1. حليفُ سُهادٍ ليلُهُ كنهارِهِ

    يبيتُ شِعارُ الهمِّ دونَ شعارهِ

    A companion of sleeplessness, his night is like his day;

    he passes the night with sorrow's shirt beneath his own.

  2. أصابتْهُ من رَيْب الزمان مُصيبةٌ

    كَؤودٌ لها ما بعدها من حذاره

    A calamity from the hazards of time has struck him,

    a crushing blow that claims even his dread of what comes after it.

  3. رَزيّةُ خال كان للدهرِ جُنَّةً

    إذا الدهر أنحَى مُرْهفات شِفاره

    The loss of a maternal uncle who was a shield against time

    when time brought down the whetted edges of its blades.

  4. وكان إذا عُدَّ الخُؤول فَعُدِّدَتْ

    مَساعيه لم تغْض الجُفون لعاره

    When maternal uncles were counted, and

    his deeds recounted, no eyelids lowered in shame for him.

  5. ألا مات من مات الوفاء بموته

    فأعوزَ من يوفي بذمة جاره

    Ah, he has died, and loyalty died with him;

    one who honors his neighbor's covenant is now hard to find.

  6. ألا مات من مات السماح بموته

    وكل عطاء نقدُهُ كضِماره

    Ah, he has died, and generosity died with him;

    every gift's ready payment is now like wealth beyond recovery.

  7. فأي قِرىً تَقرِي الليالي ضيوفَها

    وقد عَطلت ما عَطَّلتْ من عِشاره

    What hospitality can the nights offer their guests,

    when they have left so many of his pregnant she-camels untended?

  8. فتىً كان يَهدي الجودُ قصدَ سبيلِه

    وحاشاه من أسراره وبِداره

    A youth whom generosity guided down his straight path,

    and along both its sides, through his secret and swift giving.

  9. فتى كان لا يطوي على الغدر كَشْحَه

    ولا تسأمُ الأيامُ يومَ فَخاره

    A youth who never harbored treachery within his breast;

    the days never tired of his day of glory.

  10. فتى كان كالعذراء في ظل خدرها

    وكالأسد الرئبال في ظل داره

    A youth like a maiden beneath her curtained shelter,

    and like a fierce lion beneath the shelter of his home.

  11. مضى قد تناهَى سُؤْدداً غير أنه

    مضى نَصَفاً قد لاح شَيْب عذاره

    He passed away, having reached nobility's summit, except that

    he passed in middle age, gray just appearing in his sideburns.

  12. خبا قمرُ الدنيا لحين اتساقه

    فيا أسَفاً هلا لحين سِراره

    The world's moon went dark just as it grew full;

    alas, why not at the time of its dark phase?

  13. علاه كسوفُ البدر عند تمامه

    مُلِحٌّ به حتى هوى في مغَاره

    An eclipse covered the full moon at its fullness,

    persisting until it plunged into its cavern.

  14. رُزِئناه يومَ الأربِعاء ولم تزل

    فَواقرُ هذا الدهر يوم دبَاره

    We lost him on Wednesday; ever have

    this age's back-breaking blows come on its day of Dubār.

  15. بنفسيَ من لم تُقْض بعضُ حقوقِه

    ولم تفْنَ أيدينا بطول اعتواره

    My life be ransom for him, some of whose dues remain unpaid,

    nor did our hands wear out taking turns tending him.

  16. بنفسيَ من لم يؤذِنا بأنينه

    ولم يؤذ جارَيْ بيتِه بجواره

    My life be ransom for him who never troubled us with his groaning,

    nor troubled his home's two neighbors by living beside them.

  17. حبيبٌ دَعاه مُستزيراً حبيبُهُ

    فخفَّ له مستبشراً بمزاره

    A beloved whom his beloved summoned to visit;

    he hastened to him, rejoicing in the visit.

  18. وقصَّر شكواه فكانت كأنها

    طريقٌ أراهُ كيفَ وجْهُ اختصاره

    He shortened his suffering, so it seemed

    a road that showed him how it might be shortened.

  19. ولم تَطُل البلوى عليه لعلمه

    بتسليمه فيما مضى واصطباره

    His ordeal was not prolonged, for He knew

    his submission in times past and his patient endurance.

  20. تبلج عند الموت وابيضّ وجهُهُ

    تبلُجَ ضوء الفجر عند انفجاره

    At death he shone, and his face grew white,

    as dawn's light shines when it breaks.

  21. فشكَّكَنا في موته غير أنه

    أبان لنا في طرفه وانكساره

    He made us doubt his death, except that

    he disclosed it in his gaze and its fading.

  22. فلو كان يدري قبرُهُ من يحِلُّهُ

    تفرَّجَ بالترحيب قبل احتفاره

    Had his grave known who would dwell within it,

    it would have opened in welcome before being dug.

  23. أعِلّانُ علَّتْكَ الروائحُ صَوْبَها

    وأنْهلَكَ الغادي رَوِيَّ قطارِهِ

    O ʿIllān, may evening clouds drench you anew with their downpour,

    and the morning cloud give you a first deep draught of its rain.

  24. بحسبك بل حسب المريديَ بالرّدى

    جوى حَزَنٍ يَصلى فؤداي بناره

    Enough for you—rather, enough for him who wishes me dead—

    is the burning grief in whose fire my heart burns.

  25. على أنه لا حسْبَ لي بعدما أتتْ

    عليه الليالي من مَزيد المكاره

    Yet nothing can suffice me, after

    the further hardships the nights have brought upon it.

  26. فلا يُبْقِ مكروهٌ عليَّ فإنني

    لكلّ كريهٍ نالني غير كاره

    Let no misfortune spare me, then, for I

    am not averse to any horror that befalls me.

  27. أعِلّان مَنْ أغشَى ليؤنس وَحدتي

    ويدْحَر عني الهم عند احتضاره

    O ʿIllān, whom shall I visit to soothe my loneliness

    and drive sorrow from me when it arrives?

  28. أعلّانُ من يُصْغي لسمع شَكيَّتي

    وأصْغي إلى مردوده وحواره

    O ʿIllān, who will lend an ear to my complaint,

    while I listen to his answers and conversation?

  29. أعِلّانُ من أفشِي إليه سريرتي

    فآمنَ من إدلاله واغتراره

    O ʿIllān, to whom shall I confide my innermost thoughts,

    safe from his presumption and conceit?

  30. ومن ذا يُحامي عن ذِماريَ غائباً

    أشدَّ محاماةِ امرئٍ عن ذِماره

    And who will defend my honor in my absence

    as fiercely as a man defends his own?

  31. ومن ذا تظلُّ النفسُ عند مغيبه

    معلَّقَةً آمالُهما بانتظاره

    And who, when absent, leaves the soul

    suspended, the hopes of both fixed on awaiting him?

  32. نهاري لدْن فارقتني لك موحِشٌ

    وليلي فقيدُ النوم حتى انحساره

    Since you left me, my day is desolate for you,

    and my night bereft of sleep until it fades.

  33. عليَّ خشوع ظاهر واستكانةٌ

    كأني أسير كانع في إساره

    Visible dejection and submission lie upon me,

    as though I were a captive, bowed within his bonds.

  34. أيسكن مسلوبٌ سكينةَ ليله

    ويأنس مفجوع بأنس نَهاره

    Can one robbed of his night's tranquility be still,

    and one bereaved of his day's companionship find comfort?

  35. يُقاسي زفيراً دائباً في صعوده

    يُراح ودمعاً دائباً في انحداره

    He endures sighs unceasing in their ascent,

    breathed out, and tears unceasing in their fall.

  36. ألا تَعِسَ الدهرُ المُفرِّق بيننا

    وإن كان كلٌّ عاثراً بعِثاره

    Ah, may time, which parted us, perish,

    though everyone stumbles at its stumbling.

  37. ألحَّ علينا مولَعاً بسَراتنا

    كما أولع الجاني بخير ثِماره

    It pressed relentlessly upon us, obsessed with our noblest,

    as a fruit-picker covets the finest of his fruit.

  38. أرى الدهرَ لا يأوي لعوْلة مُعْوِلٍ

    ولا يَرعوي للصوت عند انشماره

    I see time feels no pity for a mourner's wailing,

    nor checks itself at the cry when it rushes onward.

  39. يصول فلا يرثي لثُكل كبيرةٍ

    ولا يُتْم طفل يا لَسُوء اقتداره

    It assaults, with no pity for an old woman's bereavement,

    nor a child's orphanhood—how vile its power!

  40. ألا بؤس لِلأَم التي هُدَّ رُكنُها

    بواحدها المُخْلي عِراصَ دِياره

    Ah, misery for the mother whose pillar was shattered

    with the loss of her only son, who left his courtyards empty!

  41. ويا بؤس لِلأخْت الشقية بعده

    من الحَزَنِ الباقي وطول استعاره

    And misery for the sister, wretched after him,

    from grief that endures and its long-burning flame.

  42. ويا بؤس للطفل الصغير وشادنٍ

    تعجَّلَ بؤس اليُتْم قبل اتِّغاره

    And misery for the little child, and a gazelle-fawn

    who met orphanhood's misery before his second teeth appeared.

  43. محمدُكُمْ قد بَتَّ ريحانَ صدره

    ونازعه في الليل فضل إزاره

    Your Muḥammad is severed from him, once sweet basil upon his breast,

    he who vied with him at night for the spare folds of his wrap.

  44. أبا قاسمٍ كم قد هفا لك لبُّهُ

    على فضلة من حلمه ووقاره

    O Abū Qāsim, how often his heart fluttered toward you,

    for all his abundant forbearance and dignity!

  45. فظل يناغيك الكلام بمنطقٍ

    رقيق الحواشي زانه بافتراره

    Then he would coo words to you in speech

    gentle at its edges, adorned with his smile.

  46. سقى الغيثُ ميتاً خُطَّ بالدَيْر قبرُهُ

    فواراهُ إلا سُؤدداً لم يواره

    May rain water the dead man whose grave was marked at the monastery;

    it hid him, but could not hide his nobility.

  47. بأقرب دارٍ لا أرى الدهرَ وجهَهُ

    فيا بُعدَ مرآه ويا قُرْبَ داره

    In the nearest dwelling, yet I shall never see his face;

    how distant the sight of him, how near his dwelling!

  48. عَداهُ البِلى أن يستجيب لدعوتي

    وقد يُنجَدُ الملهوفُ عند اضطراره

    Decay has kept him from answering my call,

    though the anguished may be helped in their distress.

  49. وكنت إذا استنجدتُهُ فدعوتُهُ

    دعوتُ نصيراً نصرُهُ كانتصاره

    When I sought his aid and called him,

    I called a champion whose aid was like fighting for himself.

  50. فوالله لا أنساهُ حتى أرى لهُ

    شبيهاً على أسبابه ونجاره

    By God, I shall not forget him until I see

    someone like him in his qualities and his stock.

  51. ولو أنني أيضاً رأيتُ شبيهَهُ

    لما كان إلا مُغرياً بادِّكاره

    And even if I saw his like,

    it would only stir me to remember him.

  52. فلو كان هذا الموت قِرناً أطيقهُ

    لما فاتني أخرى الليالي بثاره

    Had death been an opponent I could withstand,

    it would not escape my vengeance for him to the last of nights.

  53. ولو قبِلتْ مني الليالي فداءهُ

    لفَاديتُها من تالدي بخياره

    Had the nights accepted his ransom from me,

    I would have paid them the choicest of my inherited wealth.

  54. فأنَّى تُفاديني المنايا بمثله

    وكَيْسُ المنايا كيسُها في اختياره

    But how could the fates accept my ransom for his like,

    when their cunning lies in choosing him?

  55. ألا ليتَما كنَّا كغادٍ ورائحٍ

    وكان رواحي لاحقاً بابتكاره

    Ah, would that we were one departing at dawn and one at dusk,

    and my evening departure followed close upon his early one.

  56. عليك سلام اللَه حيّاً وميّتاً

    تباشرتِ الموتى بقرب جواره

    God's peace be upon you, living and dead;

    the dead shared glad tidings of having him near as their neighbor.

  57. أبى ليَ أن أسْلاك ما دمتُ باقياً

    حُلُولُكَ من قلبي مكينَ قراره

    What forbids me to forget you as long as I live

    is your dwelling in the securest depths of my heart.