جَزِعتُ وَلَكِن ما يَرُدُّ لِيَ الجَزَع
وَأَعوَلتُ لَو أَغنى العَويلُ وَلَو نَفَع
I gave way to anguish—but anguish brings nothing back to me.
And I wailed aloud—if only wailing could avail, if only it could help.
أَيا ساكِني الأَجداثِ هَل لي إِلَيكُم
عَلى قُربِكُم مِنّي مَدى الدَهرِ مُطَّلَع
O dwellers in the tombs, is there, for me, a way to you—
despite your nearness to me—through all time, some means of access?
فَوَ اللَهِ ما أَبقى لِيَ الدَهرُ مِنكُمُ
حَبيباً وَلا ذُخراً لَعَمري وَلا وَدَع
For, by God, Time has left me, from among you,
neither beloved nor treasure—by my life!—nor has it spared a soul.
فَأَيَّكُمُ أَبكي بِعَينٍ سَخينَةٍ
وَأَيَّكُمُ أَرثي وَأَيَّكُمُ أَدَع
Which of you, then, shall I weep for with an eye hot with tears?
Which shall I mourn in elegy, and which of you leave unmourned?
أَيا دَهرُ قَد قَلَّلتَني بَعدَ كَثرَةٍ
وَأَوحَشتَني مِن بَعدِ أُنسٍ وَمُجتَمِع
O Time, you have diminished me after such abundance,
and made me desolate after fellowship and gathered company.
Sol 5.6