1. Look, Abu Qarran, no fault do I find,
The touchstone of men has set it right.

2. To it ears and hearts incline,
Like arrows, each one hitting its mark.

3. Sweetly over it perfumes exhale,
Into it coats and bosoms songs inhale,

4. While the unrefined its defects assail,
The adept will labor it to perfect.

5. From me flows the muddy and troubled wort,
The pipe and the tap are set right.

6. So the bitterness and blame will not cease
Till the feeble cross returns upright,

7. While it remains in the hands of a company of clowns.
For a young man's tribulations are of many kinds,

8. With each new day fresh attacks that blind.
At them the fertile meadow charged full tilt,

9. Seeking my land while passions wander wild.
No kinsman have I there nor a friend tried,

10. Among foes bearing a name abhorred.
The hostile and doubtful watch for them espied,

11. Posting over their rising a guard.
When they appear the heart springs to seize,

12. Talons and fangs down upon them squeeze,
As failed hopes dropped frustrated.

13. My heart pains, with scars from them imbued.
The ground complains of what the pick has hewed.

14. On them my die is cast, with them my reward,
Mine the laments, his the hole accrued.

15. A wondrous affliction in its incapacitation,
At its symptoms the doctor laughs in frustration.

16. Can you feel safe today while wasting away,
Among the vales of fever a stranger stationed?

17. If God's succor and aid do not endless remain,
Despair will triumph and loss be our bane.