بَقيتُ مَعَ الحياةِ وماتَ شَعْري

بَقيتُ مَعَ الحياةِ وماتَ شَعْري

بشيبي فالقذالُ به يُنقّى

بشيبي فالقذالُ به يُنقّى

I lived on, while my hair died

I remained with life while my poetry died

Through my graying; the back of my head is cleansed by it.

With my gray hair, disgrace purifies it

فشَعري لا يُكفَّنُ في خضابٍ

فشَعري لا يُكفَّنُ في خضابٍ

ولا ينفكّ للأنظار مُلْقى

ولا ينفكّ للأنظار مُلْقى

So my hair is not shrouded in dye,

So my poetry is not shrouded in dye

And remains laid out before all eyes.

Nor is it exposed to gazes

وَتَركُكَ مَنْ شَجاكَ الموتُ منه

وَتَركُكَ مَنْ شَجاكَ الموتُ منه

بِلا كَفَنٍ لِحُزْنٍ فيكَ أَبْقى

بِلا كَفَنٍ لِحُزْنٍ فيكَ أَبْقى

And leaving the one whose death has grieved you

And he whom death took from you

Without a shroud makes sorrow last longer within you.

Left you without a shroud, with sorrow remaining in you

فَلا تَخضِبْ مَشيبَكَ لِلغَواني

فَلا تَخضِبْ مَشيبَكَ لِلغَواني

فَتَغنى عَنهُ ناعِمَةً وتَشقى

فَتَغنى عَنهُ ناعِمَةً وتَشقى

So do not dye your gray hair for beautiful women:

So do not dye your gray hair to please the vain

She has no need of it, living at ease, while you suffer.

And then sing happily while suffering miserably

فشاهدُ زورِ خَضْبكَ لَيس يُعْطى

فشاهدُ زورِ خَضْبكَ لَيس يُعْطى

بِباطِلِهِ مِنَ الغاداتِ حقّا

بِباطِلِهِ مِنَ الغاداتِ حقّا

For your dye's false witness is not granted

For the witness of your fake dye is not given

Any right from the maidens through its falsehood.

With its falsehood, truth from the youth

فَلا تَهوَ الفتاةَ وأنْتَ شيخٌ

فَلا تَهوَ الفتاةَ وأنْتَ شيخٌ

فأبعدُ وَصْلِها مِنْ صَيْدِ عَنْقا

فأبعدُ وَصْلِها مِنْ صَيْدِ عَنْقا

So do not love a maiden when you are an old man:

So do not desire the young woman while you are an old man

For union with her is farther out of reach than capturing the ʿAnqā.

For attaining her is far from capturing a neck