1. Blame me not, for the wounded is not blamed
When he complains, and when the wounds complain

2. Blame me not, for the outcast is not blamed
The oppressed is not blamed when he cries out

3. Blame me not, why between my ribs
Did it not beat, did the wounds not nurture it

4. And I will not blame he who died in feeling
Rather the blame is upon he who still has soul

5. Blame me not, my face blames my deeds
And my heart above the tragedies lies broken

6. How many faces like yours I see
Arabic, averting all good, turning away

7. It is a world, some of its people died of worries
And many of its inhabitants are at rest

8. I, my master, am frank in my love
And he who keeps promises is frank

9. Some poems numbed us intentionally
Made us think that elegy is praise

10. It opened us to every new opening
Dangling from its eyes are the conquests

11. And swords, the blood of enemies in their sheaths
And steeds, the forearm bound in fervor

12. And it showed us the face of truth as disgrace
So the ugly appeared and it is beautiful

13. Blame me not, my worries, for rhymes
Burned me, and poetry is embers and wind

14. You were vexed, my love, by the truth from my mouth
And the eloquent surely disavows the eloquent

15. And I will not be vexed by blame in my chest
For the lover's chest is spacious