1. I now cast the targets of fate
As the young maiden casts stones with her sling

2. At halfway point of a ninety yard range
Like a virgin’s shot with a stone from her sling

3. In an abode remote from kith and kin
Like a camel fold none call a neighbor

4. As if I were ruins whose walls were razed
Or a corpse in the talons of a vulture

5. They attend to their will; I am nothing to them
Save an aged man, feeble, with no power

6. A nap I take not though to rest I’m inclined
Gone my past days, and my lifetime’s prime

7. Though shackled I be, I’m resigned to my plight
Little remains of my trace behind

8. When the years close in upon a century
Life spills my fortunes in bitter brine