1. I blame fate, unmoved by blame,
And seek refuge from misfortunes' aim.

2. Days promise and tempt in vain,
Though I know they promise falsely and cause pain.

3. I served and took as kin some folks,
For aid, but they became like scorpion-stings in cloaks.

4. They call me Ibn Zabeba in peace,
And son of brave knights when swords are unleashed.

5. But for passion I'd not have stooped so low,
Nor would the lion have bowed to jackals in its woe.

6. My people will recall me when the horses neigh
And riders roam with them through the camps mid-day.

7. And if my people forget, swords and spears remind
Them of my deeds when stirring war I did find.

8. Would that fate unite me with loved ones,
As misfortunes it brings ever closer to my arms.

9. Would that your phantom, O Ably, like a shooting star,
Pass by to see me and wet my eyes that softly spar.

10. I'll show patience till betrayal unveils its art,
And till patience overflows between my ribs athwart.

11. Your abode's in heaven - its place is known.
While my reach falls short of stars that have grown.