لا عَيشَ إِلّا المَوتُ يَقطَعُهُ

لا عَيشَ إِلّا المَوتُ يَقطَعُهُ

لا شَيءَ دونَ المَوتِ يَمنَعُهُ

لا شَيءَ دونَ المَوتِ يَمنَعُهُ

There is no life that death does not cut short.

No life but death cuts it short

Nothing stands in death's way to stop it.

Nothing stops it but death prevents it

وَالمَرءُ في شَهَواتِ غَفلَتِهِ

وَالمَرءُ في شَهَواتِ غَفلَتِهِ

وَالدَهرُ يَخفِضُهُ وَيَرفَعُهُ

وَالدَهرُ يَخفِضُهُ وَيَرفَعُهُ

And man is absorbed in his heedless desires,

And man in his heedless pleasures

while time lowers him and raises him.

Fate debases and elevates him

وَمُدافِعٍ لِلشَيبِ يَخضُبُهُ

وَمُدافِعٍ لِلشَيبِ يَخضُبُهُ

وَالشَيبُ نَحوَ المَوتِ يَدفَعُهُ

وَالشَيبُ نَحوَ المَوتِ يَدفَعُهُ

And many a man resisting gray hair dyes it,

As he defends against gray hair, dyeing it

while gray hair drives him toward death.

While the gray drives him toward death

وَالعَيشُ كُلُّ جَديدِهِ خَلَقٌ

وَالعَيشُ كُلُّ جَديدِهِ خَلَقٌ

كُلٌّ لَهُ عَيشٌ يُرَقِّعُهُ

كُلٌّ لَهُ عَيشٌ يُرَقِّعُهُ

And life—everything new in it is threadbare;

And all life is a new creation

each has a life he patches up.

Each has a life it mends

وَلَقَلَّ ما جَرَتِ الخُطوبُ فَلَم

وَلَقَلَّ ما جَرَتِ الخُطوبُ فَلَم

تَخطُر عَلى قَلبٍ تُرَوِّعُهُ

تَخطُر عَلى قَلبٍ تُرَوِّعُهُ

And seldom do calamities unfold without

And few disasters have occurred without

crossing a heart and terrifying it.

Terrifying the heart

وَلَخَيرُ قَولِ المَرءِ أَصدَقُهُ

وَلَخَيرُ قَولِ المَرءِ أَصدَقُهُ

وَلَخَيرُ فِعلِ المَرءِ أَنفَعُهُ

وَلَخَيرُ فِعلِ المَرءِ أَنفَعُهُ

And surely a man's best words are his truest,

The best of a man's words are the truest

and surely a man's best deeds are his most beneficial.

The best of a man's acts are the most useful

وَالمَوتُ لا يُبقي عَلى أَحَدٍ

وَالمَوتُ لا يُبقي عَلى أَحَدٍ

وَلِكُلِّ جَنبٍ مِنهُ مَصرَعُهُ

وَلِكُلِّ جَنبٍ مِنهُ مَصرَعُهُ

And death spares no one,

And death leaves no one remaining

and every flank has its fall at death's hands.

And for every side there is an appointed place of death

وَجَميعُ ما لِلمَرءِ مِن عَمَلٍ

وَجَميعُ ما لِلمَرءِ مِن عَمَلٍ

فَالمَرءُ يَحصِدُهُ وَيَزرَعُهُ

فَالمَرءُ يَحصِدُهُ وَيَزرَعُهُ

And all a man's deeds—

And all the works of a man

he himself reaps them and sows them.

Are harvested and sown by the man

عَجَباً لِذي عَيشٍ تَيَقَّنَ أَن

عَجَباً لِذي عَيشٍ تَيَقَّنَ أَن

نَ المَوتَ حَقٌّ كَيفَ يَنفَعُهُ

نَ المَوتَ حَقٌّ كَيفَ يَنفَعُهُ

I marvel at one who lives, knowing for certain that

Strangely, one with a life who knows certainly

death is real—how can life benefit him?

That death is a truth - how does it avail him?