غُبِقنا الأَذى وَالجاشِرِيَّةُ هَمُّنا

وَنادى ظَلامٌ لا سَبيلَ إِلى الجَشرِ

We were overcome with harm and fear consumed us,

And darkness called with no way to salvation.

أَتَكتُبُ سَطراً لَيسَ فيهِ تَخَوُّفٌ

لِرَبِّكَ ما أَولى بَنانَكَ بِالأَشرِ

Shall I write a line with no apprehension

Of your Lord? How apt are your fingers for harm!

وَإِن بُتِكَت عَشرٌ فَمِن بَعدِ ما جَنَت

بِكُلِّ فَسيطٍ قُضَّ أَكثَرَ مِن عَشرِ

And if ten are appointed, after what they reaped,

More than ten are destined for each harvest.

وَما زالَتِ الأَيّامُ يُبشُرُ صَرفُها

أَديمِيَ حَتّى ما يَحِسُّ مِنَ البَشرِ

The days have not ceased to portend in their circuit

Eternal woe, so that I feel no gladness.

وَحِبرِيَ أَودى بِالمَدى فَكَأَنَّهُ

جَديدٌ مُدىً أَنحَت لِحِبرِكَ بِالقَشرِ

And my ink has wrought havoc on the page, as though

It were new, carving your ink's hull with peel.

وَأَعجَبُ ما تَخشاهُ دَعوَةُ هاتِفٍ

أَتَيتُم فَهُبّوا يانِيامُ إِلى الحَشرِ

Most wondrous is the call of a summoner I fear:

"You have come, so rally, O slumbering, to the assembly."

فَيا لَيتَنا عِشنا حَياةً بِلا رَدىً

يَدَ الدَهرِ أَو مُتنا مَماتاً بِلا نَشرِ

Would that we had lived a life without misery,

By the hand of fate, or died a death without agony.