1. There is no solace for this calamity,
Whether time improves or worsens afterwards.

2. If we are forbidden to shed tears,
Or lower our voices in lament, it would be hypocrisy.

3. Oh soul, sorrow that rends the morning,
And anguish that shakes the inner feelings,

4. Lament filling the ribs, so if it inclines
Towards the sides, it turns into weeping,

5. A moan between the sides that reveals
Whenever it wishes, chaste sadness,

6. And yearning that reminds the bereaved one of loss
So she forgets its course and crying,

7. And grief and melancholy that responds
To the cooing of the grey dove,

8. And tears that are shy of resembling water
So they are dyed with modesty, blood,

9. From eyes that were eyes before
Then became brightly shining because of loss,

10. Shedding disgrace, the dust making them bleary,
When sorrow assails the heart with despair,

11. Ask the champions for help.
People, we know, lost a great and grave man,

12. They are not all equal.
How can we be consoled about one who left

13. Glory, felicity, wisdom, clarity, and loftiness?
The excellent traits, if baseness boasts of possessing them,

14. Claiming smoothness and purity.
The bashful one, whose appearance dazzled sights,

15. Bringing beauty, radiance and light.
The fair hands that shook hands cordially

16. Until he made them prosperous.
The high principles that soared with the eagles

17. Shining morning and evening.
And dignity, if it disciplined the unruly winds,

18. It would turn discord into tranquility.
The tongues of critics fell silent,

19. And every ear wishing to slander turned deaf.
They are ignorant that they have lamented

20. The protected, refined and aloof glory.
When they said - if only they had concealed the news from us

21. Or obliterated the reports.
The hands of time recoiled in grief over the son of Yusuf,

22. Folding up the darkness and night journey.
It does not coil upon a minaret, neither does it request

23. A rose, nor obey a claim.
After being like obedient slaves,

24. Hearing, obeying, nights being maidens.
The adornment of religion, religion is stripped of it,

25. And the adornment of the world, the limbs are lifeless.
If the wedding of virtues sought a husband,

26. It would miss, after his loss, the compatible ones.
One who if the rights of God called him,

27. He answered as an equitable and caring patron.
And if the hand of righteousness stretched out to him,

28. He would honor the white and the yellow (race).
One whose awe-inspiring manner perceived coercion,

29. So it gestured refusal.
He extinguishes the people’s fire in contention,

30. So if he speaks they silence their clamor.
One who, if the orphans weep when he dies,

31. Then he has orphaned the poor.
His carriers do not know that they

32. Have removed the shades and shelter.
They inserted a sword in the gown,

33. And wrapped a barren wick in the turban.
They entrust the earth, as God has decreed,

34. With a sorrowful rain-cloud in the morning.
If the virtuous were to choose for him,

35. They would not make the clouds his tomb, except the sky.
What a disaster that has afflicted the world,

36. Pouring and specifically affecting the great ones.
We do not know if hardships enliven and so wreak havoc,

37. Or if they kill prosperity.
Except that we see every soul

38. Breathlessly sighing for it.
We never saw a day like the day

39. When you bid farewell to the living and the dead.
People follow that light in procession

40. As Thursday follows the crescent banner.
Feet in the dust wearing the earth,

41. And passions wearing dried plants.
So the doves imagined that you were

42. Marching towards it with a brilliant battalion,
Or the tribes walked towards it, asking

43. For self-sacrifice and ransom to it.
You are one of a group who refuse

44. To let honorable mention taste their enemies’ glee.
They are like people tasting bodies

45. But immortalizing praise.
They could not endure to ward off the days’ stabs

46. From themselves, so they dispatched the names.
The clouds gathered over your grave, sometimes

47. Grumbling with hail, others binding.
With mouths wide open you would think them

48. A mirage quenching those suffering thirst.
For it waters your grave drop by drop,

49. And from visiting you, one is given prayer and supplication.
All of us are prone to decline, and ideals

50. Were not created except as envoys between us.
And if life is truly the elixir of meaning,

51. Then we are devoid of remedy.
These hopes in the soul are a mirage

52. That does not satisfy the thirsty.
And the black days do not accept

53. Bodies as nourishment, and eat the kernels.
How many brilliant comets take refuge in the atmosphere

54. Then plummet to the earth as echoes!
These nights have departed, so if asked,

55. They would deny what the blamers accuse them of.
We are at their threshold, which does not benefit

56. Like one scratching scabies.
The more blame is repeated for its wrongs,

57. The more it is emboldened.
Oh Terminator, oh Father of the Distributor and Returner,

58. The rod bearing burdens.
You are eternally in tribulations wearing

59. The garb of patience, stripped bare.
A trait in you is to rescue souls from ruin

60. And uncover the clouded.
You have never disliked fate, even if

61. It brought me misery, and have never faulted destiny.
To you belongs the might below which the sword has no effect,

62. Audacity, vigor and sharpness.
And deeds, if we weigh them against promises,

63. We do not find any to match, if you speak.
Guard the kin and God will guard you,

64. Guardian of the people and children.
For steeds do not reach the destination

65. Until they accompany the slow ones.
And wilderness gazelles, if the hunter tends them,

66. Approach to slake their thirst.
And it befits one who bought the freedom of glory,

67. To safeguard the Most High.