1. I mixed my tears with memories of 'Uqayq,
And cast my complaints to the gentle breeze,

2. And if the reproacher speaks of me with tranquility,
Then I and my reproacher are both weak,

3. And my only medicine is Ahmad's soil,
In Taybah, exalted above all heavens,

4. Where angels circle his shrine humbly,
In the evenings and mornings,

5. So will I have access to the verses of Taybah,
With which I find deliverance from the fetters of my misery,

6. And fashion from the orphaned pearls my eulogies,
With which I surpass the compositions of the poets,

7. With Zuhayr’s abode where Ka'b and others dwelled,
My praise, my hope, and my aspirations fulfilled.