لا تَطلُبَن أَثَراً بِعَين

فَالشَيبُ إِحدى المَيتَتَين

Never ask that an eye leave its mark—

for gray hair is one of the two deaths.

أَبدى مَقابِحَ كُلِّ شَين

وَمَحا مَحاسِنَ كُلِّ زَين

It lays bare the ugliness of every flaw

and erases the beauty of every grace.

فَإِذا رَأَتكَ الغانِيا

تُ رَأَينَ مِنكَ غُرابَ بَين

When lovely women see you,

they see in you the crow of parting.

وَلَرُبَّما نافَسنَ في

كَ وَكُنَّ طَوعاً لِليَدَين

Yet often they once competed for

you, and were pliant in your hands,

أَيّامَ عَمَّمَكَ الشَبا

بُ وَأَنتَ سَهلُ العارِضَين

in days when youth wrapped you in its turban

and both your cheeks were smooth.

حَتّى إِذا نَزَلَ المَشي

بُ وَصِرتَ بَينَ عِمامَتَين

Until, when grayness descended

and you stood between two turbans—

سَوداءَ حالِكَةٍ وَبَي

ضاءِ المَناشِرِ كَاللُجَين

one pitch-black, and the other—

white wherever it spread, like silver—

مَزَجَ الصُدودُ وِصالَهُن

نَ فَكُنَّ أَمراً بَينَ بَين

their coldness mingled with their intimacy,

and they became something in between.

وَصَبرنَ ما صَبر السَوا

دُ عَلى مُصانَعَةٍ وَمَين

They endured while the blackness

endured—through pretense and lies—

حَتّى إِذا شَمِلَ المَشي

بُ فَجازَ قُطرَ الجانِبَين

until grayness spread all over

and crossed the breadth of both sides.

قَفَّين شَرَّ قَفِيَّةٍ

وَأَخَذنَ مِنكَ الأَطيَبَين

Then they turned away in the worst of turnings

and took from you the two sweetest things.

فَاِقنَ الحَياءَ وَسَلِّ نَف

سَكَ أَو فَنادِ الفَرقَدَين

So keep your modesty and console

yourself—or call out to the two Farqads.

وَلَئِن أَصابَتكَ الخُطو

بُ بِكُلِّ مَكروهٍ وَشين

And though calamities strike

you with every affliction and disgrace,

فَلَقَد أَمِنتَ بِأَن يُصي

بَكَ ناظِرٌ أَبَداً بِعَين

you are at least safe from ever being struck—

by any beholder’s evil eye.