The Mathematics of a Lifetime: A Wake-Up Call from the Past
I recently stumbled upon a few lines of classical Arabic poetry that stopped me in my tracks. We often talk about “living life to the fullest,” but we rarely sit down to calculate where the hours actually go.
This poem takes a person’s sixty-year lifespan and strips away the illusions. It’s a sobering reminder that our “active” time is much shorter than we think. Reading this made me reflect deeply on my own priorities—how much of my life is truly mine, and how much is just “noise”?
The Poem
إِذا عاشَ الفَتى ستينَ عاماً If a youth lives for sixty years,
فَنِصفُ العُمرِ تَمحَقُهُ اللَيالي Then half of that life is consumed by the nights (sleep).
وَنِصفُ النِصفِ يَذهَبُ لَيسَ يَدري And half of the remaining half passes while he knows not,
لِغَفلَتِهِ يَميناً مِن شِمالِ Lost in the heedlessness of childhood, confused and unaware.
وَثُلثُ النِصفِ آمالٌ وَحِرصٌ And a third of what’s left is spent on hopes and greed,
وَشُغلٌ بِالمَكاسِبِ وَالعيالِ And the endless toil for wealth and providing for family.
وَباقي العُمرِ أَسقامٌ وَشَيبٌ What remains of life is but illness and grey hair,
وَهَمٌّ بِاِرتِحالٍ وَاِنتِقالِ And the heavy anxiety of the final departure.
فَحُبُّ المَرءِ طولَ العُمرِ جَهلٌ Thus, man’s longing for a long life is a kind of ignorance,
وَقِسمَتَهُ عَلى هَذا المِثالِ When its true divisions are laid out just like this.