يا مالىءَ العَينِ نوراً وَالفُؤادِ هوىً
وَالبَيتِ أُنساً تَمَهَّل أَيُّها القَمَرُ
O you who fill the eye with light and the heart with love,
and the home with companionship—tarry, O moon!
لا تُخلِ أُفقَكَ يَخلُفكَ الظَلامُ به
وَالزَم مكانَك لا يَحلُل به الكَدَرُ
Do not leave your horizon empty, lest darkness replace you there;
stay where you are, lest sorrow settle there.
في الحيِّ قَلبانِ باتا يا نَعيمَهما
وَفيهما إذ قَضَيتَ النارُ تَستَعِرُ
In the neighborhood two hearts spent the night—oh, the bliss they shared!
And now that you have died, a fire blazes within them both.
وَأَعيُنٌ أَربَعٌ تبكى عَلَيكَ أَسىً
وَمن بُكاءِ الثَكالى السَيلُ وَالمَطَرُ
Four eyes weep for you in grief,
and from the weeping of the bereaved come the torrent and the rain.
قد كنتَ رَيحانَةً في البَيتِ واحدَةً
يَروحُ فيه وَيَغدو نَفحُها العَطِرُ
You were the home's one sprig of sweet basil,
whose fragrant breath wafted through it evening and morning.
فَارحَل تُشَيِّعُكَ الأَرواحُ جازِعَةً
في ذِمَّةِ القَبر بعدَ اللَهِ يا عُمَرُ
Go, then, as grief-stricken souls escort you
into the grave's keeping, after God's, O ʿUmar.
Sol 5.6