1. If time returns me to you an outcast,
It is no wonder the bow regains its eyebrow.

2. It is the quiver we fled from, while new feathers,
Have now returned, and the old feathers gone.

3. May God reward the people of Saman for what they did,
And the lost vengeance still has its seeker.

4. They married me to sorrow after divorce,
A wedding that brings calamities.

5. They watered my crops, so I saw clouds
Strange, when kin had abandoned me.

6. They harvested my crops and drained
Waters that only their hands, not others, drew near.

7. Your hands reap while others plant,
So you are locusts and kings are clouds.

8. If the sultan covets what my poetry earns,
Then the sultan through poetry finds profit.

9. You praised the Buyids, not I,
And I'll praise whoever words make grateful.