تكدّر هذا العيش بعد صفائه

This life grew troubled after its serenity, and turned what was once hope into utter despair.

Ah, who will aid a soul whose heart illness has consumed, growing so sick that no physician can cure its pain?

My friends, do not think the flood of my tears is too much; by God, I have not yet fulfilled the right of mourning him.

God is my refuge against a day whose trials turned my hair gray, loading upon me the full heat of its agony.

By my life, there is no good in living after him—oh, how can life go on now that he is gone?

Fate refuses to strike down anything less than the noble; true virtue and generosity were buried the day he died.

Go easy on me, my companions, leave me be; I am a bereft brother of regrets, devoted only to his grief.

And O Time, show mercy to a man to whom you have left no hope, having cut every cord of his expectation.

A noble man shattered by crushing calamities, while divine decree stood immovable against his own wishes.

May God water a venerated grave out in the desert; how I wish I were resting in the dust at its edge.

You lived a free man, untouched by indignity, and you remained loyal and true to your promises.

You surrendered your face to the Merciful as a believer, sparing no effort in the pursuit of His pleasure.

The land whose honor you once guarded wept for you, defended by the sharp blade of a resolve devoted to its trials.

A people for whom you were always a sincere and faithful counselor mourn you; may God reward you with the best of rewards.

May the grace and favor of the Almighty envelop you, for you were indeed a light by whose brilliance others were guided.