صحَا وللجهلِ أوقاتٌ وميقاتُ

صحَا وللجهلِ أوقاتٌ وميقاتُ

وللغَوايات والأهواءِ غاياتُ

وللغَوايات والأهواءِ غاياتُ

He came to his senses: folly has its seasons and its appointed hour,

There are times of serenity, and ignorance has its seasons and appointed times,

and waywardness and passions have their limits.

As desires and passions have their ends and limits,

رأى المشيبَ كبِيضِ الهِندِ لامعةً

رأى المشيبَ كبِيضِ الهِندِ لامعةً

لها علَى فَودِهِ الغربيبِ إِصلاتُ

لها علَى فَودِهِ الغربيبِ إِصلاتُ

He saw gray hair like gleaming swords of India,

He saw his white hair shining like Indian goose feathers,

unsheathed upon his raven-black temple.

Adorning his youthful temples in beautiful strands,

فراجعَ الحلمَ وانجابَت غَوايَتُه

فراجعَ الحلمَ وانجابَت غَوايَتُه

وفي النُّهى للهَوى المُرْدي نِهاياتُ

وفي النُّهى للهَوى المُرْدي نِهاياتُ

So he returned to sound judgment, and his waywardness lifted;

So he reconsidered his dreams, and his misguided passions answered back,

and in reason lie limits to ruinous desire.

And in self-denial, desire has its ultimate end,

والشيبُ شُهْبٌ رمت شيطانَ شِرِّتِهِ

والشيبُ شُهْبٌ رمت شيطانَ شِرِّتِهِ

فأقصَدَتْهُ وكم تَنجو الرَّمِيَّاتُ

فأقصَدَتْهُ وكم تَنجو الرَّمِيَّاتُ

And gray hairs are meteors that struck the demon of his unruliness,

For gray hair is a shooting star that targets the devil of evil,

so they struck him dead—yet many a target escapes.

Striking him down, and how many archers hit their targets!

لله دَرُّ الصِّبا لو دَام رونَقُهُ

لله دَرُّ الصِّبا لو دَام رونَقُهُ

فما كأوقَاتِه فِي العمرِ أوقاتُ

فما كأوقَاتِه فِي العمرِ أوقاتُ

God bless youth—if only its radiance lasted!

Praise be to God for the pearl of youth if its radiance were to last,

For no other times in life are like its times.

For its moments in life are not like other moments,

ولا رَعى الشَّيبَ من زَوْرٍ إذا نزل الْ

ولا رَعى الشَّيبَ من زَوْرٍ إذا نزل الْ

مَثْوى نَأَتْ وسَرَتْ عنهُ المَسَرَّاتُ

مَثْوى نَأَتْ وسَرَتْ عنهُ المَسَرَّاتُ

And may God not favor gray hair as a guest: when it enters the

Nor does old age heed any falsehood when the final

dwelling, joys withdraw and depart from it by night.

Resting place beckons, and its secrets are uncovered,

طَوالعُ الشّيبِ إن رَاقتك واضحةً

طَوالعُ الشّيبِ إن رَاقتك واضحةً

طلائعٌ قدَّمَتْهُنَّ المَنِيَّاتُ

طلائعٌ قدَّمَتْهُنَّ المَنِيَّاتُ

The first signs of gray hair, even if their brightness pleases you,

The rise of gray hair, if it pleases you, is clearly

are vanguards that death has sent ahead.

A harbinger whose advent has been heralded by death.