نعد أنفاسه ونحسبها

والليل فيه الظلام يلتطم

We count his breaths and tally them

As the night with darkness collides

إذا خروج الحياة أجهده

تساقطت عن جبينه الديم

If life's departure exhausts him

Blood trickles down from his temples

صدرٌ كصدر الخضم مضطرب

جحافل الموت فيه تزدحم

A chest as restless as the tide

Death's legions within it reside

إن قام ملنا له بمسمعنا

أو نام خفت بوطئنا القدم

Were he to rise, heeding our call

Or sleep, hushed by our soft tread

يرتاع من طول نومه الأمل

ويشتكيه الرجاء والسأم

Hope starts, fretting his sleep so long

As yearning and ennui take their toll

كأنما الخوف من تردده

خيلٌ لها من رجائنا لجم

Our lingering fear of his silence

Like steeds our hopes cannot stem

خلناه قد مات وهو في سنة

ونائم الجفن وهو مخترم

We left him, dead, in his prime

Asleep, though aged and eyes dim

قد قلصت ثغره منيته

كأنه للحمام يبتسم

His smile in death seems to say

He smiles like a dove about to fly