وَحوشِيَ عَتباً أَن يَغُضَّ عَلى قَذىً

وَحوشِيَ عَتباً أَن يَغُضَّ عَلى قَذىً

وَلَكِن عَلى اِستِسلامِ مَولاهُ لِلذُلِّ

وَلَكِن عَلى اِستِسلامِ مَولاهُ لِلذُلِّ

And he is spared reproach for closing his eyes upon a mote,

My wildness offended that it should be angry over hurt,

But not for his master's surrender to humiliation.

But that my Master should submit to degradation.

فَرَأيُكَ في قَتلي بِعَفوِكَ مُنعِماً

فَرَأيُكَ في قَتلي بِعَفوِكَ مُنعِماً

فَإِنَّكَ تُحيي المَكرُماتِ بِذا القَتلِ

فَإِنَّكَ تُحيي المَكرُماتِ بِذا القَتلِ

Then graciously choose to kill me with your pardon,

So your view of slaying me with your pardon is bounteous,

For with this killing you give life to noble deeds.

For you give life to noble deeds by such death.

عَلى أَنَّ عَتباً مِنكَ قَد مَرَّ مُرُّهُ

عَلى أَنَّ عَتباً مِنكَ قَد مَرَّ مُرُّهُ

عَلَيَّ كَما لَو كُنتَ تَضرِبُ بِالنَصلِ

عَلَيَّ كَما لَو كُنتَ تَضرِبُ بِالنَصلِ

Yet the bitterness of a rebuke from you has passed

Yet your displeasure at me has passed away,

Over me as though you were striking with a blade.

As though you were striking with a blunted sword.

وَما في يَدي مِن نَيلِ عَفوِكَ حُجَّةٌ

وَما في يَدي مِن نَيلِ عَفوِكَ حُجَّةٌ

بَلى في يَدي ما في يَدَيكَ مِنَ الفَضلِ

بَلى في يَدي ما في يَدَيكَ مِنَ الفَضلِ

And I have in my hand no plea for obtaining your pardon.

And I have no argument for attaining your pardon,

Yes—in my hand is the generosity that lies in your two hands.

Nay, in my hand is what is in your hand of grace.