Sol 6.1

  1. بكيت على شعري الذي ضاع قدره

    بدمع على الخدين يجري كنهرينِ

    I wept over my poetry, whose worth was lost,

    With tears flowing down both cheeks like two rivers.

  2. فلم يجدني نفعاً وضاعت مدامعي

    فوا طول حزني من ضياع نفيسينِ

    But it did me no good, and my tears were wasted.

    So alas, how long my sorrow at the loss of two precious things!