1. An illness with no cure for its healer,
And days whose beauties are but flaws,

2. And a time that accepts no good advice,
Like a wolf accepts no discipline,

3. Love remains despite adversities and calamities,
Neither was the lover nor the beloved there,

4. Beware, do not come near deceitful men
Whose evil is stirred by seclusion,

5. You hid from them while the poison hides
The bitterness of its taste, the tainted deed,

6. And one deluded by your company who knows not
When he'll be called or when he'll answer,

7. He thinks life will not harm one day
If it went well while afflictions have kinds,

8. I looked but saw none except the heedless
Whose hopes are fed by the lying greed,

9. After Al-Arihaee, my father Abu Shuja’,
the wise and brilliant lived a happy life,

10. And he ruled the lands but the sun did not rise or set
On him while abundance made it rebel,

11. He called them as it climbed into his throat
But neither the far nor the near availed,

12. Nor what his hands had amassed of every luxury,
As fate had a share in him,

13. It pains me that you yielded willingly,
While you made those who roused you quiver,

14. It astonishes that you were subdued by those
Whose buzzing you once frightened, strange indeed,

15. So the astrologer knew not when he judged
What the obscurities would addle in you,

16. Nor did the doctor know the cure for an illness
In which you and the doctor are equal,

17. One day he says the sickness is but a cold,
And that recovery's path is easy,

18. Adversities grew bold and prolonged against us
After you left, the calamities took turns,

19. And ceaselessly you hear a fool say
Words that amazed even the orator,

20. By my father's life, you comforted and settled
Hearts that sadness used to haunt,

21. And eyes slept that indifference would arouse
Their lids for what arouses suspicion,

22. We knew slumber tasting and sensing
As you made them twist with strange sorrow,

23. Sorrow in which visions and pining increase
With no companion or watchdog over it,

24. Grief enough that you every day
Return while the absent do not,

25. To a land you became neighbor of dust
In it while both of you are strangers in it,

26. Its homesickness did not bore its inhabitants
With prevailing winds, pouring downpours,

27. Scattered by the north when it shed
Its tears and gathered by the south,

28. I'm glad a land was generous to you
With your bones under its solid melting,

29. And happy with the winds and no stillness
Feels your echo nor blowing,

30. Hope the day you left us nears
However much it comes near,

31. After you ties of elegy were untied
And praise and lineage were cancelled,

32. And the first ranks were excused and rested
And battles slept after their wakefulness,

33. Your thoroughbreds in meadows stalled
Running after you tired them and the pulls,

34. So there is no chewing the sorrel for them
Nor smelling the south wind's tails,

35. And with your quandaries each day
The enemies are lured by greed,

36. Well-bred are led to the stirrups
While the feeble cannot bridle them,

37. Their teeth eaten by afflictions
So neither walking nor trotting from them,

38. Seats of youths who shunned their comrades
Until overcome by ardent zeal,

39. Were beds prohibited or neglected?
Or are the youth without ardors?

40. As if impoverished of rides,
Propped up by canes.

41. I remembered you and nothing makes me forget you
Does the insightful forget his experiences?

42. While the people softened toward my equal
And gloom showed on their faces,

43. You have no protector from injustice's harm
If the angry conscience does not protect you,

44. Oh eye, so celebrate him
Though your lids ulcerate and the sun sets,

45. And tears washed away my eye's darkness
Just so, my greying made the old age,

46. If I'm said to have panicked while some rejoiced
That I answer misfortunes, responsive,

47. I have a soul that remains with sighs
And patience catastrophes do not exhaust,

48. The deaf calamities can burn
Like a fresh branch burns,

49. Like a stream's stick which has blemishes
While beneath its skin is a decayed core,

50. With the nation's crown my tears sufficed
And my wailing hurried to adorn,

51. I reserved for him a hand that asked my praise
And the scolding of essaying beyond me,

52. And the words of critics whom he disobeyed,
"Is there a lad who listens to you or admonishes you?"

53. So the echoer of spittle pure of him and his like
Deceived the shrewd,

54. Matters one does not dare desire
Unless possessed of mighty dignity,