أَلَم تَرَ البَدرَ مُصفَرّاً بِهِ مَرَضٌ

كَأَنَّهُ أَنا يا دُنيايَ تَشبيها

Did you not see the moon, yellow with illness

As if to say, "I am like you, oh life!" a simile

صادَتهُ مِنكَ لِحاظٌ في سَماوَتِهِ

فَباتَ في لَوعَةٍ مِنها يُقاسيها

Its beams have been blocked from you by a veil in its sky

So it spent the night suffering, agonized by it

في الأَرضِ مِنها قُلوبُ الناسِ شاكِيَه

وَفي السَماءِ مَلاكُ اللَيلِ يَبكيها

On earth, people's hearts complain about it

And in the sky, the angel of night weeps for it

أَم هَل تَرى نورَهُ كَالدَمعِ مُنسَكِباً

يَهمي عَلى وَجنَةِ الأَزهارِ يَرويها

Or do you see its light spilling like teardrops

Raining down on the garden of flowers, watering it

يَبُثُّ أَحزانَهُ لِلنَجمِ مُمتَثِلاً

وَلِلنُجومِ قُلوبٌ ما تُواسيها

Spreading its sorrows to the star, conforming

While the stars have hearts that cannot console it

فَيا لَهُ مِن شَجٍ قَد راحَ مُشتَكِياً

إِلى شَجٍ مِن هُمومٍ لَيسَ يَدريها

Oh, what a longing that has gone, complaining

To a longing of worries beyond knowing

هذي النُفوسُ إِذا حانَت مَنِيَّتِها

فَفي عُيونِكَ سِحرٌ سَوفَ يُحييها

When these souls meet their demise

In your eyes is magic that will revive them