Aisha has returned to her distant country,
let the poem mourn her
and the wind, and the ashes, and the dove,
and let the cloud mourn her,
and the priest of the temple, and the stars, and the Euphrates.
On the deathbed I laid you down, Ishtar.
I cried in Babylon until the walls melted.
Abd al-Wahhab al-Bayyati, tr. F. Wahab, N. Rahman and C. Hotchandani