1. Do you consent, O people of Baghdad
That the talk of glory is attributed to me

2. While I travel from your land
Roaming the countries and gaining knowledge

3. Is there not one man among you
Moved by glory and eminence

4. To grant me a favor by which
My gratitude is bound and enslaved?

5. And be furiously angry on my behalf
With which the corrupt is reformed by the righteous

6. Indeed, my literature has honored me among you
As the beard honors the emeralds

7. Is there anyone among you but for his poetry
Gentle and his mind excellent

8. You are pleased for him to be sung about
And delighted that he recites

9. I swear a loaf for me
From your words, swaying, excellent

10. I see the sea blocking you
And I have no way to cross his sword

11. The best of you distance themselves if I come near
And the worst do not distance

12. And I witness on the day of encounter
Even if the spoils are divided, I do not witness

13. I plant my praise but do not harvest it
I sow my gratitude but do not reap it

14. I sell my poems and books but no hand
Reaches out to me with provision

15. Time treats me unjustly with its turns
As if its events were icy

16. Does no generous man among you become alert for me
To assist me in it or make me happy?

17. I will wait patiently
Perhaps its results will be praised

18. And if the market of my praise to you is shut down
The market of books does not shut down

19. And I will leave you for a city
In which, in adversities, there is one who provides

20. I will settle in its place among its people
With virtue in it, not denied

21. To a city where troubles do not stand
With the free man in it, nor sit

22. The water of generosity in it does not become bitter
The wind of noble deeds does not still

23. Neither do starving lions die in it
Nor dogs become aggressive

24. Its days make peace with its people
So the sword of troubles in it is sheathed

25. May God protect Baghdad from an abode
In which every noble act is missed

26. This is the house - neither is my living in it
Shady, nor is my time in it wasted

27. The breeze of passions in it is cool
And the market of poetry in it is cooler

28. And the morals of its inhabitants are like fresh water
But their hands are frozen

29. So the palms of cultured men are clenched
And the face of humanity is cold

30. The clouds of noble deeds do not drizzle
And the fire of injustices is not extinguished

31. Every day in it the lower class is seen
In charge but not suitable for it

32. He struggles without his origin and kin supporting him
And he is abandoned by family and allies

33. He admires the scent of his clothes
While his origin and birth are wicked

34. His actions rival kings
While his fathers’ baseness testifies against him

35. He focuses on whitening his clothes
While the face of time because of him is blackened

36. And while you see him in a condition
That the envious admire his gentleness

37. Until you see him appointed
With the inkwell behind him and the desk in front

38. I settled in it unwillingly, not settling
When people settle and I do not contract

39. As the black stone settled in the grasp
Of the Qarmatian, may his greetings be stoned

40. It is as if when I resided
In its outskirts for some time, seated,

41. The affliction grew long against one humiliated
And the likes of me does not sleep on injustice

42. I have no resolve to rise up
With which my blanket at night would be folded

43. The envious bite their palms because of it
And the likes of me are envied for the like of it