يا قَمَراً أَبرَزَهُ مَأتَمٌ

يَندُبُ شَجواً بَينَ أَترابِ

O moon brought forth by a funeral gathering,

Lamenting in sorrow amongst his peers;

يَبكي فَيَذري الدُرَّ مِن نَرجِسٍ

وَيَلطُمُ الوَردَ بُعُنّابِ

He weeps, shedding pearls from narcissus eyes,

And strikes the rose of his cheeks with fingertips of jujube.

لا تَبكِ مَيتاً حَلَّ في حُفرَةٍ

وَاِبكِ قَتيلاً لَكَ بِالبابِ

Do not weep for the dead man settled in his grave,

But weep for the one slain by you, standing at your door.

أَبرَزَهُ المَأتَمُ لي كارِهاً

بِرُغمِ داياتٍ وَحُجّابِ

The mourning rite revealed him to me against their will,

In spite of nursemaids and chamberlains;

لا زالَ مَوتاً دَأبُ أَحبابِهِ

وَلَم تَزَل رُؤيَتُهُ دابي

May death never cease to be the habit of his kin,

So that the sight of him may never cease to be my habit.