دَعاكَ المَوْتُ وَهْوَ أَمَرُّ داعي

وكانَ الرَّدُّ خَلْفَكَ صَوْتَ ناعي

Death called you, though calling you was bitterest,

And turning back was but a mourner's muted cries.

فأَوْدَعْتَ الضُّلوعَ حَنينَ ذِكْرٍ

سَيَبْقَى حارِقًا بَعْدَ الوَداعِ

You left within the ribs a yearning memory

That will burn on beyond the last goodbyes.

مَضَيْتَ كَما حَيِيْتَ كَريمَ نَفْسٍ

جَميلًا في العِيانِ وفي السَّماعِ

You went as you had lived, a noble soul,

Fair-visaged and in name without surmise:

"وَلَوْ صَوَّرتَ نَفْسَكَ لَمْ تَزِدْها

عَلَى ما فيكَ مِنْ كَرَمِ الطِّباعِ"

"And if you pictured yourself, you'd add no grace

To what inhered in you of nature's pride."