كَأَنَّ حَياتي غُنوَةٌ جاهِلِيَّةٌ

كَأَنَّ حَياتي غُنوَةٌ جاهِلِيَّةٌ

شَدَتها اللَيالي لِلقُرونِ بِلا مَعنى

شَدَتها اللَيالي لِلقُرونِ بِلا مَعنى

As though my life were a pre-Islamic song,

My life is like an aimless pre-Islamic ode

Sung by the nights to the centuries without meaning;

Whose nights the ages have tightly braided

كَأَنّي أَنا فيها شَجِيُّ غِنائِها

كَأَنّي أَنا فيها شَجِيُّ غِنائِها

أَقامَ لَها ذِكرى تُغني بِها الأُذنا

أَقامَ لَها ذِكرى تُغني بِها الأُذنا

As though I, within it, were the plaintive voice of its song,

As if I were in it, the bard of its song

Who established for it a remembrance with which to enrich the ear.

Who made for it memories with which ears are serenaded