هَيهاتَ لَيسَ لِعَيشِ الص

هَيهاتَ لَيسَ لِعَيشِ الص

صبا عَلَيَّ مَهاهُ

صبا عَلَيَّ مَهاهُ

Alas, the life of youth

Alas, the morning of youth shall dawn no more,

Far be it! The life of youth...

holds no delight for me.

Its relentless passage has wounded me to the core.

...has no lustre left for me.

فَاِسأَل كناسَ الحِمى هَل

فَاِسأَل كناسَ الحِمى هَل

قَضَت عَلَيَّ مَهاهُ

قَضَت عَلَيَّ مَهاهُ

So ask the lair in the protected pasture whether

Ask the watchmen if night has passed its reign,

Ask the sanctuary's lair if...

its oryx have passed judgment against me.

If its tyranny has inflicted the final pain.

...its wild gazelles have slain me.