—for he wept over the sins he had already sent ahead, grieved for the worldly life he had left behind, and sought forgiveness at a moment when repentance could no longer benefit him nor apology rescue him, overwhelmed by the horror of death and the onslaught of calamity.

His sorrows and anxieties closed in around him,
while he despaired when destiny out-matched his power.
No hand could lift from him the anguish of dying,
no helper could shield him from what he feared.
His very soul writhed in dread of death,
his throat and chest struggling to restrain it.

At that point his regular visitors grew scarce; his family and children forsook him; the people’s wailing rose high, for they had lost all hope for the afflicted one. With their own hands they closed his eyes and, as his spirit departed, stretched out his legs—[even the close friend, the compassionate companion, had abandoned him].

How many a grief-stricken mourner weeps over him, bereaved,
imploring patience that will not come;
how many another, saying “innā lillāh wa-innā ilayhi rājiʿūn” in pure supplication,
recounts all he can remember of him;
and how many a spiteful rival rejoices at his death—
yet before long he will taste the very same fate.

His womenfolk tore open the fronts of their garments, his maid-servants slapped their cheeks, his neighbors wailed at his loss, and his brothers ached at his calamity. Then they turned to preparing his bier and rolled up their sleeves to bring him out, (as though he had never been the cherished, honored one among them, the beloved whom they singled out) (1).

And the man who loved him most remained close by (2),
pressing them to hasten his preparation and taking the lead.
Those summoned to wash him bared their arms,
and the grave-digger aimed his spade toward the burial-place.
He was wrapped in two shrouds,
and the cortege of his brothers and clansmen gathered round.

Had you seen his youngest son—sorrow had mastered the boy’s heart, and he fainted (3) from grief; tears had dyed his eyes—he lamented his father, crying, “Alas, alas! O my loss and my sorrow!”

You would have witnessed the hideous sight of death,
a scene that terrifies and startles every onlooker.
The elder sons’ anguish is rekindled
whenever the younger boys attempt to forget,
and the mistress of the women is distraught,
her tears streaming over her cheeks in torrents.

Then he was taken from the spaciousness of his palace to the narrowness of his grave. Once he was set in the niche and the bricks arranged above him, [his deeds swarmed around him and his sins encompassed him; he was stricken by what he saw. Then] (4) they heaped the earth over him with their own hands, weeping and wailing profusely. They lingered over him for a short while, abandoned hope of ever seeing him again, and left him pledged to what he had earned and pursued.