رأيتُ خضابَ المرء عند مشيبه

حِداداً على شرخ الشبيبة يُلْبَسُ

I saw a man dye his hair when it turned gray

Like mourning clothes worn over youth's ripped seam

وإلا فما يُغري امرءاً بخضابه

أيطمع أن يَخفى شَبابٌ مُدَلَّسُ

Else, why would a man bother to dye his hair

Hoping to conceal sneaked-in grayness, it would seem

وكيف بأن يَخفى المشيبُ لخاضب

وكل ثلاث صبْحُه يتنفّسُ

How could the gray-haired hide that he has dyed

When every third morning his roots breathe free

وهبْه يُوارِي شَيْبَه أين ماؤُهُ

وأين أديمٌ للشبيبة أملسُ

Grant him water to hide his grayness, where is it

Where is the smooth-soft skin of youth to see