1. When Ibn Asrun complained of fever to me,
In his lower regions a burning everywhere,

2. And said, "A stubborn malady I have been afflicted with,
I am weary and every healer has failed,"

3. I stabbed him with my sturdy straight spear,
True tubes like a gushing fountain,

4. So he said when my spear began to pierce through,
"By God, your work is thanks to an ingenious skill,

5. From a molder who tempered pain with fire."
And his belly rumbled so he drew aside, then cast

6. A javelin dyed with blood from his pony,
And he stood reciting in wonder, uncaring

7. Of what had happened to me, fearing no shame,
"The piercer of the piercing stab, raging,

8. Repels its piercer through currents."

9. So I rose from him with my skirts on my shoulder,
And his wife peered from a window of the house,

10.
And recited, with tears flowing down her cheeks,

11. Coursing the channels of her lovely face:
"O God's bounty, be my neighbor in our homes,

12. I would ransom you, my soul, from any neighbor."
So I remained with him in leisure and comfort,

13. Gifted by his hands with presents,
Until my visits to him ceased, and it was clear to him

14. My affection had waned, and he saw signs of my drawing away.
He began to sing, and with hands joined with hands casually,

15. As if he had been taught by a sweet-voiced songstress:
"O Amr, no halting place in tracing out affection