اللَيلُ شَيبٌ وَالنَهارُ كِلاهُما

اللَيلُ شَيبٌ وَالنَهارُ كِلاهُما

رَأسي بِكَثرَةِ ما تَدورُ رَحاهُما

رَأسي بِكَثرَةِ ما تَدورُ رَحاهُما

Night and day—both of them—have grayed

my head by the frequent turning of their millstone.

فَأَنا النَذيرُ لِذي الشَبيبَةِ مِنهُما

فَأَنا النَذيرُ لِذي الشَبيبَةِ مِنهُما

لا يَأمَنَنَّهُما فَإِنَّهُما هُما

لا يَأمَنَنَّهُما فَإِنَّهُما هُما

Thus I warn whoever possesses youth against them both:

let him never feel safe from them—for it is they

يَتَناهَبانِ نُفوسَنا وِدِماءَنا

يَتَناهَبانِ نُفوسَنا وِدِماءَنا

وَلُحومَنا عَمداً وَنَحنُ نَراهُما

وَلُحومَنا عَمداً وَنَحنُ نَراهُما

who vie with one another to plunder our souls and blood,

and our flesh, deliberately, while we watch them both.

وَالشَيبُ إِحدى الميتَتَينِ تَقَدَّمَت

وَالشَيبُ إِحدى الميتَتَينِ تَقَدَّمَت

أولاهُما وَتَأَخَّرَت أُخراهُما

أولاهُما وَتَأَخَّرَت أُخراهُما

Gray hair is one of two deaths; first to come was

the earlier one, while the latter has lingered behind.

وَكَأَنَّ مَن حَلَّت بِهِ صُغراهُما

وَكَأَنَّ مَن حَلَّت بِهِ صُغراهُما

يَوماً فَقَد حَلَّت بِهِ كُبراهُما

يَوماً فَقَد حَلَّت بِهِ كُبراهُما

It is as though whoever is overtaken by the lesser of the two

one day has already been overtaken by the greater.