أَصبَحت يَومَ دَهاكَ المَوتُ يا وَلَدي

أَصبَحت يَومَ دَهاكَ المَوتُ يا وَلَدي

كَأَنَّ حَولي مِنَ الظلماءِ أملاثا

كَأَنَّ حَولي مِنَ الظلماءِ أملاثا

I awoke on the day death struck you, my son,

The day of your death, my son, became

On the day death overtook you, my son, I became

as though patches of mingled darkness lay around me.

As if dark ghosts surrounded me.

As though confused heaps of darkness surrounded me;

فَما دَرَيتُ وَثَوبَ اللَيلِ يَشمَلُني

فَما دَرَيتُ وَثَوبَ اللَيلِ يَشمَلُني

نَضا النَهارُ إِزارَ اللَيلِ أَم لاثا

نَضا النَهارُ إِزارَ اللَيلِ أَم لاثا

So I could not tell, while night's robe enveloped me,

I knew not if the night donned

And I knew not, while the robe of night enshrouded me,

whether day had cast off night's wrap or wound it about itself.

Its robe, or if dawn had cast it.

Whether the day had stripped away the night's cloak, or wrapped it tight.