أَلا لَيتَ أُمّي لَم تَلِدني سَوِيَّةً

أَلا لَيتَ أُمّي لَم تَلِدني سَوِيَّةً

وَكُنتُ تُراباً بَينَ أَيدي القَوابِلِ

وَكُنتُ تُراباً بَينَ أَيدي القَوابِلِ

Oh, would that my mother had not borne me whole,

Alas, would that my mother had not given birth to me perfectly formed,

And I had been dust between the midwives’ hands,

And that I were but dust amid the hands of midwives.

وَخَرَّت عَلى الأَرضِ السَماءُ فَطَبَّقَت

وَخَرَّت عَلى الأَرضِ السَماءُ فَطَبَّقَت

وَماتَ جَميعاً كُلُّ حافٍ وَناعِلِ

وَماتَ جَميعاً كُلُّ حافٍ وَناعِلِ

And the sky had crashed onto the earth and covered it,

Would that the sky might cave upon the earth and flatten it,

And all had died together, barefoot and shod alike,

And that all things, even fates, might perish.

غَداةَ غَدا ناعٍ لِصَخرٍ فَراعَني

غَداةَ غَدا ناعٍ لِصَخرٍ فَراعَني

وَأَورَثَني حُزناً طَويلَ البَلابِلِ

وَأَورَثَني حُزناً طَويلَ البَلابِلِ

On the morning a herald came with news of Sakhr’s death and terrified me,

One morn a stone-carrier sang out, startling me,

And bequeathed me grief with enduring anguish.

And saddening me with a long, drawn-out melody,

فَقُلتُ لَهُ ماذا تَقولُ فَقالَ لي

فَقُلتُ لَهُ ماذا تَقولُ فَقالَ لي

نَعى ما اِبنِ عَمروٍ أَثكَلَتهُ هَوابِلي

نَعى ما اِبنِ عَمروٍ أَثكَلَتهُ هَوابِلي

So I said to him, “What are you saying?” He said to me:

I asked him, “What do you say?” And he said to me,

“Amr’s son is dead!”—may my bereaved women bring him bereavement!

“I lament what the son of ‘Amr – misfortunes consumed him.”

فَأَصبَحتُ لا أَلتَذُّ بَعدَكَ نِعمَةً

فَأَصبَحتُ لا أَلتَذُّ بَعدَكَ نِعمَةً

حَياتي وَلا أَبكي لِدَعوَةِ ثاكِلِ

حَياتي وَلا أَبكي لِدَعوَةِ ثاكِلِ

So, after you, I take no pleasure in any blessing

So now, after you, I take no joy in life’s pleasures,

Throughout my life, nor weep at a bereaved one’s cry.

Nor in living, nor in the call of a reproacher.

فَشَأنَ المَنايا بِالأَقارِبِ بَعدَهُ

فَشَأنَ المَنايا بِالأَقارِبِ بَعدَهُ

لِتُعلِل عَلَيهِم عَلَّةٌ بَعدَ ناهِلِ

لِتُعلِل عَلَيهِم عَلَّةٌ بَعدَ ناهِلِ

So let death have its way with kin after him,

It is the way of death to take away loved ones,

Let it drink from them again, a second draught after the first.

And so bring illness upon them, after one who gives to drink.