هل تسمعونَ حفيف أجنحةٍ
في الجوِّ تسرعُ وهيَ ترتقبُ
Do you hear the rustle of wings
In the air, hastening and awaiting?
أَصغوا فتلكمُ روحُ شاعرِنا
فوزي قد انشقَّت لها الحجُبُ
Listen, that is the soul of our poet,
Fawzi, whose veils have been rent.
قد شاقها مرأَى الوفاءِ لذا
هبطَت من العلياءِ ترتقبُ
Seeing loyalty wearied him, so
He descended from on high, awaiting.
ياروح ان نحزَّن عليه فقد
حزن العُلى والفضلُ والأَدبُ
O soul, if we grieve for him, indeed
Grief has filled the exalted, the excellent and cultured.
أُمُّ اللغات اليوم جازعة
تبكي إِبنها الغالي وتنتَحِبُ
The mother of languages today mourns,
Weeping for her dear son, lamenting,
تبكي الثلاثين التي مُلِئَت
كداً كأَن لم يُخلَقِ التعبُ
Weeping for the sublime thirty years
Filled with sorrows, as if toil had not been created.
بلغ المدى فيها وما اكتمَلَت
ما القولُ لو مُدَّت له الحقُبُ
He reached the farthest limit in them, though they were unfinished,
What can be said if spans of time were extended for him?
هل بعد فوزي طائرٌ غَرِدٌ
يشدو فيملأ روحنا الطربُ
After Fawzi, is there a bird that sings
Filling our souls with joy?
هل بعد نابغة القريضِ فتىً
يسمو فتُرهف سمعها الشهبُ
After the genius of verse, is there a youth
Who ascends, so that the stars incline their hearing?
أَسفي على الوادي يذوبُ جوىً
ويكادُ ينضبُ ماؤُهُ العذبُ
I grieve for the valley melting in ardour,
Its sweet water almost exhausted.
العزمُ في الآسادِ ضعضعهُ
حزنٌ به الأكباد تلتهبُ
In the lions determination falters,
Sorrow inflames their livers.
والسحرُ في الأَجفانِ ذوَّبهُ
دمعٌ مع الأحشاءِ ينسكبُ
In the eyelids sleep melts away.
Tears mingle with the entrails, pouring forth.
والروضُ قد خرسَت بلابلهُ
لما استقلَّ البلبلُ الطَربُ
The meadows, their nightingales have fallen silent
Since the nightingale's joy departed.
يا روحَهُ إِن كنتِ سامعة
في الغربِ إِخوانٌ لنا نُجُبُ
O his soul, if you can hear
In the west we have brothers, elites
هجروا الديارَ وهم أَحبَّتها
وتطلَّبوا العلياءَ فاغتربوا
Who left their homes though they loved them
And aspired to the sublime, so they were exiled.
كوني لهم نعمَ الرسولِ فقد
تغنينَ ما لم تغنِّه الكتُبُ
Be a good messenger to them, for you
Can sing what books have not sung.
قولي لهم إِنَّا نشاطرُهم
حَمل الأسى في كل ما نكبوا
Say to them we share with them
The burden of sorrow in all their tribulations.
قولي لهم الشيخ قد وقرت
أَضلاعه الأحزانُ والنِوَبُ
Say to them the Shaykh, sorrows and misfortunes
Have settled in his ribs.
فيشتاق أَبناءً له غَيَباً
هلا درى ابناؤه الغيبُ
He yearns for sons absent from him -
If only his sons knew his longing!
يا روح فوزي إِن بكَيتُ على
فوزي فذاك أَقلَّ ما يجبُ
O Fawzi's soul, if I weep for
Fawzi, that is the least of what is required.
