أُضيعُ مِنَ العُمرِ ما في يَدي

وَأَطلُبُ ما لَيسَ لي في يَدِ

I squander whatever of life is in my hand,

and seek what is not in my hand.

أَرى الأَمسَ قَد فاتَني رَدُّهُ

وَلَستُ عَلى ثِقَةٍ مِن غَدِ

I see that yesterday has passed me by, beyond recall,

and I have no assurance of tomorrow.

وَإِنّي لَأَجري إِلى غايَةٍ

وَأَستَقبِلُ المَوتَ مِن مَولِدي

Indeed, I am running toward a final end,

and I have faced death ever since my birth.

وَما زِلتُ في طَبَقاتِ الرَدى

أَصَعَّدُ في مَصعَدٍ مَصعَدِ

Still I pass through the layered ranks of death,

climbing ascent after ascent.

فَيوشِكُ عَمّا قَليلٍ أَكو

نُ مِنهُنَّ في البَرزَخِ الأَبعَدِ

And soon—after only a little while—I shall

be among them, in the remotest Barzakh.