أَما وَشَبابٌ قَد تَرامَت بِهِ النَوى

فَأَرسَلتُ في أَعقابِهِ نَظرَةً عَبرى

While youth passed by with its goals,

I looked back with a tearful gaze.

لَقَد رَكِبَت ظَهرَ السُرى بي نَومَةٌ

فَأَصبَحتُ في أَرضٍ وَقَد بِتُّ في أُخرى

Sleep rode the saddlebags of travel;

I woke up in one land though I'd slept in another.

أُقَلِّبُ جَفناً لا يَجِفُّ فَكُلَّما

تَأَوَّهتُ مِن شَكوى تَأَلَّمَت عَن شُكرى

I roll an eyelid that does not dry, so whenever

I sigh in complaint, I stop being thankful.

فَها أَنا لا نَفسٌ يَخِفُّ بِها المُنى

فَتَلهو وَلا سَمَعٌ تَطيرُ بِهِ بُشرى

Or hearing that can be delighted by good news.

Whenever a dove's cooing troubles me

وَإِنّي إِذا ما شاقَني لِحَمامَةٍ

رَنينٌ وَهَزَّتني لِبارِقَةٍ ذِكرى

Or a flash of lightning shakes me with memories,

I collect water and fire in my agony -

لَأَجمَعُ بَينَ الماءِ وَالنارِ لَوعَةً

فَمِن مُقلَةٍ رَيّا وَمِن كَبِدٍ هَرّى

Tears from an aching eyelid and passion from my innermost heart.

The topic of old age has lessened on the path to doom,

وَقَد خَفَّ خَطبُ الشَيبِ في جانِبِ الرَدى

فَصارَت بِهِ صُغرى الَّتي كانَتِ الكُبرى

So the lesser now was once the greater.

Whenever poetry mourns youth,

وَلِلشِعرِ عِندي كُلَّما نَدَبَ الصِبا

فَأَبكى مَحَلَّ أَلحَقَ الشِعرَ بِالشِعرى

It makes the place for poetry join the place for poetry.

If only a new talk of newness would flow,

فَلَيتَ حَديثاً لِلحَداثَةِ لَو جَرى

فَأَسلى وَطَيفاً لِلشَبيبَةِ لَو أَسرى

Or a specter of youth would steal away.