1. My Lord, have patience, for I
Am lost in the accidents of fate,

2. Like a drowning man, but still
I cling to my beard.

3. At times I play with my tresses,
Exulting, though worn with toil,

4. No wickedness of fate remains
That a more wicked does not replace.

5. None has covenanted with fate like me,
Save to instantly break the pact.

6. Woe to it! Soon it will be pure;
For my fate is effeminate.

7. And soon I see it diminish
Before the many it has gathered.

8. I strew coarse hair deliberately
Over its tresses and long locks,

9. That I may string verses
Seeking to praise your being,

10. Lovely as pearls, but any
Praise of you is fruitless.

11. You remain for us a chief
To whom we repair and cling.