قُل لِأَبي مالِكٍ فَتى مُضَرِ

مَقالَ لا مُفحَمٍ وَلا حَصِرِ

Say to Abu Malik, a young man of Mudar,

Say to Abu Malik, that noble youth of Mudar,

A saying with no rebuttal or limit,

With the words of one neither silenced nor stammering,

جِئناكَ في مَيّتٍ تُكَفِّنُهُ

لَيسَ مِنَ الجِنِّ لا وَلا البَشَرِ

We came to you with a dead man to shroud

We come to you regarding a corpse for you to shroud,

Who is neither jinn nor human,

Who is neither of the Jinn nor of humankind,

لَكِنَّ مَيتاً عِظامُهُ خَزَفٌ

وَاللَحمُ قارٌ وَالروحُ مِن عَكَرِ

But a dead man whose bones are pottery

But a dead thing whose bones are made of pottery,

Whose flesh is decayed and whose soul reeks,

Whose flesh is pitch, and whose soul is of the dregs,

لَيسَ لَنا ما بِهِ نُكَفِّنُهُ

فَكَفِّنِ المَيتَ يا أَخا مُضَرِ

We have nothing with which to shroud him

We possess nothing with which to provide his shroud,

So shroud the dead man, O brother of Mudar

So shroud the dead one, O brother of Mudar,

وَاِعجِل فَقَد ماتَ فَاِعلَمَنَّ ضُحىً

وَنَحنُ مِن مَوتِهِ عَلى حَذَرِ

And hurry for he died at dawn, let it be known

And hasten, for he died—know this—at the forenoon,

And we are wary of his death,

And we are filled with dread at his passing,

يا لَكَ مَيتاً صَلاةُ شيعَتِهِ

عَزفٌ عَلَيهِ وَالنَقرُ بِالوَتَرِ

Oh what a dead man you have, whose mourners’ prayer

Oh, what a corpse! The prayer of his devotees

Is musical strings and plucking of strings over him

Is the playing of music and the plucking of strings.