أُنَمْنِمُ بِالأَقْلاَمِ خَطَّاً مُحَبَّرَا

أُنَمْنِمُ بِالأَقْلاَمِ خَطَّاً مُحَبَّرَا

فَيُحْسَبُ فِي القِرْطَاسِ دُرّاً مُفَصَّلاَ

فَيُحْسَبُ فِي القِرْطَاسِ دُرّاً مُفَصَّلاَ

With pens I ornament a richly embellished script,

With pens I trace a line of verse

so on the paper it is taken for pearls neatly arrayed.

That's counted as a string of pearls, precise, dispersed.

وَلَسْتُ بِبَرَّاءٍ لَهَا غَيْرَ عَاجِزٍ

وَلَسْتُ بِبَرَّاءٍ لَهَا غَيْرَ عَاجِزٍ

وَمَا كُلُّ مِنْ بِالسَّيْفِ يَضْرِبُ صَيْقَلاَ

وَمَا كُلُّ مِنْ بِالسَّيْفِ يَضْرِبُ صَيْقَلاَ

Yet I am nothing but inept at sharpening those pens;

I'm not absolved, though powerless,

and not everyone who strikes with a sword is a sword-polisher.

Not everyone who wields a sword can polish or impress.