يا شَيبُ كَيفَ وما انقَضى زَمنُ الصبِّا

يا شَيبُ كَيفَ وما انقَضى زَمنُ الصبِّا

عاجَلتَ منِّي اللمَّةَ السوداءَ

عاجَلتَ منِّي اللمَّةَ السوداءَ

O gray hair, how—before youth’s days are over—

O gray hair, how could time have passed so fast since my youth

have you overtaken my black locks so soon?

You hastened the black sorrow upon me

لا تعجلنَّ فوا الذي جَعلَ الدُّجى

لا تعجلنَّ فوا الذي جَعلَ الدُّجى

في لَيلِ طُرَّتي البهيمِ ضِياءَ

في لَيلِ طُرَّتي البهيمِ ضِياءَ

Do not hasten! For, by Him who made darkness

Do not hasten, by Him who made the darkness radiance

light in the pitch-black night of my forelock,

In the night of my confused life

لَو أَنَّها يَومَ الحِسابِ صَحيفتي

لَو أَنَّها يَومَ الحِسابِ صَحيفتي

ما سرَّ قَلبي كَونُها بَيضَاءَ

ما سرَّ قَلبي كَونُها بَيضَاءَ

if it were my record on the Day of Reckoning,

If on Judgement Day it were my record

its being white would not gladden my heart.

My heart would rejoice that it is blank