1. A hand time sees as blameless,
That wipes away the wrong it did to me and pardons it,

2. Brought me a friend's affection,
Affection that grows pure in its intimacy and bears fruit,

3. My hand clung to it with a clinging, tenacious bond
That endures through time and is hoarded away,

4. Yet I complain of you, Abu Husain,
And the free man bears with his friend and is patient,

5. When I find fault with a friend I complain of him
In secret to him, and in gatherings I give thanks,

6. Why does my poetry get no answer from you?
At your place it seems a fruitless effort I cannot excuse.