مَاتَ الْحَفِيظُ فَمَنْ يَحْفَظُ مَنْ عَاشَا

مِنَّا إِذَا لُبُّهُ مِنْ الْجَوَى طَاشَا

Al-Hafiz has died, so who will guard those who live on

Among us, when their minds become unhinged by burning grief?

فَاتَ الْحَفِيظُ امْرَأً قَدْ كَانَ يَطْلُبُهُ

لِسَقْيِ رَوْضِ مُنىً مَا زَالَ مِعْطَاشَا

Al-Hafiz has passed away from a man who had sought him,

To water a garden of hopes that remained ever thirsty.

مَاتَ الْحَفِيظُ فَظَلَّ الْمَجْدُ مُخْتَبَلاً

وَأُرْعِشَتْ كَبِدُ الْعَلْيَاءِ ِرْعَاشَا

Al-Hafiz has died, leaving glory hobbled and deranged,

And the heart of eminence was struck with a violent trembling.

مَاتَ الْحَفِيظُ وَكَانَ الْعَيْشُ مِنْهُ سَنىً

فَأَغْطَشَتْ عَيْشَنَا الأَنْكَادُ إِغْطَاشَا

Al-Hafiz has died, and through him life was a radiant light;

So now miseries have thoroughly plunged our existence into darkness.

وَأَبْطَشَتْ بِالنُّهَى أَيْدِي النَّوَى بُتِكَتْ

إِنَّ النَّوَى كَانَ بِالأَلْبَابِ بَطَّاشَا

The hands of parting have violently seized our minds—may they be severed!

For parting has always been a ruthless tyrant to men's intellects.

كَانَتْ بِطَلْعَتِهِ الأَيَّامُ تُؤْنِسُنَا

فَأَبْدَلَتْنَا مِنَ الإِينَاسِ إِيحَاشَا

Through his countenance, the days used to bring us joyful companionship,

But they have replaced our solace with a desolate gloom.

وَأَلْبَسَتْنَا وَكَانَ الزَّهْوَ مَلْبَسُنَا

حُزْناً يَهِيجُ لَنَا مَبْكىً وَإِجْهَاشَا

And they have clothed us—when pride used to be our garment—

In a sorrow that provokes within us weeping and sobbing.

يَا بَدْرَ مَجْدٍ لَوْ أَنَّ اللهَ أَنْسَأَهُ

مَا أَدْهَشَتْنَا صُرُوفُ الدَّهْرِ إِدْهَاشَا

O full moon of glory! If only God had delayed his end,

The changing fortunes of time would not have so bewildered us.

حَتَّى جَهِلْنَا مُصَاباً لاَ نَظِيرَ لَهُ

جَاشَ عَلَيْنَا شُرُودَ الْوَحْدِ فَانْحَاشَا

Until we were rendered senseless by an unparalleled tragedy,

As the wildness of solitude surged upon us and corralled us.

قَدْ جَلَّ فَقْدُكَ أَنْ يُبْقِيَ مِنْ خَلَدٍ

إِذْ جَلَّ قَدْرُكَ أَنْ تَرْضَى بِمَنْ عَاشَا

Your loss is too magnificent to leave any mind intact,

Just as your worth was too great to be content with those who remained alive.

وَجَلَّ فَخْرُكَ أَنْ يُدْرَِى فَنُحْصِيَهُ

حَاشَا لِفَخْرِكَ مِنْ إِحْصَائِنَا حَاشَا

And your pride is too exalted to be fully known and counted;

Far be it for your glory to be reduced to our tallying, far be it!

فَمَا عَرَفْنَاكَ إِلاَّ بِالذِي شَهِدَتْ

بِهِ الْمَزَايَا وَفَضْلٌ كَانَ جَيَّاشَا

For we knew you only through what was witnessed

By your virtues, and a bounty that was endlessly overflowing.

وَمَا رَأَيْنَاكَ إِلاَّ مِثْلَ رُؤْيَتِنَا

شَمْسَ الظَّهِيرَةِ إِذْ مَا نُورُهَا جَاشَا

And we saw you as nothing less than our vision

Of the midday sun, when its light violently bursts forth.

وَمَا شَهِدْنَاكَ إِلاَّ بِالْبَصَائِرِ لاَ

بِبَصَرٍ يُدْرِكُ الأَخْيَارَ أَوْبَاشَا

And we witnessed you only with our inner sights, not

With ordinary eyes that perceive the noble as common rabble.

خَمَّشْتُ بَعْدَكَ وَجْهَ الْمَنْعِ مِن جَزَعٍ

إِذْ كَانَ مَوْتُكَ وَجْهَ الصَّبْرِ خَمَّاشَا

After you, out of anguish, I clawed at the face of my restraint,

For your death was a fierce claw upon the face of patience.

أَفْرَخْتُ مَا بَاضَ مِنْ غَمِّي وَقَدْ مَلَأَتْ

عِقْبَانُهُ مِنْ ذُرَى الأَحْشَاءِ إِعْشَاشَا

I hatched the eggs that my sorrow had laid, whose eagles

Have thoroughly built their nests in the summits of my core.

بِالْبَوْحِ بِالنَّوْحِ تَرْوِيحاً عَلَى شَجَنٍ

قَدْ أَفْحَشَتْ نَارُهُ فِي الْقَلْبِ إِفْحَاشَا

By revealing my wailing, seeking relief for an anguish

Whose fire has wreaked devastating havoc within my heart,

مُعْتَصِماً بِبَقَايَا الصَّبْرِ مِنْ كَمَدٍ

أَوْدَى بِمُعْظَمِهِ إِذِ الْحَشَا حَاشَا

Clinging fast to the remnants of patience against a grief

That ruined most of it, as my heart recoiled in defense.

فَالْمَرْءُ سَهْمٌ وَذَاكَ السَّهْمُ حِلْيَتُهُ

بِأَنْ يُرَى بِخَوَافِي الصَّبْرِ مُرْتَاشَا

For man is but an arrow, and that arrow's true adornment

Is to be seen fletched with the hidden feathers of endurance.

فَإِنْ رَمَتْهُ اللَّيَالِي وَهْيَ رَامِيَةٌ

لَمْ يُلْفَ عَنْ هَدَفِ التَّأْيِيدِ طَيَّاشَا

So if the nights shoot him—and they are always shooting—

He will not be found veering wildly from the target of divine support.

أَمَّا الذِي سَوْفَ أُهْدِيهِ إِلَى جَدَثٍ

حَلَلْتَهُ تُنْعِشُ الأَمْوَاتَ إِنْعَاشَا

As for that which I shall gift to the tomb

You now inhabit, reviving the dead with sweet restoration:

فَنَسَمَاتُ تَحِيَّاتٍ يَغَارُ لَهَا

رَوْضُ الرُّبَى بَاتَ فِيهِ الطَّلُّ رَشَّاشَا

It is the gentle breezes of greetings, evoking the envy

Of the hill's gardens where the morning dew falls in a steady drizzle.