وَطائِرَةٍ تَتَبَّعُها المَنايا

عَلى آثارِها زَجِلُ الجَناحِ

A plane, pursued by doom,

And many a bird is trailed by destined dooms,

Its trail a winged dirge.

While close behind, a humming wing pursues;

كَأَنَّ الريشَ مِنهُ في سِهامٍ

عَلى جَسَدٍ تَجَسَّمَ مِن رِياحِ

Its feathers like arrows

As though its feathers fletched a flight of arrows,

Piercing a body formed of wind.

Upon a body fashioned out of wind;

كَأَنَّ رُؤوسَ أَقلامٍ غِلاظٍ

مُسِحنَ بِريشِ جُؤجُؤَةِ الصِحاحِ

Its beak a pen thick-nibbed

As if the very tips of thick reed pens

Inked in the blood of battle.

Were wiped against the breast-plumes of the strong;

فَأَقعَصَها بِحُجنٍ تَحتَ صُفرٍ

لَها فِعلُ الأَسِنَّةِ وَالصِفاحِ

It pecks under saffron skies,

He struck it dead with hooks beneath the yellow,

Speaking the tongue of swords.

That deal the blows of spearheads and of swords;

فَقُلتُ لِكُلِّ حَيٍّ يَومُ مَوتٍ

وَإِن حَرَصَ النُفوسُ عَلى الفَلاحِ

To all who live I say: death comes for you,

Then I said: 'For every life there is a day of death,

Though your souls grasp at salvation.

However much the soul may strive to thrive.'