1. They said, "The feast has come!" I said, "The feast is wont
To bring the poor man grief, the parasites delight."

2. The rich man joyful is when dawn uplights the feast,
While he that little hath wakes anxious from the night.

3. "Rejoice!" they cried. I answered, "Want to me is home;
My craft and paperwork are all I have in sight."

4. Long resident hath poverty become with me,
Familiar as the Jinn that haunt the ancient site.

5. So used am I to want, though it avoided me,
And I had fallen in a well, I still would not

6. Have thought it right to leave my visit incomplete.
My friend who backs me up, my coat, my drawers as well,

7. My counsellor, my usher, him who makes me late -
Thanks be to God, eternal, endless praise!

8. No thanks restricted in the Grave's confined space.
My fate's voucher doth but a scrap-paper comprise,

9. While the rich man's voucher thousands doth erase.
My share of festival's delights, behind my wage,

10. Is dust and eating bread with patience to efface.
Unto the feast I go, despis'd, in threadbare clothes,

11. While people don their best brocades in joy's embrace.
Great is the difference 'twixt brocade and rags that fail

12. To keep out cold, while tabret and zither fill the place!
Would I were a merchant from Damascus, round

13. Whose neck a thousand golden dinars they encase!
Would I were a Mudarite of purest strain,

14. Or a Sassanid, o'er goodly riches set in base!
Most cruel troth, that never grants me benefit,

15. Though wisdom and keen wits are patent in my case.