1. The turns of fate have worn you down, O son of one who wears necklaces,
Yet still you call upon its happiness, and it responds,

2. Its calamities have been gentle with you,
As if the striking afflictions were hearts,

3. You have no weapon but blades
That pierce the armor and mail of warriors.

4. Events shy away from you as though they are
Abyssinian slaves, while the white-haired are youthful.

5. So the illness you had has passed away,
Just as a cross was removed from a Christian,

6. An Indian idol may be polished
While the side of a cultured man is adorned.