إِنّي أَظُنُّ البِلى لَو كانَ يَفهَمُهُ

صَدَّ البِلى عَن بَقايا وَجهِهِ الحَسَنِ

I think that if decay could understand

It would spare his lovely face that still remains

يا مَوتَةً لَم تَدَع ظَرفاً وَلا أَدَباً

إِلّا حَكَمتِ بِهِ لِلَّحدِ وَالكَفَنِ

O death that left no grace or manners be

But ruled that he to grave and shroud be lain

لِلَّهِ أَلحاظُهُ وَالمَوتُ يَكسِرُها

كَأَنَّ أَجفانَهُ سَكرى مِنَ الوَسَنِ

His glances now for God, though death will mar

Their beauty, drunk with mortal’s bane

يَرُدُّ أَنفاسَهُ كَرهاً وَتَعطِفُها

يَدُ المَنِيَّةِ عَطفَ الريحِ لِلغُصُنِ

His breath returns against its will, the hand

Of death directs it like the wind a bough

يا هَولَ ما أَبصَرَت عَيني وَما سَمِعَت

أُذني فَلا بَقِيَت عَيني وَلا أُذُني

O horror! What mine eyes saw, what mine ears heard

No more mine eyes or ears remain

لَم يَبقَ مِن بَدَني جُزءٌ عَلِمتُ بِهِ

إِلّا وَقَد حَلَّهُ جُزءٌ مِنَ الحَزَنِ

No part of me but sorrow has interred

In sadness dipped and steeped and slain

كانَ اللَحاقُ بِهِ أَولى وَأَحسَنَ بي

مِن أَن أَعيشَ سَقيمَ الروحِ وَالبَدَنِ

With him to be united was most fit

Than live, my soul and body sick and smit