بَكيتُ عَلى الشَبابِ بِدَمعِ عَيني

فَلَم يُغنِ البُكاءُ وَلا النَحيبُ

With tears from my eyes, I wept for my youth

But neither crying nor wailing was of use

فَيا أَسَفا أَسِفتُ عَلى شَبابِ

نَعاهُ الشَيبُ وَالرَأسُ الخَضيبُ

Alas, how I grieved for that youth

Lamented by gray hair and hoary head

عَريتُ مِنَ الشَبابِ وَكانَ غَضّاً

كَما يَعرى مِنَ الوَرَقِ القَضيبُ

I was stripped of my youth while still green

As a twig is stripped of its leaves

فَيا لَيتَ الشَبابَ يَعودُ يَوماً

فَأُخبِرُهُ بِما صَنَعَ المَشيبُ

Oh, if only youth would return one day

So I'd tell it what old age had done