1. An ailment has wearied the doctor from curing
It will surely bring me to the spring of my demise

2. I was content to become a martyr of affection
Like one who gulps poison in scintillating nectar

3. So why should nights be so shameless
And indulge the soul more than any indulgence

4. It's as if my time has deluded me
Into siding with the Shia against Uthman