نَيِّراتُ الأَيّامِ بَعدَكَ حُلكُ

نَيِّراتُ الأَيّامِ بَعدَكَ حُلكُ

وَحَياةُ الغَريبِ دونَكَ هُلكُ

وَحَياةُ الغَريبِ دونَكَ هُلكُ

The bright days are darkness after you,

The days after you are dark

The shining days have turned pitch-black after you,

and the stranger's life without you is ruin.

And a stranger's life without you perishes

And the life of the stranger without you is utter ruin.

يا هِلالاً مَتى ذَكَرتُ سناهُ

يا هِلالاً مَتى ذَكَرتُ سناهُ

يَتَناثَر مِن لُؤلُؤِ الدَمعِ سَلكُ

يَتَناثَر مِن لُؤلُؤِ الدَمعِ سَلكُ

O crescent moon, whenever I recall its radiance,

O crescent, whenever I remember him

O crescent moon—whenever I recall his radiance,

a string of tear-pearls scatters.

Strings of pearls pour from my tears

A string of pearly tears scatters down.

ظُلمَةُ القَبرِ مِن محيّاكَ نور

ظُلمَةُ القَبرِ مِن محيّاكَ نور

وَثَراهُ مِن طيبِ رَيّاهُ مِسكُ

وَثَراهُ مِن طيبِ رَيّاهُ مِسكُ

The grave's darkness is light from your face,

The darkness of the grave becomes light with your presence

The darkness of the grave is lit by your face,

and its soil is musk from the sweetness of its fragrance.

And its soil becomes musk with the scent of your winds

And its soil, from your sweet scent, becomes musk.

شُقِّقَت هذِهِ القُلوبُ لِمَنعا

شُقِّقَت هذِهِ القُلوبُ لِمَنعا

كَ وَإِن لَم يُشَقَّ عَنهُنَّ مِسكُ

كَ وَإِن لَم يُشَقَّ عَنهُنَّ مِسكُ

These hearts were torn by the tidings of your death,

These hearts were split though musk was not split open

These hearts were torn open at the loss of you,

though no skin over them was torn.

You return, so return my love with a message

Even if no musk pods were torn open to release their scent.

عُد فَذُد بِالخِطابِ عَنّي خطوبا

عُد فَذُد بِالخِطابِ عَنّي خطوبا

لِأَديمي أَديم مِنهُنَّ عَركُ

لِأَديمي أَديم مِنهُنَّ عَركُ

Return, and with your speech fend off calamities from me,

So my tears flow continuously

Return and drive away calamities from me with your voice,

whose chafing against my skin never ceases.

For my nights I have a lyre and arrows

For my skin has been worn thin by their constant friction.

لِلَّيالي عِندي قَناً وَنِبالٌ

لِلَّيالي عِندي قَناً وَنِبالٌ

خيَّلت أَنَّهُنّ عُربٌ وَتُركُ

خيَّلت أَنَّهُنّ عُربٌ وَتُركُ

The nights have spears and arrows against me;

I imagined they were Arabs and Turks

The nights possess spears and arrows aimed at me;

they seemed to me Arabs and Turks.

Strangely, I drag my tail in life

I imagined them to be armies of Arabs and Turks.

عَجَباً لي أَجرُّ في الدَهرِ ذَيلي

عَجَباً لي أَجرُّ في الدَهرِ ذَيلي

وَأَنا في يَدَيهِ رَهنٌ وَمِلكُ

وَأَنا في يَدَيهِ رَهنٌ وَمِلكُ

How strange that I drag my robe's train through time,

While I am its pawn and possession

How strange that I drag my train proudly through time,

while in its hands I am a pledge and a possession!

As if I am a steed racehorse galloping

While I remain a hostage and a possession in its hands.

فَكَأَنّي صَعبٌ مِنَ الخَيلِ يَختا

فَكَأَنّي صَعبٌ مِنَ الخَيلِ يَختا

لُ وَفي الأَربعِ الرَواكِضِ شَركُ

لُ وَفي الأَربعِ الرَواكِضِ شَركُ

As though I were a headstrong horse that

While equal to others in the racetrack

As if I were an untamed horse strutting proudly,

struts, with a snare on its four racing legs.

My feast day passed and I did not shed blood

While a snare binds my four galloping limbs.

مَرَّ عيدي فَما سَفَحتُ دَماً إِل

مَرَّ عيدي فَما سَفَحتُ دَماً إِل

لا مِنَ العَينِ وَالمَعيشَةِ ضَنكُ

لا مِنَ العَينِ وَالمَعيشَةِ ضَنكُ

My feast day passed, and I shed no blood

Except from the eyes and tight livelihood

My feast day passed, and I shed no blood in sacrifice,

except from my eyes, while life was straitened.

I found no generosity, and at every feast

Except from my eyes, while life is strict and narrow.

لَم أَجِد سَخلَةً وَفي كُلِّ عيدٍ

لَم أَجِد سَخلَةً وَفي كُلِّ عيدٍ

لَم تعرني مَعَ المباركِ بركُ

لَم تعرني مَعَ المباركِ بركُ

I found no lamb, though at every feast

No blessing included me among the blessed

I found no lamb to offer, and in every feast

camel herds, with their resting grounds, had never impoverished me.

If death had left us, we would have left

No kneeling beast was granted me alongside the blessed.

لَو سِوى المَوت رامَهُ لتَرَكنا

لَو سِوى المَوت رامَهُ لتَرَكنا

بِالعَوالي فَرائِسَ الأسدِ تَمكو

بِالعَوالي فَرائِسَ الأسدِ تَمكو

Had anything but Death sought him, we would have left

The lion cubs prey in the highlands

Had anything but Death sought him, we would have left

with long spears, the lions' prey whistling.

The seal of prophets met his death

The lions' prey whistling under our high spears.

خاتمُ الأَنبِياءُ أَدرَكَهُ المَو

خاتمُ الأَنبِياءُ أَدرَكَهُ المَو

تُ وَبَينَ العِبادِ في المَوتِ شَركُ

تُ وَبَينَ العِبادِ في المَوتِ شَركُ

The Seal of the Prophets was overtaken by

And between worshipers in death is fellowship

Even the Seal of the Prophets was overtaken by death;

death; all people share in death.

Solomon, the day of his death, was not helped

Indeed, all God's servants share in this mortality.

وَسُلَيمانُ يَومَ مَصرَعِهِ لَم

وَسُلَيمانُ يَومَ مَصرَعِهِ لَم

يُغنِهِ أَنَّهُ نَبِيُّ وَمَلكُ

يُغنِهِ أَنَّهُ نَبِيُّ وَمَلكُ

And Solomon, on the day of his death, was not

By being a prophet and a king

And Solomon, on the day of his demise—it did not

saved by being a prophet and a king.

The lion boasts of being a killer

Avail him that he was both a prophet and a king.

تَفخَرُ الأسدُ أَنَّها فاتِكاتٌ

تَفخَرُ الأسدُ أَنَّها فاتِكاتٌ

وَلِرَيبِ المَنونِ بِالأسدِ فَتكُ

وَلِرَيبِ المَنونِ بِالأسدِ فَتكُ

Lions boast that they are deadly killers,

Yet against the stroke of death, it is killed

Lions boast that they are deadly slayers,

yet death's vicissitudes slay the lions.

Whether we took up arms or not

Yet the vicissitudes of fate slay even the lions.

إِن أَخَذنا سِلاحَنا أَو تَرَكنا

إِن أَخَذنا سِلاحَنا أَو تَرَكنا

فَسواءٌ في المَوتِ أَخذٌ وَتَركُ

فَسواءٌ في المَوتِ أَخذٌ وَتَركُ

Whether we take up our weapons or lay them aside,

In death, taking and leaving are the same

Whether we take up our arms or lay them down,

taking up and laying aside are alike in death.

My soul yearns for a happy crescent

In the face of death, taking and leaving are the same.

لَهفُ نَفسي عَلى هِلالٍ سَعيدٍ

لَهفُ نَفسي عَلى هِلالٍ سَعيدٍ

يَنقُصُ البَدرُ وَهُوَ يَنمى وَيَزكو

يَنقُصُ البَدرُ وَهُوَ يَنمى وَيَزكو

My soul aches for a blessed crescent:

The full moon decreases as it waxes

My soul sighs for a fortunate crescent moon;

the full moon wanes while he grows and flourishes.

And promises hopes to be fulfilled

The full moon wanes, yet he was growing and thriving.

وعدَت بِالتَمامِ فيهِ الأَماني

وعدَت بِالتَمامِ فيهِ الأَماني

فَإِذا مَوعِدُ الأَمانِيِّ إِفكُ

فَإِذا مَوعِدُ الأَمانِيِّ إِفكُ

Hopes promised fullness for him,

But the hopes' time is false

My hopes promised he would reach fullness,

but behold, hope's promise is a lie.

It did not please me until it waned

But alas, the promise of such hopes was a lie.

لَم يَرُقني حَتّى بَدا آفِلا فَاِن

لَم يَرُقني حَتّى بَدا آفِلا فَاِن

فَطَرَت لِلعُلا سَماء وَحُبكُ

فَطَرَت لِلعُلا سَماء وَحُبكُ

He had scarcely delighted me when he appeared to set; then

So the horizons of high ambitions cracked

He did not delight me long before he set,

the sky of lofty glory and its woven paths split apart.

O my friend, is there an eclipse of the morning sun

And so the sky and its orbits cracked open for the heights.

يا خَليلَيَّ هَل بِشَمسِ الضُحى اليَو

يا خَليلَيَّ هَل بِشَمسِ الضُحى اليَو

مَ كُسوفٌ وَبِالبَسيطَةُ دَكُّ

مَ كُسوفٌ وَبِالبَسيطَةُ دَكُّ

O my two friends, is today's forenoon sun

And at Al-Basita, destruction?

O my two friends, is there an eclipse in the morning sun today?

eclipsed, and is the earth being crushed?

Abdul Ghani, solace of my eye, died

Is the earth being leveled to dust?

ماتَ عَبدُ الغَنيّ قُرَّة عَيني

ماتَ عَبدُ الغَنيّ قُرَّة عَيني

فَسَلا الثُكلَ هَل لِعانيهِ فَكُّ

فَسَلا الثُكلَ هَل لِعانيهِ فَكُّ

Abd al-Ghani has died, the delight of my eye;

So the bereavement asked, is there relief from grief?

Abdul-Ghani has died, the delight of my eye;

so ask bereavement: is there release for its captive?

Abdul Ghani was the basil of the soul

So ask bereavement: is there any release for its captive?

كانَ عَبد الغنيّ ريحانَة النَف

كانَ عَبد الغنيّ ريحانَة النَف

سِ وَمرَّ الضَنى إِذا اِشتَدَّ نَهكُ

سِ وَمرَّ الضَنى إِذا اِشتَدَّ نَهكُ

Abd al-Ghani was the sweet basil of my

And grief intensified whenever it grew

Abdul-Ghani was the sweet basil of my soul,

soul, and myrrh against illness when exhaustion grew severe.

And if the pillars of glory became strong

But the bitterness of wasting disease, when severe, is utter ruin.

وَإِذا شَيَّدَ بَيت مَجدٍ أَثيل

وَإِذا شَيَّدَ بَيت مَجدٍ أَثيل

فَعِمادٌ عَبدُ الغنيّ وَسمكُ

فَعِمادٌ عَبدُ الغنيّ وَسمكُ

And whenever a house of deep-rooted glory is raised,

Abdul Ghani was its pillar and its basis

And if a house of ancient glory were raised,

Abd al-Ghani is its pillar and its lofty roof.

An active, beneficial, righteous, and wise man

Abdul-Ghani would be its pillar and its roof.

يافِعٌ نافِعٌ زَكيّ ذَكِيٌّ

يافِعٌ نافِعٌ زَكيّ ذَكِيٌّ

عَقلُهُ مُعقَلٌ وَسيماهُ نسكُ

عَقلُهُ مُعقَلٌ وَسيماهُ نسكُ

Young, helpful, pure, intelligent,

His mind a refuge and his mark devoutness

A youth, useful, pure, and sharp of wit;

his mind a stronghold, his bearing piety.

Resembling one whose hands were cut off for his mirror

His mind a fortress, his countenance marked by piety.

شِبهُ مَن قُطِّعَت لِمَرآهُ أَيدٍ

شِبهُ مَن قُطِّعَت لِمَرآهُ أَيدٍ

وَالَّذي أَعتَدَتهُ لِلقَطعِ مَتكُ

وَالَّذي أَعتَدَتهُ لِلقَطعِ مَتكُ

Like the one at whose sight hands were cut,

And the one whose hands cut for cutting sake

He resembled the one for whose beauty hands were sliced,

and what she had prepared for cutting was citron.

I am like Jacob, grieving and sad

When the citrus fruit was prepared for the cutting.

وَكأَنّي يَعقوبُ بَثّاً وَحُزناً

وَكأَنّي يَعقوبُ بَثّاً وَحُزناً

فَإِلى اللَهِ مِثل شَكواهُ أَشكو

فَإِلى اللَهِ مِثل شَكواهُ أَشكو

And I am as Jacob in anguish and grief,

So to God, I complain like his complaints

And I am like Jacob in my anguish and grief,

so to God I complain as he did.

Except I despaired of him, but Jacob

So to God I complain, just as he complained.

غَيرَ أَنّي يَئِستُ مِنهُ وَيَعقو

غَيرَ أَنّي يَئِستُ مِنهُ وَيَعقو

بُ رَأى يوسُفاً وَعُقباهُ ملكُ

بُ رَأى يوسُفاً وَعُقباهُ ملكُ

Except that I have despaired of him, while Jacob

Saw Joseph again and his consequence was kingship

Except that I have despaired of him, while Jacob

saw Joseph, whose final lot was kingship,

After hardship for eighty years

Saw Joseph again, whose end was kingship.

بَعدَ أَن شاقَهُ ثَمانينَ عاماً

بَعدَ أَن شاقَهُ ثَمانينَ عاماً

وَهوَ يَبكي وَلَوعَةُ الشَوقِ تَذكو

وَهوَ يَبكي وَلَوعَةُ الشَوقِ تَذكو

after yearning for him for eighty years,

While he cried and yearning burned

After he missed him for eighty years,

while he wept and the anguish of longing blazed.

Knowing well that five hundred years

Weeping while the fire of yearning blazed.

وَإِذا صَحَّ أَنَّ خمسَ مئٍ ما

وَإِذا صَحَّ أَنَّ خمسَ مئٍ ما

يَلبَثُ المُصطَفى دَفيناً فَوَشكُ

يَلبَثُ المُصطَفى دَفيناً فَوَشكُ

And if it is true that five hundred years are how long

The Chosen One did not remain buried is assured

And if it is true that the Chosen One remains buried

the Chosen One stays buried, then the time is near.

Only three hundred and five remain of them

For but half a millennium, then the time is near.

ما البَقايا مِنهُنَّ إِلّا ثَلاثو

ما البَقايا مِنهُنَّ إِلّا ثَلاثو

نَ وَخمسٌ وَلَيسَ في البَعثِ شَكُّ

نَ وَخمسٌ وَلَيسَ في البَعثِ شَكُّ

Of those years, the remainder is only thirty

And there is no doubt about the resurrection

All that remains of those years is thirty-

and five; there is no doubt of resurrection.

Then we will meet in the resurrection, but how

And five—and in the Resurrection, there is no doubt.

ثُمَّ أَلقاكَ في النُشورِ وَأَنّى

ثُمَّ أَلقاكَ في النُشورِ وَأَنّى

نَتَلاقى وَثَمَّ فَوتٌ وَدَركُ

نَتَلاقى وَثَمَّ فَوتٌ وَدَركُ

Then I shall meet you at the rising—but how

When there is loss and prevention in between?

Then I shall meet you in the Resurrection—yet how

shall we meet, with loss and attainment there?

Perhaps God will bring me close to you

Shall we meet when there is loss and retribution there?

وَعَسى اللَه أَن يُقَرِّبني مِن

وَعَسى اللَه أَن يُقَرِّبني مِن

كَ بِطوبى وَذا البَكا ثمّ ضحكُ

كَ بِطوبى وَذا البَكا ثمّ ضحكُ

May God draw me near

With blessing, while the one who wept now laughs

May God bring me close to you in Paradise,

to you in Tuba; may this weeping then turn to laughter.

O martyr of Al-Raaf, how did an Indian sword shine from you

And may this weeping turn, then, to laughter.

يا قَتيلَ الرّعافِ كَيفَ نَبا مِن

يا قَتيلَ الرّعافِ كَيفَ نَبا مِن

كَ حُسامٌ لَهُ مَضاءٌ وَفَتكُ

كَ حُسامٌ لَهُ مَضاءٌ وَفَتكُ

O victim of the nosebleed, how did it recoil from

That has brightness and sharpness?

O victim of the hemorrhage, how did a sharp sword,

you—that sword so keen and deadly?

O martyr of Al-Raaf, be honored through

Known for its deadly edge, bounce harmlessly off you?

يا قَتيمَ الرّعافِ أَعزز عَلَينا

يا قَتيمَ الرّعافِ أَعزز عَلَينا

بِدَمِ طَلُّهُ مِنَ الأَنفِ سَفكُ

بِدَمِ طَلُّهُ مِنَ الأَنفِ سَفكُ

O victim of the nosebleed, how grievous to us

Blood dripping from your nostril was shed

O victim of the hemorrhage, how heavy it is upon us—

is blood shed from the nose and left unavenged!

O martyr of Al-Raaf, I am drowning

This blood spilled wastefully from the nose.

يا قَتيلَ الرّعافِ إِنّي غَريقٌ

يا قَتيلَ الرّعافِ إِنّي غَريقٌ

في بِحارٍ لَم يَجرِ فيهِنَّ فُلكُ

في بِحارٍ لَم يَجرِ فيهِنَّ فُلكُ

O victim of the nosebleed, I am drowning

In seas no ships have sailed

O victim of the hemorrhage, I am drowning

in seas no ship has sailed.

I was content with little and became full

In seas wherein no ship has ever sailed.

سُجِّرت بِالقَليلِ وَاِمتَلَأَت مِن

سُجِّرت بِالقَليلِ وَاِمتَلَأَت مِن

عبراتٍ فيهِنَّ لِلسِّرِّ هَتكُ

عبراتٍ فيهِنَّ لِلسِّرِّ هَتكُ

Filled by a little, they brimmed with

Of tears in which secrets were exposed

These seas were fueled by the little things, and filled

tears that lay the secret bare.

An illness which if I recovered from

With tears that expose the deepest secrets.

علَّة لَو أَفَقت مِنها لِسَعدي

علَّة لَو أَفَقت مِنها لِسَعدي

كُنتَ مِثلَ النُظار أَصفاهُ سَبكُ

كُنتَ مِثلَ النُظار أَصفاهُ سَبكُ

An illness—had you recovered from it, to my good fortune,

You would be to me like the onlookers, purest musk

It was an illness from which, had you recovered for my joy,

you would have been like gold refined by smelting.

Do you think the separation of a mother

You would have been like gold refined by the fire.

أَترى أَمرَضَتكَ فرقَةُ أُمٍّ

أَترى أَمرَضَتكَ فرقَةُ أُمٍّ

دَأبها في أَبيكَ غَدرٌ وَفَركُ

دَأبها في أَبيكَ غَدرٌ وَفَركُ

Do you think separation from a mother made you ill,

Whose habit with your father was betrayal and abandonment

Do you think the separation from a mother made you ill?

whose way toward your father is betrayal and loathing?

Made you sick? Does she cry when a journey nears?

Her habit toward your father is betrayal and loathing.

أَتراها تَبكي إِذا آبَ سفرٌ

أَتراها تَبكي إِذا آبَ سفرٌ

إِن تَسَلهُم هَل عِشتَ أَم متَّ يَحكوا

إِن تَسَلهُم هَل عِشتَ أَم متَّ يَحكوا

Do you think she weeps when travelers return

If they ask, “Did he live or die?” they would say

Do you think she weeps when travelers return?

and tell her, if she asks, whether you lived or died?

I cry for you with my eyelids full

If she were to ask them if you lived or died, they would tell.

أَنا أَبكي عَلَيكَ مِلءَ جُفوني

أَنا أَبكي عَلَيكَ مِلءَ جُفوني

وَالأَعادي مَتى بَكيتُكَ يَبكوا

وَالأَعادي مَتى بَكيتُكَ يَبكوا

I weep for you till my eyelids brim,

And if enemies cried for you, they would cry

I weep for you with eyelids brimming full,

and even enemies weep whenever I mourn you.

And even my enemies, seeing me weep for you, weep too.