يا قبر محمود لا جازتك غادية — Abdul Ghafar Al Akhras

O grave of Mahmud, may no morning rain cloud pass you by

but water your earth with an unfailing downpour.

Through you I have lost all goodness, every part of it—

O best of those who departed, lost to one who remains.

I have come to hate a life in which I do not see you,

since your death was the death of virtue and generosity.

After you, there is nothing in my life to bring me joy;

life after Mahmud is no life to be praised.

Through your bounty we lived in abundance and ease,

and drank from the wellspring of your hands’ generosity.

We sheltered in your shade whenever Time blazed at noon,

for no shade could match the shade you spread.

I weep for you—and rightly should I weep blood over you,

with tears that furrow channels down my cheek.

You are the one whose virtues are recounted

by witness and witnessed proof drawn from his lofty deeds.

His days were the feast days that I remember;

since he departed, the rising face of the feast has brought me no delight.

After the occupant of this grave, there is no one

from whom good may be hoped or who may be summoned to generosity.

After him I tested every one of the great lords,

and thus, after God, my belief in his uniqueness proved true.

Often my expectations led me toward some desired end,

but my expectations failed, and I did not attain my aim.

After him, no one who hopes has any share of fortune,

nor is a mirage, however it swells, a watering place.

Indeed, I weep for him whenever there is mention

of his radiant days amid my days of darkness.

I weep for a descendant of God’s Messenger, who has left me

through his loss amid unrelieved bitterness and misery.

Would that death, in all it seized and all it spared,

had exchanged a thousand living men for the one we lost.

I condemn an age for a life I cannot praise,

and I cannot praise any life after Mahmud.

At the feast I once congratulated him and sang his praises;

now at the feast I weep for him and compose his elegy.