1. Give me back my youth from my empty days,
Will the darkness of faded hair ever return?

2. What my imagination conjured of the past,
Stirred in the pages of thought my turmoil.

3. Hearts have yearned and grieved on their beds,
After longing, while my heart is not yet tranquil.

4. Those who delight in their pleasure know not,
That I burn with the fire of his abandonment.

5. O you who are angry with us, will there come a day,
When union will comfort my acceptance?

6. You were absent and my days darkened after you left,
The nights fared badly after gathering.

7. I thought I could trust in you,
Until I was struck with what I never imagined.

8. I have not sinned in love to deserve,
Reproach, but these are distorted words.

9. He who obeys the wicked talebearers,
Will be repelled from the friend by hearing nonsense.

10. The most painful calamity is treason after trust,
The ugliest injustice, rejection after acceptance.

11. I have no fault but my freedom which,
Has prevented me from accepting humiliation for wealth.

12. I followed the principles of my ancestors,
On the path of manners and decency.

13. Never does the specter of betrayal cross my mind,
Nor do the features of evil appear in my thoughts.

14. My heart is pure, my soul is free, my hand,
Trustworthy, and my tongue far from pretentiousness.

15. But I live in a time in which I am a stranger,
Among its people, when few are like me.

16. I have tested my fate and do not praise,
Its nights before or its days after.

17. I have tasted its sweet and bitter,
Its fertility and infertility.

18. So I do not grieve loss after destiny,
Nor rejoice in abundance after scarcity.

19. Chastity has purified my soul, it did not cling,
To the disgraceful dust that tarnishes my honor.

20. So today neither does obedience agree with me,
Nor does my heart incline towards the flowers of life.

21. I have no purpose left in this world to pursue,
Except the company of a noble and sincere friend.

22. But where can I obtain what I desire,
When honesty in this world tires every fraud.

23. I have no intimate in Serendib to converse with,
No friend to graze with me the prime of discourse.

24. I sleep alone atop a towering peak,
Like al-Qatami above a lofty watchtower.

25. When I look around, I see none but images,
Drawn by the painter of my hopes.

26. The wind blows me softly at times, and the chill,
Of the hills wraps me in its penetrating cold.

27. So there are clouds with spellbinding visions,
And in the horizon torrents with striking wonders.

28. As if the arc of clouds is an aqueduct,
Suspended above the sea’s surging waters.

29. When the rays shine through it disperses,
Marvels of myriad colors and forms.

30. If you could see me shivering in the dew, you would think,
I am a fledgling amidst the thickets.

31. Fate took both his parents so he is forlorn,
In the belly of dark gloom without guardian or friend.

32. He twists his neck but no one shows him the way,
And does not protect himself from the schemer’s ploy.

33. He is like a slippery ball of dark leather,
Its hidden grooves studded with nails.

34. He remains in anguish expecting,
The reverberations of sound amid the dunes.

35. The clamor of the hunters almost flings,
The moon from its lair amidst the soaring dunes.

36. He cannot escape from his gloom,
As if he is shackled in chains.

37. So he is like me, and I have not wronged him,
By exceeding him in the ardour of sorrow and tribulation.

38. Yearning, remoteness, parting, and vigilance,
O for my cruelty and neglect.

39. I have become unable to wear my cloak,
Though I may have to make the coat of mail my attire.

40. My hand can barely move my pen,
Though it used to obey my creation of prose or verse.

41. If my wood has dried up after its greenery,
Time brings decline and revival.

42. Why should I despair when the days testify,
To the truth of my imprint and neglect?

43. I reviewed the index of my works but my insight,
Did not perceive in it what would equal my deeds.

44. How then can my people deny the merit of my initiative,
When my wisdom among them and the likes of me has spread?

45. I am the son of my words and my pride is in them,
Even if I am magnanimous in lineage and descent.

46. I have intricate verses in poetry,
That shine in the garden of time like moles.

47. The bereaved and grieving forget their anguish through them,
And every critic is guided by its features.

48. So look to my words and you will find my soul depicted,
In its pages, so my words outline my figure.

49. Let not disputes in the world deceive you,
The spring is not like those who go astray.

50. Truly, the son of Adam without his reason is but,
A specter assembled from bones and joints.