أَلا لَيتَ أُمّي لَم تَلِدني سَوِيَّةً

وَكُنتُ تُراباً بَينَ أَيدي القَوابِلِ

Alas, would that my mother had not given birth to me perfectly formed,

And that I were but dust amid the hands of midwives.

وَخَرَّت عَلى الأَرضِ السَماءُ فَطَبَّقَت

وَماتَ جَميعاً كُلُّ حافٍ وَناعِلِ

Would that the sky might cave upon the earth and flatten it,

And that all things, even fates, might perish.

غَداةَ غَدا ناعٍ لِصَخرٍ فَراعَني

وَأَورَثَني حُزناً طَويلَ البَلابِلِ

One morn a stone-carrier sang out, startling me,

And saddening me with a long, drawn-out melody,

فَقُلتُ لَهُ ماذا تَقولُ فَقالَ لي

نَعى ما اِبنِ عَمروٍ أَثكَلَتهُ هَوابِلي

I asked him, “What do you say?” And he said to me,

“I lament what the son of ‘Amr – misfortunes consumed him.”

فَأَصبَحتُ لا أَلتَذُّ بَعدَكَ نِعمَةً

حَياتي وَلا أَبكي لِدَعوَةِ ثاكِلِ

So now, after you, I take no joy in life’s pleasures,

Nor in living, nor in the call of a reproacher.

فَشَأنَ المَنايا بِالأَقارِبِ بَعدَهُ

لِتُعلِل عَلَيهِم عَلَّةٌ بَعدَ ناهِلِ

It is the way of death to take away loved ones,

And so bring illness upon them, after one who gives to drink.