أَرنةُ الحُزنِ أَم ذي رَنَة الطَرَبِ

فَقَد أَهاجَ صَداها القَلب في لجب

Is it the bell of sorrow or the chime of joy

That has stirred my heart in the hills?

لِلشام مِن مَصر قَد سارَت هَواتِفُها

بِالنَعي أَو بِالهَنا لَم أَدرِ لا وَأَبي

Messages from Egypt to Syria have flown

With news of grief or glee, I cannot tell

هَل دار عُرسٌ بِها دَقَت بَشائِرُهُ

أَم قامَ يا وَيح قَلبي مَأتَم الحَربِ

Has a wedding taken place to beat its drums?

Or alas, my heart, has the dirge of war begun?

فَأقصد رَبي نَيلَها مُستَعلِماً خَبَراً

وَنادَ عَني كرام الحَيِّ عَن كَثَبِ

I seek my Lord to learn the tidings

And bid the noble kin speak out and clear the mist

قُل ما وَراكُم وَماذا هَبَّ يَشغلكم

وَما لَجمعِكُم في الربع مِن سَبَب

Tell me, what is behind you and why are you distracted?

Why have you gathered in the abode for no cause?

هَل لاحَ بَدرَكُم في الأُفقِ مُنجَلِياً

أَم دَكَ مُحتَجِباً يا قَوم في التُربِ

Has your full moon risen in the horizon brightly?

Or has it set, O people, shrouded in dust?

عَهدي بِهِ بالِغاً عَهدَ التَمام فَما

بالَ المُحلق دَهاهُ اليَوم بِالعَطبِ

My pledge to him was to reach perfection, so why

Is he who was sublime now fallen from grace?

بِاللَهِ أَينَ الفَتى المَحمود أَينَ مَضى

أَينَ اِنثَنى أَينَ أَلقَتهُ يَدُ النوبِ

By God, where is the esteemed youth? Where has he gone?

Where did he fall? Where did the hand of fate cast him?

وَاللَهِ أَني وَقَد ضَجَّ النَعيُّ بِهِ

شرقتُ بِالدَمعِ حَتّى كادَ يُشرِقُ بي

By God, when the news of his death spread

I wept until the east almost shone through me

أَصبَحتُ يا قَوم مَصروعاً لِمَصرَعِهِ

مَيِتاً تَحَرَّكَ في الام مُضطَرِبِ

I have become, O people, a ruin from his ruin

A corpse stirred in agony and restless grief

خُذوا رَشادي فَسكري حَلَّ مَوضِعَهُ

يَأساً وَلُوموا فُؤادي كَيفَ لَم يَذُبِ

Take my sanity, for madness has taken its place

Rebuke my heart for not melting away

وَمَزقوا مَهجَتي إِذ لَستُ أَحفَظَها

مِن بَعدِهِ مَنزِلاً لِلحُزنِ وَالكَربِ

Tear out my vitals, for I cannot protect them

From sorrow and distress after him

لَهفي عَلى ذَلِكَ الغُصن الَّذي قَصفت

صَباهُ في رَوضِهِ الزاهي يَدُ النكبِ

I yearn for the branch which the morning breeze had adorned

In its blooming meadow, then the hand of doom snapped

أَواهُ أَيّ فُؤادٍ غَيرَ مُنكَسِرٍ

وَأَيّ طَرفٍ عَلَيهِ غَير مُنتَحِبِ

What heart is not broken, what eye not crying?

He reached, when he walked, a treasure buried

سَفح المُقَطم فيهِ حازَ حينَ سَرى

كَنزاً ثَوي تَحتَ أَثقالٍ مِن الحجبِ

Under mountains of veil on Al-Muqattam's slope

A slope in which the beautiful patience was buried

سَفحٌ بِهِ دُفِنَ الصَبر الجَميل مَع

الوَجه الجَميل الَّذي وَلّى وَلَم يَؤُبِ

With the beautiful face that turned and did not return

The drifting clouds did not know his figure,

لَم يَعرِف السُحُب الهِتان عارضها

فَجاءَهُ الدَمع يَغنيهِ عَن السُحُبِ

So tears came to sing his song in place of clouds

O bereft father, grieved

يا أَيُّها الوالِد المَسلوب خاطِرُهُ

بِما جَنى حادِثُ الأَيّام مِن نَوَبِ

By the disasters of fate and its blows

Sorrow has ignited its embers in your heart

قَد أَشعَلَ الحُزن في أَحشاكَ جَمرَتَهُ

وَأَنتَ بَينَ البَرايا بَهجَةُ العَرَبِ

While you are the joy of the Arabs in the wilderness

How can the Nile quench your thirst on its bank

لفَم يَروِكَ النيلُ ظَمأناً بضفتِهِ

حَتّى تَوَهَمتَ إِنَّ النيلَ مِن لَهَبِ

You imagined the Nile was made of flames?

You are the generous one whose gifts overflowed

أَنتَ الكَريمُ الَّذي فاضَت مَواهِبُهُ

فَاطمع الدَهر حَتّى ثارَ لِلسَلبِ

So time grew greedy and rose up to rob them

What can console you, O paragon of virtue

بِما أَعزيكَ يا مَن جَلَّ مَعرِفَةً

وَأَنتَ في العَصر رَبُّ الفهم وَالأَدَبِ

Master of knowledge and literature of the age?

Wait, your branch in the heavenly meadow has appeared

مَهلاً فَغُصنُكَ في رَوض السَماءِ بَدا

مَع المَلائِكِ يَحيي بالغ الأَرَبِ

With angels greeting the most pious of Arabs

And so we in this life for a period

وَهَكذا نَحنُ في الدُنيا إِلى أَمَدٍ

نَسعي وَنَركُض وَالآجالُ في الطَلَبِ

Race and run while death hunts us down

Damn the fickle times that in their fluctuations

تَبّاً لِدَهرٍ خَؤونٍ في تَقَلُبِهِ

يَضيعُ العُمر بَينَ الجَدِّ وَاللعبِ

Squander life between seriousness and play