بانُوا فصارَ الجِسْمُ مِنْ بَعْدِهِمْ

ما تَصْنعُ الشّمْسُ لهُ فَيّا

They are gone, and the body after them

Is naught to the sun overhead;

بأيِّ وَجْهٍ أَتلقّاهُمُ

إذا رَأَوني بعْدَهُمْ حيّا

How shall I encounter them

When they see me living after them?

وما جوابي إِذْ تَقولُ العِدَا

ما صَنَعَ البَيْنُ بِهِ شَيّا

What shall I say to their enemies

When they say the separation hurt me not?

يا خَجْلَتي منهُ ومِنْ قولِهِ

ما ضَرَّكَ الفَقْدُ لَنَا شَيّا

O my shame that he said it,

O my shame that loss of them hurt me not!