1. A life whose living is miserable,
And people in it whose hearts are sad.

2. Every day it gives each heart drinks
In which it imagines pleasure, but they are bitter.

3. Hearts were busy with youthful passions
And were not chaste even for a moment when they came of age.

4. Everyone was heedless with wishes and never stopped
Going and coming while death was a gain for him.

5. The earth is nothing but a howling wasteland
Where the black deaths prowl around us growling.

6. Each day it has among us every warner
Calling out to us, hearing yet mute.

7. We awaken each other then slumber again
While our eyelids in the intoxication of frivolity doze.

8. Impregnable fortresses crumbled before it
And could not protect their inhabitants from separation.

9. One whose might was feared became, after a time,
One wept for and pitied when he perished.

10. He was dust made equal beneath an image
That shone for a while, then crumbled.

11. Our loved ones, how sweet is separation between us
When the cord of union must inevitably be severed!

12. We enjoyed the sweetness of union on earth for a time,
Yet nothing corrupts union like parting.

13. Greetings to a grave in whose soil rests
A beloved, to whom from afar I bid peace.

14. It would not have helped had he drawn near, with
An impenetrable barrier of burial soil covering him.

15. If my eyes do not behold his tomb, still
My heart there drops blood for him.

16. My tears have not dried since he left, though they
Adorn the green plants when they pour down.

17. The announcer announced his death, so every ear
Hears words, but in the chests are arrows.

18. Men weep for the loss of Prince Muhammad,
Their beards dripping with blood as they mourn.

19. Dear to every eye are tears for him,
And in each heart an ember smoldering.

20. How many breasts, nay hearts, split open for him,
How many faces are wounded for him!

21. When he died in the land of Lebanon, his troops
Nearly perished from anguish and pain.

22. Noble, with a lineage from the House of Raslan
And from himself an elevated, venerated glory.

23. Of his mention time cannot rob him,
And gratitude for him is on every eloquent tongue.

24. O you who passed away in exile from your homeland,
Every exiled heart is desolate and bereaved.

25. Gently, my friend! Without you, patience has no power
When calamity makes even patience collapse.

26. You journeyed away in the prime of youth,
Leaving behind sorrow that destroys youth and makes it decay.

27. And the like of you—who deserves to be mourned after—
Is rare, while the like of you is nonexistent.

28. The rhymes weep in sorrow after your day,
So we fear their scattering when they are composed.

29. The pens eulogize you wherever they flowing
With yearning and shedding copious tears as they write.

30. Between swords and bookcases, anguish,
Between dignity, knowledge, and glory, bereavement.

31. Except—O House of Raslan—show patience for his loss.
That is what nobility requires.

32. When we hand misfortune over once,
And do not benefit from grief, patience is wiser.

33. The decree of the Master has run its course as He willed,
Resignation in sorrow is equal before Him.

34. We have no hope of attaining what is gone;
What we desire is what does not profit.

35. What cannot be avoided if deferred
Is easier for him, while it is brought forward.

36. The difference in the two cases is but a fleeting
Moment, while the decree is inescapable.