أَلا صُمَّتِ الأَجداثُ عَنّي فَلَم تُجِب

وَلَم يُغنِني أَنّي رَفَعتُ لَها صَوتي

Alas! The graves were deaf to my cries; they did not answer.

It did not help me to raise my voice to them.

فَيا عَجَباً لي كَيفَ آنَسُ بِالمُنى

وَغايَةُ ما أَدرَكتُ مِنها إِلى الفَوتِ

How strange I find comfort in desires,

When the most I can grasp of them is loss.

وَهَل مِن سُرورٍ أَو أَمانٍ لِعاقِلٍ

وَمَفضى عُبورِ العابِرينَ إِلى المَوتِ

Can the reasonable find any joy or safety

When the fate of all travelers is death?