1. O poets of this age, lend me your ears
Of pacts and memories and grace sincere

2. My excuse in composing verse, excuse
Grievous, heart sore, secrets did lay bare

3. Verse I compose for self and those
Who see not wronged oppressed made fair

4. And those who walk with me this path
Yearning’s revolt, bewildered snare

5. Within me a beloved so dear
Whose love makes weary, rest I rare

6. Help me, friends, or pardon me
No blame’s the weeping if they weep and tear

7. If I did fill the East with plaint and moan
From the East my troubles and all my care