1. Oh Harut, grant me some of your magic
For with it today I will achieve what I desire

2. Pour over me inspiration that will heal
The stagnation of my talent so it flows like a sea

3. And inspire in me and let it flow
Through my pen and drip from it drop by drop

4. A time has come upon me when I fell silent
And my soul recoiled from speech by force

5. And I said to it, forsake composing poetry
And turn away from it, O soul, with patience

6. The rope of poetry has twisted you, so cut it
Completely and replace attachment with estrangement

7. Do you not see that a quarter of speech is stronger?
And its beauty has become a deserted ruin

8. Its eloquence has become defective, as you know
And its rhetoric has clearly diminished

9. I have intentionally blinded rhetorical analysis
And will not ask it for an excuse

10. For taciturnity is more faithful than
Animation in meaning and flowing

11. The time of competing with rhymes and meters has passed
And poetry was once sweet on tongues

12. Therefore, leave it and its passions
To one infatuated with what is futile and persisting