مِنّي شَريبْ

    I weep for the oppressor out of tenderness,

    while the oppressor's dagger drinks its fill of me.

  32. فِراقُ هذا الناسِ عيدٌ فَلا

    تَجزعْ وَذي الراحَةِ بَعدَ اللُغوبْ

    Parting from these people is a feast, so do not

    grieve; and this is rest after weariness.