أَيا قَبرُ هَذا الضَيفُ آمالُ أُمَّةٍ

فَكَبِّر وَهَلِّل وَاِلقَ ضَيفَكَ جاثِيا

O grave, this guest of yours is the hope of a nation.

Proclaim God’s greatness and oneness, and, kneeling, clasp your guest’s hand.

عَزيزٌ عَلَينا أَن نَرى فيكَ مُصطَفى

شَهيدَ العُلا في زَهرَةِ العُمرِ ذاوِيا

It pains us dearly to see Mustafa within you,

a martyr to glory, withering in life’s first bloom.

أَيا قَبرُ لَو أَنّا فَقَدناهُ وَحدَهُ

لَكانَ التَأَسّي مِن جَوى الحُزنِ شافِيا

O grave, if he alone were all that we had lost,

consolation might have healed the heart’s searing grief.

وَلَكِن فَقَدنا كُلَّ شَيءٍ بِفَقدِهِ

وَهَيهاتَ أَن يَأتي بِهِ الدَهرُ ثانِيا

But in losing him, we lost everything;

how far-fetched that Time should ever bring his like again.

فَيا سائِلي أَينَ المُروءَةُ وَالوَفا

وَأَينَ الحِجا وَالرَأيُ وَيحَكَ هاهِيا

O you who ask me, “Where are valor and fidelity?

And where are intellect, sound counsel, and governing judgment?”—There they lie.

هَنيئاً لَهُم فَليَأمَنوا كُلَّ صائِحٍ

فَقَد أُسكِتَ الصَوتُ الَّذي كانَ عالِيا

Good fortune to them; let them feel safe from every voice that cries aloud,

for the voice that once rang high has now been silenced.

وَماتَ الَّذي أَحيا الشُعورَ وَساقَهُ

إِلى المَجدِ فَاِستَحيا النُفوسَ البَوالِيا

Dead is the man who awakened feeling and led it

toward glory, reviving souls worn away by decay.

مَدَحتُكَ لَمّا كُنتَ حَيّاً فَلَم أَجِد

وَإِنّي أُجيدُ اليَومَ فيكَ المَراثِيا

I praised you while you lived, never supposing

that today I would excel in elegies for you.

عَلَيكَ وَإِلّا ما لِذا الحُزنِ شامِلاً

وَفيكَ وَإِلّا ما لِذا الشَعبِ باكِيا

It is for you—else why is grief all-embracing?

And over you—else why are these people weeping?

يَموتُ المُداوي لِلنُفوسِ وَلا يَرى

لِما فيهِ مِن داءِ النُفوسِ مُداوِيا

The healer of souls dies, yet finds no

healer for the sickness within those souls.

وَكُنّا نِياماً حينَما كُنتَ ساهِداً

فَأَسهَدتَنا حُزناً وَأَمسَيتَ غافِيا

We slept while you remained wakeful;

now grief keeps us awake while you have fallen asleep.

شَهيدَ العُلا لا زالَ صَوتُكَ بَينَنا

يَرِنُّ كَما قَد كانَ بِالأَمسِ داوِيا

Martyr to glory, may your voice remain among us,

ringing as it did yesterday, deep and resonant.

يُهيبُ بِنا هَذا بِناءٌ أَقَمتُهُ

فَلا تَهدِموا بِاللَهِ ما كُنتُ بانِيا

It calls to us: “This is an edifice I raised;

by God, do not demolish what I built.”

يَصيحُ بِنا لا تُشعِروا الناسَ أَنَّني

قَضَيتُ وَأَنَّ الحَيَّ قَد باتَ خالِيا

It cries to us: “Do not let the people feel that I

have died and left the living nation desolate.”

يُناشِدُنا بِاللَهِ أَلّا تَفَرَّقوا

وَكونوا رِجالاً لا تَسُرّوا الأَعادِيا

It adjures us by God not to divide,

but to be men and give our enemies no joy.

فَروحِيَ مِن هَذا المَقامِ مُطِلَّةٌ

تُشارِفُكُم عَنّي وَإِن كُنتُ بالِيا

For my spirit looks down from this station,

watching over you in my stead, though I am far away.

فَلا تُحزِنوها بِالخِلافِ فَإِنَّني

أَخافُ عَلَيكُم في الخِلافِ الدَواهِيا

So do not grieve that spirit through dissension, for I

fear for you the calamities that dissension breeds.”

أَجَل أَيُّها الداعي إِلى الخَيرِ إِنَّنا

عَلى العَهدِ ما دُمنا فَنَم أَنتَ هانِيا

Yes, caller to goodness, we

remain faithful to the covenant while we live; sleep in peace.

بِناؤُكَ مَحفوظٌ وَطَيفُكَ ماثِلٌ

وَصَوتُكَ مَسموعٌ وَإِن كُنتَ نائِيا

Your edifice is guarded, and your image remains present;

your voice is heard although you are far away.

عَهِدناكَ لا تَبكي وَتُنكِرُ أَن يُرى

أَخو البَأسِ في بَعضِ المَواطِنِ باكِيا

We knew you never to weep, and to reject the sight of

a man of valor weeping in some circumstances.

فَرَخِّص لَنا اليَومَ البُكاءَ وَفي غَدٍ

تَرانا كَما تَهوى جِبالاً رَواسِيا

So grant us leave to weep today; tomorrow

you will see us as you wish: mountains firmly rooted.

فَيا نيلُ إِن لَم تَجرِ بَعدَ وَفاتِهِ

دَماً أَحمَراً لا كُنتَ يا نيلُ جارِيا

O Nile, if after him you do not flow

blood-red, then cease to flow, O Nile.

وَيا مِصرُ إِن لَم تَحفَظي ذِكرَ عَهدِهِ

إِلى الحَشرِ لا زالَ اِنحِلالُكِ باقِيا

O Egypt, if you do not preserve the memory of his covenant

until the Resurrection, may your dissolution never end.

وَيا أَهلَ مِصرٍ إِن جَهِلتُم مُصابَكُم

ثِقوا أَنَّ نَجمَ السَعدِ قَد غارَ هاوِيا

O people of Egypt, if you do not comprehend your loss,

know that fortune’s star has sunk and fallen.

ثَلاثونَ عاماً بَل ثَلاثونَ دُرَّةً

بِجيدِ اللَيالي ساطِعاتٍ زَواهِيا

Thirty years—rather, thirty pearls

upon the throat of the nights, radiant and gleaming.

سَتَشهَدُ في التاريخِ أَنّكَ لَم تَكُن

فَتىً مُفرَداً بَل كُنتَ جَيشاً مُغازِيا

History will testify that you were not

one man alone, but an army on campaign.