1. تَظَلُّ كَفَّيَّ لِحُرفي إِن لَمَستُ بِها

    سَهيكَ طيبٍ كَأُخرى باشَرَت سَهكا

    My palm, through my ill fortune, remains—even if with it I touch

    ground perfume—like another that has touched something foul-smelling.

  2. تَغشى النَوائِبُ حالي وَهِيَ رازِحَةٌ

    كَالشِعرِ يَلقى زِحافاً بَعدَ ما نُهِكا

    Calamities beset my state while it is already weighed down,

    like verse undergoing metrical contraction after being severely curtailed.