Sad poems about death

Poetic verses about death

• Antara bin Shaddad:

Choose a house for yourself

Or die generous under the shadow of the Qastal

Death does not save you from its afflictions

A fortress, even if you built it with horseshoes

The boy's death in honor is better for him

From being a prisoner of a party, a kohl

Do not give me the water of life to drink

Rather, give me a drink of pride, the cup of bitter gourd

The water of life is a suit like hell

And hell with honor is the best home

• Abo Altaieb Almotanabi:

It is enough for you to see death as a cure

And according to the desires, that he be wishful.

• Poet Ahmed Shawky:

Death is the end of every living thing

No owner of the king immortalized

God's year in the servants and command

A spokesman for the remains will not respond

You stood between death or life

If you crave the bliss of eternity, then be sad

God bless her news came

On the guardian's hearing with what is difficult

• Ali bin Abi Talib:

The soul cries over the world, and it knows

That happiness is to leave what is in it

There is no house for one after death inhabited

Except the one that he built before death

If he builds it well, his dwelling will be good

And if a human being built it, it was disappointed

• Tarfa bin Al-Abd:

I see death preparing souls and I do not see

Far away tomorrow, closer today than tomorrow

• Jarir the poet:

I am the death that has come upon you

There is no escape from me

Ali bin Abi Talib's poem about death

The soul weeps over the world, and it knows it

Safety in it leaves what is in it

There is no house for a person to live in after death

Except the one that was built before death

If he builds it well, her dwelling will be good

And if a human being built it, it was disappointed

Where are the kings that were sultanate?

Until he watered her legs with the cup of death

We collect our money for those with inheritance

And our turn for the destruction of eternity we build it

How many cities in the horizons have been built

It became a ruin and death approached it

For every soul, even if it is on a wajl

From the dead, hopes that strengthen it

One simplifies it and time takes it

And the soul spreads it, and death folds it

The poem of Abi Al-Ala Al-Maari about death

If death approaches me

I don't hate his closeness

And that is the most secure fortress.

The grave is patient

He who meets him does not watch

Sermons, and he is not afraid of his anguish

as if I were a lord of camels,

He practiced his experiment

or activist,

In the desolate land, his cart

And if I am turned back to my original,

I was buried in the evil of his soil

Time passes, except

And he solved the age of his Lord

everyone is wary of death,

And not to drink it

And the rigorous one avoids biting

B, to start west

And stripping, on a bed,

Worse than a thousand blows

And the core fought, in us,

Of course he suffers his war

O inhabitant of the grave! Define

Wash the bathroom and shake it

And don't worry, I am

May I, thus, train him

He hates people like an ag

Dale, the one who returned leaked it

Or like a lender, from Ala

Slat, knock his button

There is no secret that strips the Lord

This is not the same as his flock

And what do I see the eyes,

Try it on the planets

You will take the eagle, and the doze

R, fish, and its soil

Search for every breath

East and West of space

and be punished, for unrighteousness,

Ajam Al-Anam, and his Arabs

what a flash of agate,

Except to irritate him

free passion worship,

What he tries to escape

He who sought me did not find me,

The houses are west of it

were junctures,

Like the feathers of his west

Then she cleaved, and we were amazed

For bitumen, change grits

if you subtract a little,

I counted it as close

I don't have a machine

Secret, not close

Abu Nawas poem about death

death is near,

We are not displaced

every day we mourn,

The shouts of him

Hearts ache, and cry

wailing wailers

Even when you are having fun

In heedlessness, and are you joking?

And death every day

In the ulna of your living, a igniter

So work for a frowning day,

From the intensity of the sphinx, it's like

And do not be deceived by the world,

Her bliss is displaced from you

And their hatred for you is fine,

And her love for you is scandalous!