1. نَسيب قَد كانَ ساري الطَيفَ أَبدى لي

    رُؤيا تَناهي بِها ذُعري وَإِجفالي

    Nasib, a night-roaming phantom had shown me

    a vision in which my terror and alarm reached their height.

  2. رَأَيتُ في دارِنا الأَفواجَ أَشبَهَ بِال

    أَمواجِ ما بَينَ إِدبارٍ وَإِقبالِ

    I saw crowds in our house, most like the

    waves, now receding, now advancing.

  3. فَقُمتُ وَالبالُ مِنّي كاسِفٌ قَلِقاً

    مُستَقبَلاً مِن حَياتي كُلَّ ذي بالِ

    I rose anxious, my spirits clouded,

    facing every momentous turn of my life.

  4. وَما مَضَت ساعَةٌ إِلّا أَذِنتَ بِها

    مُصيبَةٌ حَقَّقَت خَوفي وَأَوجالي

    Scarcely an hour passed before news came of

    a calamity that confirmed my fear and dread.

  5. غَدَت عَلَيَّ سَلوَكَ البَرقَ ناقِلَةً

    نَبا يَقطَعُ أَسلاكي وَأَوصالي

    The telegraph wires came to me bearing

    news that severed my wires and limbs.

  6. تِلكَ التَعازي الَّتي الأُخوانُ تِبرِقِها

    وَذي المَدامِعِ مِنها كُلَّ هَطّالِ

    Those condolences the brethren telegraphed,

    and these tears, each one pouring down—

  7. أَيقَنتُ حَقّاً بِأَنّي قَد فَقَدتُ أَخي

    وَمَن أَرجى لِأَهوالي وَأَوهالي

    I knew for certain that I had lost my brother,

    and him I looked to amid my terrors and alarm.

  8. أَيقَنتُ أَنَّكَ بَعدَ اليَومِ مُغتَرِبٌ

    عَنّي وَلَستَ مُجيباً بَعدُ تَسآلي

    I knew that after today you would be far away

    from me, no longer answering my questions.

  9. شَعَرتُ إِذ ذاكَ أَن لا أَزرَ يَنهَضُ بي

    وَأَنَّني رازِحٌ مِن تَحتِ أَثقالي

    I felt then that no support could lift me,

    and that I was bowed beneath my burdens.

  10. كَأَنَّني في فَلاةٍ لا أَنيسَ بِها

    وَالأَرضُ صارَت جَميعاً رَبعَها الخالي

    As though I were in a wilderness without a companion,

    and all the earth had become its Empty Quarter.

  11. نَسيبُ غادَرَتني مِن بُعدِ بُعدِكَ في

    عَيشٍ تَبَدَّلَ آلامي بِآمالي

    Nasib, after your departure you have left me in

    a life that has replaced my hopes with my pains.

  12. لَكَ الخَلاصُ مِنَ الدارِ الَّتي طَبَعَت

    عَلى الشَقاءِ وَلي حَزَني وَإِعوالي

    Yours is release from the abode fashioned

    for misery; mine are my grief and wailing.

  13. قَد كُنتُ أَطمَعُ أَن أَلقاكَ والَهفي

    وَلَو تَطاوَلَ بي حِلّي وَتِرحالي

    I had hoped to meet you—alas for my longing!—

    though my sojourns and journeys stretched on,

  14. حَتّى أَتاني نَباً قَد رَدَّ لي أَمَلي

    واحَسرَتي أَمَلُ الظَمآنِ في الآلِ

    until news reached me that rebuffed my hope—

    alas! A thirsty man's hope in a mirage!

  15. لَم يَبقَ لي بَعدَ ذاكَ النَعِيِّ مِن أَمَلٍ

    إِلّا بِدَمعٍ طَوالَ اللَيلِ سَيّالِ

    After that death notice, no hope remained for me

    except in tears streaming all night long.

  16. أُبكيكَ في غَربَتي مُضني نَوىً وَتَوىً

    بِالبُعدِ وَالمَوتِ فَاِنظُر أَيَّ إِذلالِ

    I weep for you in my exile, worn by separation and ruin,

    by distance and death—see what abasement!

  17. هُم يَعرِفونَكَ مَن قَد كُنتَ مَعرِفَتي

    فَما يُزكيكَ إِلّا شاهِدَ الحالِ

    They know who you were, as I knew you,

    so only the witness of your life attests your worth.

  18. ما كُنتَ تَعدو وَلاتَبغي عَلى أَحَدٍ

    وَلا تُغَيِّر عَلى عَرضٍ وَلا مالِ

    You never overstepped or oppressed anyone,

    nor assailed honor or wealth.

  19. وَلا ذَكَرتَ اِمرِءاً يَوماً بِمَنقَصَةٍ

    يا أَبعَدَ الناسِ عَن قيلٍ وَعَن قالِ

    Nor did you ever speak of anyone disparagingly,

    O you farthest of all people from gossip and idle talk!

  20. لَم تَعرِفِ الكِبرَ في قضولٍ وَلا عَمَلٍ

    كَلّا وَلا سَرَت يَوماً سَيرَ مُختالِ

    You knew no arrogance in speech or deed;

    no, nor did you ever walk with a swaggerer's gait.

  21. فيكَ التَواضُعُ خَلَقَ لا تُكَلِّفهُ

    وَأَنتَ تَلبِسُ مِنهُ ثَوبَ إِجلالِ

    Humility was innate in you, never affected,

    and you wore it as a robe of dignity.

  22. وَلَم تَكُن لِجَميعِ الناسِ مُتَّضِعاً

    إِلّا عَلى ثِقَةٍ في النَفسِ وَالآلِ

    And you were not humble before all people

    except from confidence in yourself and your family.

  23. لَكَ المَزايا الَّتي الأَقوامُ تَحسُدُها

    وَما اِشتَعَلَت بِحُسّادٍ وَعُذّالِ

    You had the merits that people envy,

    yet you were never inflamed by enviers and faultfinders.

  24. لَو كانَتِ الناسُ في الدُنيا نَظيرُكَ لَم تَحتَج

    لَعَمري لِحُكّامٍ وَعُمّالِ

    If people in this world were like you, they would not need,

    by my life, rulers or officials.

  25. ما كُنتَ تَنشُدُ في الأَعمالِ مُحَمَّدَةً

    وَلا تُبالي بِأَلقابٍ وَإبجالِ

    You did not seek praise through your deeds,

    nor care about titles or veneration.

  26. بَل تِلكَ عاطِفَةُ النَفسِ الَّتي طَبَعَت

    عَلى الجَميلِ لِغَيرِ الجاهِ وَالمالِ

    Rather, that was the impulse of a soul fashioned

    for goodness rather than rank or wealth.

  27. وَكُنتُ في الشِعرِ فَذا لا يَشَقُّ لَهُ

    أَدنى غُبارٍ وَتَعي نارُهُ الصالي

    And I was peerless in poetry, one in whose wake none could cleave

    the slightest dust, and whose fire exhausted those who braved it.

  28. لَكَ القَوافي الَّتي أَعيَت نَظائِرَها

    نَوابِغَ الشِعرِ أَهلَ الشيحِ وَالضالِ

    Yours were rhymes whose equals eluded

    poetry's geniuses, the people of wormwood and wild lote trees.

  29. كَم مِن شَرودٍ لَعَمري قَد جَرَّرتَ بِها

    عَلى جَريرِ القَوافي فَضلَ أَذيالِ

    How many a wandering verse, by my life, let you trail

    your robes' long hems over Jarir of the rhymes!

  30. لَها مِنَ الحَضَرِ الأَكياسِ رُقتَهُم

    في لَفظِ بادِيَةٍ رَوّادِ أَطلالِ

    They bear the grace of the discerning townsfolk

    in the diction of desert dwellers, seekers of ruined camps.

  31. أَدرَكتُ في اللُغَةِ العَرباءِ مَنزِلَةً

    لَها عَلى كُلِّ فَحلٍ كُلِّ إِدلالِ

    I attained a rank in the pure Arabic tongue

    that may proudly vaunt itself over every master poet.

  32. كَن يَدَّعي الشِعرَ قَومٌ لَو وَزَنَت بِهِم

    هَدَرَت بَحراً وَساحوا سَيحَ أَوشالِ

    How many people claim poetry! Were you weighed against them,

    you would roar as a sea while they trickled like rivulets.

  33. قَد يَفقِدُ الناسَ حَقّاً في تَواضُعِهِم

    وَيَحسَبُ الصَمتُ عِيّاً عِندَ جِهالِ

    People may lose their due through their humility,

    and silence is deemed inarticulacy by the ignorant.

  34. وَكَم مَجالٌ بِهِ بانَ السكيتُ عَلى

    شَأوِ المَجلى وَبَذَّ العاطِلُ الحالي

    On how many a course has the laggard risen above

    the winner's reach, and the unadorned outstripped the adorned!

  35. يُعطيكَ حَقَّكَ دَهرٌ لَن تَضيعَ بِهِ

    إِنَّ الحَقائِقَ فيهِ غَيرَ أَغفالِ

    Time gives you your due; you will not be lost in it,

    for truths within it are not overlooked.

  36. ما مَرَّ ذِكرُكَ في نادٍ وَحاضِرُهُ

    لَم يَتبَعوكَ ثَناءً غَيرَ بُخّالِ

    Your name was never mentioned in a gathering without those present

    following you with praise, withholding none.

  37. ذِكراكَ باقِيَةً في الناسِ سائِرَةً

    كَم تَضوعُ عُرفَ المَندَلِ الغالي

    Your memory endures, travelling among people,

    how richly it wafts the scent of precious aloeswood!

  38. إِن طالَما كانَتِ الأَحزانُ زائِلَةً

    مَعَ الزَمانِ فَحَزَني غَيرَ زَيّالِ

    Though sorrows have so often faded

    with time, my grief will never fade.

  39. جُرحٌ أَتى حينَ شَمَّسَ العُمرُ قَد دَلَفَت

    إِلى الغُربِ وَدانَت بَينَ آجالِ

    A wound that came when the sun of life had crept

    toward the west, drawing close to life's appointed ends.

  40. وَلَوعَةَ البَينِ لا تَنفِكَ تَسفَعُ في

    قَلبي عَلى مَرِّ أَسحاري وَآصالي

    And parting's anguish never ceases scorching

    my heart through all my predawn hours and late afternoons.

  41. يا غَربَ لُبنانَ أَلقِ السَمعَ وَاِبكِ عَلى

    بُكا غَريبٍ بِأَقصى الغَربِ نَزّالِ

    O Gharb of Lebanon, lend an ear and weep over

    the weeping of an exile dwelling in the farthest West.

  42. فَلَم يَعُد في اِندِمالِ الجُرحِ مِن أَمَلٍ

    وَما بَقى مُهلَةً يَسلو بِها السالي

    For there is no longer any hope of the wound's healing,

    and no respite remains in which a mourner might find solace.