ظلي وَأَنتَ الشَفيعُ إِنّي

يَرحَمُني مالِكُ المُلوكِ

You are my shade and my intercessor—indeed I,

Am granted mercy by the King of Kings.

كَلّا بَلِ المُصطَفى شَفيعي

حَقّاً يَقيناً بِلا شُكوكِ

Nay, rather the Chosen One is my intercessor,

In truth and certainty, devoid of any doubt.

كَبائِري عَنكَ مُبعِداتي

إِن لَم أَنَل رَحمَةَ المَليكِ

My major sins are what keep me far from you,

If I do not attain the mercy of the King.

كَفى بِها موبِقاً وَحَسبي

رَبٌّ تَعالى عَنِ الشَريكِ

They suffice as a destructive force, and it is enough for me

To have a Lord exalted above any partner.

كَلِّم أَباكَ الَّذي يُنادي

وَهوَ مِنَ السُقمِ في نُهوكِ

Speak to your father who calls out to you,

While he is ravaged by the exhaustion of grief.

كادَ يَموتُ اِشفِهِ بِلَفظٍ

مِن فَمِكَ الطَيِّبِ الضَحوكِ

He is near death; heal him with a single utterance

From your sweet, smiling mouth.

كُنتَ شِفائي فَلا شِفاءٌ

إِلّا بِتَأنيبِكَ المحوكِ

You were my cure, so now there is no cure,

Except in your firmly woven reproach.

كلَّ حُسامي وَأَنتَ ناءٍ

فَلَيسَ في الهامِ بِالمَحيكِ

My sword has grown blunt while you are far away,

So it no longer cleaves through the heads.

كَتَبتُ آيات ثُكلِهِ في

خَدّي بِالمَدمَعِ السَفوكِ

I have inscribed the verses of his loss upon

My cheek, using flowing tears as ink.

كَذبتُ لَو كُنتُ ذا وَفاءٍ

تَرَكتُ في طُرقِهِ سُلوكي

I lied; for had I truly been faithful,

I would have abandoned my own path to follow his.

كَم مَعشَرٍ فَضلُهُ عَلَيهِم

فَضلُ رَقيقٍ عَلى رَكيكِ

How many a crowd has he surpassed in merit,

Like the merit of the refined over the weak.

كَلَمحَةِ الطَرفِ مُتَّ يا اِبني

فَآه مِن مَوتِكَ الوَشيكِ

Like the blink of an eye you died, O my son,

So alas for your death that came so soon.

كَأَنَّكَ الشَمسُ في طُلوعٍ

وَفي غُروبٍ وَفي دُلوكِ

As if you were the sun in its rising,

And in its setting, and in its decline.

كَرمت طَبعاً وَطِبت نَقداً

فَأَنتَ كَالعَسجَدِ السَبيكِ

You were noble in nature and pure in essence,

For you are like an ingot of molten gold.

كَأَنَّ عَيني عَلَيكَ أَمسَت

تَنثُرُ دُرّاً مِنَ السُلوكِ

It is as though my eye, weeping for you, has begun

To scatter pearls from a broken string.