عادَيتُ مِرآتي فَآذَنتُها
بِالهَجرِ ماكانَت وَما كُنتُ
I turned against my mirror and gave it notice
Beloved, our mirrors argued long
of abandonment, as long as it exists and I live.
About the way ahead, and what was past;
كانَت تُريني العُمرَ مُستَقبَلاً
وَهي تُريني الفَوتَ مُذ شِبتُ
It used to show me life ahead;
She showed my youth, potential-filled and strong,
now it shows me death, since I turned gray.
Now only loss and failure can she cast.
واعُمُرا نَوحاً لِفِقدانِهِ
سِيّانِ عَندي شِبتُ أَم مُتُّ
Alas for life—a lament for its loss!
Grief flows within me; all the same it seems -
To me, growing gray or dying is all the same.
Whether my youth, or age, or what's between.
Sol 6.1