1. نَطَقَت مُقلَةُ الفَتى المَلهوفِ

    فَتَشَكَّت بِفَيضِ دَمعٍ ذَروفِ

    The eye of the grief-stricken youth spoke,

    voicing its complaint in a flood of streaming tears.

  2. تَرجَمَ الدَمعُ في صَحائِفِ خَدَّي

    هِ سُطوراً مُؤَلَّفاتِ الحُروفِ

    Tears translated, upon the pages of his cheeks,

    lines composed of letters.

  3. فَلَئِن شَطَّتِ الدِيارُ وَغالَ ال

    دَهرُ في آلِفٍ وَفي مَألوفِ

    Though the dwellings have grown distant, and Time has dealt harshly

    with one who holds dear and one held dear,

  4. وَتَبَدَّلتُ بِالبَشاشَةِ حُزناً

    بَعدَ لَهوٍ في مَربَعٍ وَمصَيفِ

    and I have exchanged cheerfulness for sorrow,

    after carefree pleasure in spring pasture and summer retreat,

  5. فَعَزائي بِأَنَّ عِرضي مَصونٌ

    سائِغُ الوِردِ وَالسَماحُ خَليفي

    my consolation is that my honor remains guarded,

    my wellspring easy of access, and generosity stands in my stead;

  6. ثُمَّ عِلمي عَلى حَداثَةِ سِنّي

    بِصُروفِ الدُهورِ وَالتَصريفِ

    and then there is my knowledge, despite my tender years,

    of the vicissitudes of time and all its transformations;

  7. راكِبٌ لِلأُمورِ في حَلبَةِ الأَي

    يامِ لِلمُنجِياتِ أَو لِلحُتوفِ

    I mount affairs in the arena of the days,

    toward deliverance—or toward death;

  8. ذو اِعتِداءٍ عَلى ثَراءِ فَتى الجو

    دِ الشَريفِ الفَعالِ وَاِبنِ الشَريفِ

    one who presses a claim upon the riches of generosity’s champion,

    noble in deed and son of the noble.

  9. لَيتَ شِعري ماذا يُريبُكَ مِنّي

    وَلَقَد فُقتَ فِطنَةَ الفَيلَسوفِ

    Would that I knew what in me arouses your distrust,

    when indeed, in acumen, you have surpassed the philosopher.

  10. إِنتَهِز فُرصَةً تَسُرُّكَ مِنّي

    بِاِصطِناعِ الخَيراتِ وَالمَعروفِ

    Seize your chance with me—it will bring you joy—

    by bestowing good deeds and kindness.

  11. أَنا ذو مَنطِقٍ شَريفٍ لِإِعطا

    ءٍ وَذو مَنطِقٍ لِمَنعٍ عَفيفِ

    I am a man of noble speech when gifts are given,

    and of restrained, chaste speech when they are withheld.

  12. ما أُبالي إِذا عَنَتكَ أُموري

    كَيفَ أَنحَت عَلَيَّ أَيدي الصُروفِ

    If my plight concerns you, I care nothing

    for how the hands of vicissitude hew at me.