مَضى مِن شَبابِكَ ما قَد مَضى

فَلا تُكثِرَنَّ عَلَيكَ البُكا

What has passed of your youth has passed

So do not cry overmuch for what's gone by

وَشَعَّلَ شَيبُكَ مِصباحَهُ

وَلَستَ الرَشيدَ أَما قَد تَرى

And your gray hair has lit its lantern

You're no longer young, can't you see?