حرائق حزن في فؤادي تجدد — Alluah

Fires of sorrow flare anew in my heart,

and streaming tears carve furrows in the cheeks.

And a sigh rises from me in another's wake,

almost carrying my soul up to my nostrils.

I have an eye brimming with tears and a tormented body;

likewise, my heart is scorched by sorrow's blaze.

My ribs nearly split with a sigh,

and my gaze stays sleepless at the edges of the stars.

If the gray dove weeps in coos, then I

shall surely weep for Abu al-Khursayn, without falling into folly.

For after Darwish, the man of letters, son of Salim,

there is no solace, nor consolation or fortitude at his loss.

Indeed, after Darwish my drink is clouded,

and my patience tastes like bitter aloe, and life is more wretched.

Were it not for reverence for the Most Merciful at his burial,

I would have wished that he and I were buried in the grave's niche.

Out of loyal devotion, I washed him with my tears for him.

Oh, would that my heart were his grave, so it would not be distant!

The clan's heralds announced his death while the night was middle-aged,

so I feared my death would be announced on his account while dawn was still beardless.

And who would blame me for him when I voice my sorrow,

and noble patience goes fleeing from him?

There is no burning grief but its heat cools,

yet my heart's burning after him does not cool.

Though he has come to lie buried alone in his grave,

I am surely more alone in my sorrows for him.

My heart gazes upon him, and my eyes weep for him,

and remembrance of him and anguished yearning waste my body away.

I have borne a sorrow heavier than what lies above him:

upon him lie earth that has been heaped and solid rock.

He knew God's oneness while still a babe at the breast,

suckling—do others like him profess God's oneness?

He transmits authentic reports with their chains—and where is anyone

like him at his age, transmitting with chains of authority?

His precocity was like that of Jesus, son of Mary,

who said, 'Shake the trunk,' at the moment of his birth.

If the calamity remains with me after him,

then through it I turn to God, my Lord.

I shall seek reward in his loss, and patience after him.

He is the forerunner driven far away; tomorrow will reveal him to me.

We were created and warned of perishing after our creation,

and in the hereafter we shall meet what we are promised.

O worst of those deluded by a lowly world,

who makes lawful there what is unlawful, and ties knots!

So, heart, be patient: surely your root has passed away,

and your branch has perished—are you immortal?

For if anyone could live on in this world, his life prolonged,

the pure Prophet Muhammad would have lived on in it.

God's blessing be upon him as long as the caravan riders journey far

toward Layla, and as long as the singing doves lament.