في حرِ أمّ الدهر أيضاً

حين صار الرأسُ فيضا

Even in the heat of time's noon

Deep in the cursed womb of Time as well,

When my hair turned white

When the head became a flooding wash of white,

ذهبَ المحُّ فأبقى الد

دهرُ غِرقئا وقَيضا

Love left, leaving nostalgia

The yolk has vanished, and Fate has left behind

Time passed steeped in yearning

Only a membrane and a hollow shell.

لن يعود العرفُ أو تر

خم تحت الفيلِ بَيضا

The meadow will not return, nor will

The rooster’s crest returns not, nor will she

The white tent beneath the howdah lean

Brood on her eggs beneath the elephant.

فلعلّ اللَه أن يج

عَلَ للمعروفِ حوضا

But perhaps God will appoint

Perhaps the Lord may yet ordain and make

For kindness a clear pond

A reservoir where kindness may reside.