مَلَلتُ عَيشي فَعوجي يا مَنِيَّةُ بي

مَلَلتُ عَيشي فَعوجي يا مَنِيَّةُ بي

وَذُقتُ فَنِيَّه مِن بُؤسٍ وَمِن رَغدِ

وَذُقتُ فَنِيَّه مِن بُؤسٍ وَمِن رَغدِ

I have grown weary of my life; so turn toward me, O Death.

I'm weary of this life though its end eludes me still

And I have tasted its two kinds: misery and ease.

I've tasted the bitterness of misery and wealth

غَدي سَيوجِدُ أَمسي لا يُنازِعُني

غَدي سَيوجِدُ أَمسي لا يُنازِعُني

في ذاكَ خَلقٌ وَأَمسي لا يَصيرُ غَدي

في ذاكَ خَلقٌ وَأَمسي لا يَصيرُ غَدي

My tomorrow will bring my yesterday into being; I am not contradicted

Tomorrow my today will be, none can contest that fact

in this by anyone, and my yesterday does not become my tomorrow.

Today, tomorrow, new creations, but this today will never again be tomorrow