1. I have a doctrine of satire against a land whose hearts are fouled,
People from people of vileness whom fate only gave wealth,

2. So they supposed they were people though not of humankind,
If you sought coins from their hands when penniless, no way,

3. Long has been my lifetime's accord with ill fate, so I
Rise up relying on good but retire relying on ill,

4. I hope for wealth in the morn but my day passes
Hoping the like, and at nightfall I hope the same,

5. Woe for mocking the vile wealthy folk
When I am not one of them in perplexity or doubt,

6. And I incline to satire freely
So if people are mean to me I satirize my own soul.