1. My beloved turned away, and my confidant turned away
And barrenness spread in my palms and my pen

2. I ask the night, O my night, about my condition
About my isolation, my wanings, and my boredom

3. Where do I start? My sorrows are unleashed
An ocean of grief from my head to my feet

4. A traveler atop the wave of the letter on paper
I deposited in it the outpouring of my sorrows and the scent of my blood

5. A traveler whose time does not realize my journey
Nor the companion of my path moved by my melody

6. I cry blood when I see al-Qa'qa' returning
Its remnants between the captive and the defeated

7. Its horses above the line of fire galloping
Observing the support coming from nothingness

8. Observing the free Arabs in their blood
Muthanna boils and the thousand of Mu'tasim boil

9. And they did not know that God's rope is severed
And that it fattened itself for the conquest of this polyp

10. I cry blood, O cycle of poetry, when I see
The cradle of good tidings a spring for every oppressed

11. Tribes consumed with the embers of hatred
Fiery-faced from Sidon to the Pyramids

12. Its black limits vanishing under its darkness
The rays of love, kinship and womb relations

13. I cry blood when I see al-Qa'qa' in his hand
A leash with which he is led in the United Nations

14. Bunaya rose up and history slapped me
I wandered between bitter hope and regret

15. I read in his wheaten face an epic
Of anguish, and a volcano of pain

16. Yesterday he measured pride smiling
And today a sullen face not smiling!

17. Bunaya this is the tragedy manifest
So look by your Lord who is my adversary and my judge?

18. The bits of my horses were embedded in their skulls
And my flag was on their shoulders

19. So my first qibla became lowered
When I followed the path of depravity with my feet

20. I bid him farewell as I cried over a time
In which truth became a kind of accusations

21. I cry and know my size, O my tortured one
The worry is bigger than my size and determination

22. But I bear the burdens hoping for reward
For sleep above the cushions is not of my morals