1. I have become like the nightingales with sore breasts,
Marveling at the workings of fate,

2. I continued seeking in the lands a youth,
To be a treasure for me from treasures,

3. And to make me happy and I make him happy,
In every trying situation,

4. Until when my hands attained him,
Fate came at the wrong time flowing,

5. I am indeed in a worry that blesses me,
And a persistent worry that flows,

6. So I will endure, and I have not seen a remedy,
For worries other than determination and patience,

7. By Allah, I did not consider his loss immense,
Until news of his virtues encompassed me.