1. Do you hear the rustle of wings
In the air, hastening and awaiting?

2. Listen, that is the soul of our poet,
Fawzi, whose veils have been rent.

3. Seeing loyalty wearied him, so
He descended from on high, awaiting.

4. O soul, if we grieve for him, indeed
Grief has filled the exalted, the excellent and cultured.

5. The mother of languages today mourns,
Weeping for her dear son, lamenting,

6. Weeping for the sublime thirty years
Filled with sorrows, as if toil had not been created.

7. He reached the farthest limit in them, though they were unfinished,
What can be said if spans of time were extended for him?

8. After Fawzi, is there a bird that sings
Filling our souls with joy?

9. After the genius of verse, is there a youth
Who ascends, so that the stars incline their hearing?

10. I grieve for the valley melting in ardour,
Its sweet water almost exhausted.

11. In the lions determination falters,
Sorrow inflames their livers.

12. In the eyelids sleep melts away.
Tears mingle with the entrails, pouring forth.

13. The meadows, their nightingales have fallen silent
Since the nightingale's joy departed.

14. O his soul, if you can hear
In the west we have brothers, elites

15. Who left their homes though they loved them
And aspired to the sublime, so they were exiled.

16. Be a good messenger to them, for you
Can sing what books have not sung.

17. Say to them we share with them
The burden of sorrow in all their tribulations.

18. Say to them the Shaykh, sorrows and misfortunes
Have settled in his ribs.

19. He yearns for sons absent from him -
If only his sons knew his longing!

20. O Fawzi's soul, if I weep for
Fawzi, that is the least of what is required.