ما لِقَلبي مُقَسَّم الأَفكارِ
وَكَأن قَد حُشِيَ بِجَمرَةِ نارِ
What ails my heart, its thoughts divided,
as though it had been packed with a burning ember?
قَد دَهَتني مِن الزَمانِ خُطوبٌ
ضاقَ عَن حَملِها جَميلُ اِصطِباري
Calamities of time have struck me
that my noble patience could not bear.
دَمعُ عَيني لِفَقدِ حَيّانَ وَحَيّا
نَ وَحيّانَ وَالنُضارَينِ جارِ
My eye’s tears for the loss of Hayyan and Hayyā—
—n, another Hayyan, and the two Naḍrs still flow.
أَتُراها مِن الغَمامِ اِستمِدَّت
أَو أُمِدَّت مِن زاخِراتِ البِحارِ
Did they draw their waters from the clouds,
or were they fed by the brimming seas?
خَمسَةٌ تُشرِقُ المَنازِلُ مِنهُم
أُدرِجوا تَحتَ ظُلمةِ الأَحجارِ
Five through whom their homes once shone
have been laid beneath the darkness of stones.
شَغِفَت بِالقُرآنِ وَالنَحوِ وَالخَطِّ
وَفاقَت بِهِ جَميع العذارِ
She was devoted to the Qur’an, grammar, and calligraphy,
and in calligraphy surpassed all maidens.
وَاعتَنَت بِالحَديثِ سَمعاً وَكَتباً
فَرَوَت جُملةً مِن الآثارِ
She cultivated Hadith through listening and transcription,
and transmitted a body of traditions:
مُسند الدارِمي وَمُسنَدَ عَبدٍ
وَالصَحيحينِ مُسلِماً وَالبُخاري
the Musnad of al-Dārimī and the Musnad of ʿAbd,
and the two Ṣaḥīḥs—Muslim and al-Bukhārī—
وَالنِسائي وَمُعجمَ الطَبَراني
ثَم نصفا مِلمُعجمِ الكُبّارِ
and al-Nasāʾī and al-Ṭabarānī’s Compendium,
then half of the Compendium of the great masters.
وَلها رِحلَةٌ لِمَكَّةَ فيها
سَمِعَت مِن شُيوخِنا الأَبرارِ
She also journeyed to Mecca, where
she heard from our righteous shaykhs.
خَرَّجَت أَربَعينَ عَن أَربَعينَ اك
تَتَبَتها عَن سادَةٍ أَحبارِ
She compiled forty reports from forty teachers,
having written them down from eminent learned masters.
وَهيَ في سُقمِ مَوتِها أَسمَعَتنا
وَأَجازَت جَمعاً مِن الخضّارِ
Even in her fatal illness, she recited them for us to hear
and granted authorization to a company of those present.
ثُمَ راحَت لَمّا قَضى اللَهُ فيها
بِثَناءٍ وَطَيِّب التَذكارِ
Then she departed when God decreed her end,
amid praise and fragrant remembrance.
وَدَهاني مِن بَعدِ ذَلِكَ فَقدِي
أُمَّ حَيّانَ خِيرَةَ الأَخيارِ
After that I was stricken by my loss of
Umm Hayyan, the choicest of the good.
كانَت أُنسِي في وَحدَتي وَاغتِرابي
وَمَنامي وَيَقظَتي وَسِفاري
She was my solace in loneliness and exile,
in sleep and waking, and on my journeys;
وَنَديمي في رِحلَتي وَمُقامي
وَزَميلي في حُجَّتي وَاعتِماري
my intimate companion in travel and at home,
and my fellow pilgrim in Hajj and ʿumrah.
كُنتُ أَرجو بِأَن تَعيشَ وَتَبقى
حينَ سُقمي تَدورُ بِي وَتُداري
I had hoped that she would live and remain,
attending me gently whenever I fell ill.
لَم تَكُن زَوجَةً وَلَكن كَأُمٍ
وَأَنا كَابنِها صَغيرُ الصِغارِ
She was not merely a wife, but like a mother,
while I was like her son, the littlest of little ones.
كانَت الروحَ بَينَ جَنبيَّ راحَت
فَحَياتي صارَت كَثَوب مُعارِ
She was the soul within my breast; now she is gone,
and my life has become like a borrowed robe.
دَعَت اللَهَ أَن تَموتَ سَريعاً
في حَياتي في عِزَّةٍ وَاستِتارِ
She prayed to God that she might die swiftly,
during my lifetime, in dignity and seclusion.
فَأَجابَ الإِلهُ مِنها دُعاءً
وقَضَت نَحبَها لِدارِ القَرارِ
So God answered her prayer,
and she met her death, bound for the eternal abode.
فَسَقى اللَهُ قَبرَها غَيرَ عاثٍ
وَحَباها بِدِيمَةٍ مِدرارِ
May God water her grave with rain that never ravages
and bestow upon her a steady, copious downpour.
Sol 5.6